Martial Misgivings: The Problem with Systems & Styles

Years ago I came across a quote I really like. It was something along the lines of,  “There are no martial arts styles, only human movement.” Either Bruce Lee or Dan Inosanto said it; I can’t find the original source anywhere online. Maybe I just made it up.

No matter where the quote came from, it reflects my own point of view. I have long been somewhat disenchanted with the idea of martial styles and nomenclature, something I’ve written about previously.

Specific styles of martial arts styles are, by their very nature, limiting. The idea of a “complete” style is fallacious; all of them have their strengths and weaknesses, no matter how seemingly well-rounded they are. A problem arises when those teaching an art refuse to acknowledge the gaps and holes in the curriculum and instead teach questionable techniques that reflect the style more than real fighting.

While this is especially an issue with traditional, closed systems, more modern, open systems are not immune. A perfect example is knife disarms. Both Aikido and Brazilian Jiujitsu have knife disarms. In my experience, none of them work very well against an aggressive, resisting opponent. They sure look nice though, and the Aikido knife disarms look like Aikido and the Brazilian Jiujitsu knife disarms look like Brazilian Jiujitsu. The style — not efficacy —  is dictating the technique. The basic knife disarm I practice and teach doesn’t really look like anything. Actually, it’s rather ugly. But it has been repeatedly pressure-tested and it works.

Another problem with systems is the fact that any martial art is effective against someone practicing the same martial art. This can lead to a false sense of security. If you are totally wedded to a specific style, you decrease the chances of training with someone with a different way of fighting. If you’re strictly a striker but have never gone to the ground, that’s a problem. The same goes for a grappler who’s never had to deal with punches. And note: Having one guy at your Karate dojo pretend to be a boxer so you can learn how to defeat a boxer is not the same as training with someone who actually knows how to box. Incidentally, I consider it imperative for anyone practicing unarmed self-defense to get some direct exposure to both boxing and Brazilian Jiujitsu. Many bad guys are would-be boxers and/or would-be UFC fighters.

Earlier I used the terms “closed” versus “open” styles. What did I mean by that? Closed styles are more or less done changing. They already have set curriculums, and while there may be some variations from school to school, in general there will be more similarities than differences. A Shotokan dojo is a Shotokan dojo no matter where you go. If you take a 5 year break from Aikido and then go back to it, the art probably hasn’t changed at all.

Enson Inoue

Open styles, on the other hand, have curriculums that are always changing. Sure, the basics remain the same, but techniques are regularly being added or dropped based on trial and error. A good example of this is reflected in Enson Inoue choosing to demote himself from Brazilian Jiujitsu black belt to purple belt. (He later reversed his decision.)  Inoue explained that he hadn’t trained exclusively in BJJ for a few years, and “didn’t want to go roll somewhere and be so out of the loop that it would put shame on the people who gave me my black belt.” He was legitimately concerned that the art had moved on without him, which it undoubtedly had. Essentially, if you take a 5 year break from training in an open style, expect that things will have changed when you go back, even if you go to the exact same school.

Closed systems are nice for historic preservation, but not for self-preservation. When it comes to real-world self-defense, techniques must change and adapt based on experience. I’ve come across instructors who teach techniques they acknowledge are, at best, questionable, and at worst don’t work, but they teach them because it’s part of the curriculum. I don’t subscribe to that approach. Anything I teach has been pressure-tested against aggressive, non-compliant training partners. If I don’t know first-hand that something works, I don’t teach it. If I learn a way to refine or improve a technique, I’ll change the way I teach it. To paraphrase retired United States Marine Corps general and former U.S. Secretary of Defense James Mattis, you can’t expect success fighting tomorrow’s conflicts with yesterday’s thinking.

It should be obvious that I have a strong preference for open, evolving systems of martial arts. What arts fall into this category? In general, combat sports such as Brazilian Jiujitsu, Muay Thai, Sambo, Krav Maga, and of course Mixed Martial Arts tend to be open systems. Filipino arts such as Kali usually are, but not always. Jeet Kune Do should be the most open system in the world, but alas, that often isn’t the case. Too many JKD schools insist on simply copying what Bruce Lee did, which totally goes against his philosophy. Lee wrote, “I hope to free my followers from clinging to styles, patterns, or molds. Remember that Jeet Kune Do is merely a name used, a mirror in which to see ‘ourselves.’”

Speaking of Bruce Lee, I find it interesting that there are still some Wing Chun practitioners who resent the fact that Lee moved on from the art before he finished learning the complete system. That sort of sentiment is echoed in a rather arrogant, reactionary book by Forrest E. Morgan called Living the Martial Way: A Manual for the Way a Modern Warrior Should Think. Morgan, who for some reason believes he can tell his readers how they should think, argues that a student shouldn’t leave their current martial art to pursue a new one until they’ve obtained black belt level.

Walk on....

All of this is nonsense. If Lee felt he had gotten all he needed out of Wing Chun, why shouldn’t he move on? Similarly, why should anyone waste time with any art that they feel isn’t worthwhile? In Brazilian Jiujitsu, you will generally learn the bulk of techniques relevant to real-world self-defense by the time you reach the blue belt level. After that, you’ll mostly be refining your skills and focussing more on advanced techniques for competition. In fact, and I could be wrong, but I think the Gracie Combatives BJJ curriculum only goes up to blue belt. I’m not saying people should stop training in Brazilian Jiujitsu after achieving blue belt status, and I’m not saying they should keep training either. I’m simply observing that someone could get quite a bit of practical knowledge from Brazilian Jiujitsu without earning a high rank.

Black belt?

(Let me note in passing that I’m ambivalent about ranks and belts. Sure, it can sometimes be a useful way to track progress, but people put way too much emphasis on this sort of thing, such as the aforementioned Forrest E. Morgan and his “you can’t quit until you’re a black belt” dogma. Earning a black belt sometimes means a lot, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s not like you’re a magic-user in Dungeons & Dragons and go up a level and can now cast new spells.)

Reading this, one may construe that I am essentially in favor of training in mostly open systems, changing arts when appropriate, not being a slave to tradition, and altering techniques based on information gained from pressure testing. That’s exactly it. I am totally in favor of Bruce Lee’s mantra  “Absorb what is useful, discard what is useless and add what is specifically your own.” 

It’s important to note that I am not uniformly opposed to the idea of martial arts systems. Having a system with a name and general curriculum is a quick, convenient way to convey some basic information to prospective students. If it were up to me, I’d describe my own style as bladed and impact hand-held weapons techniques from the Philippines; striking techniques based on boxing, Savate, and Muay Thai; stand-up grappling using Silat, Brazilian Jiujitsu, and Greco-Roman wrestling; and ground fighting based on Brazilian Jiujitsu. Alas, all of that won’t fit on a business card, so I just say Kali, Jeet Kune Do, and Brazilian Jiujitsu.

Friedrich Nietzsche

I think a good example of the right approach to martial arts styles can be to look at genres in films, fiction, and music. Both Public Enemy’s Apocalypse 91… The Enemy Strikes Black and A Tribe Called Quest’s The Low End Theory came out in 1990. Both are examples of East Coast hip-hop. Yet while the two albums do share some characteristics, both is very much its own thing with its own sound.

I’ll close with a quote from one of my favorite philosophers, whose writing has had a profound influence on me and helped me to overcome my nihilistic tendencies, Friedrich Nietzsche. In The Twilight of the Idols he wrote, “I mistrust all systematizers and avoid them. The will to a system is a lack of integrity.” 

Nietzsche wasn’t writing about martial arts, but he sure could have been.

Martial Misgivings: Faith-based Martial Arts

With this post I kick off a new series, Martial Misgivings, in which I'll look at aspects of the martial arts world that I have issues with. 

For this inaugural post, I want to take a look at what I call faith-based martial arts. By faith-based, I don't mean styles or schools tied to a specific religion, such as the "Christian Cajun Karate" dojo that used to operate out of my home town. Not that I don't have problems with that; I do. That just isn't what I'm referring to when I say faith-based martial arts.

What I am referring to are individuals whose belief in the validity of the techniques they are taught stems solely from faith as opposed to actual knowledge. 

An example: At the school I often train at, we once had a visiting student who had been practicing some form of Kung Fu for more than 10 years. Let's call him Grasshopper. He readily admitted that he had never sparred or tested any of the techniques he'd practiced against a noncompliant, resisting opponent. Before class started, I asked, in a polite way, if he ever questioned the efficacy of his art. Grasshopper admitted to having occasional flashes of doubt, but said in the end he had faith in his techniques because "Sifu says it works." He was sure he would do well in our class.

Sifu says....

Well, once class stared, I was paired with Grasshopper. He couldn't even deal with a very slow, telegraphed left jab that he knew was coming, much less a combination, and was totally lost in the clinch and on the ground. His sense of distancing was totally off when hitting focus mitts.

After class was over, we talked a bit more. Grasshopper said he felt a bit humbled, and thought he would have done better. His plan was to go back to his sifu and work even harder at getting better at the same techniques that hadn't worked in live training. This strikes me as an example of the sunk-cost fallacy. Grasshopper had already invested a decade of his life and who knows how much money learning ineffective techniques and no doubt uses that history to justify further investment of his time and money, despite new evidence — such as repeatedly getting hit in the head — suggesting that the future cost of continuing training outweighs the expected benefit.

(By the way, if you've trained for 10 years and are incapable of defending against even basic attacks, you aren't practicing a fighting art. You're practicing a dance.)

A few thoughts.... For one, having faith in a technique because "Sifu says it works" is, in my opinion, a straight-up cult-like way of thinking that has nothing to do with reason or logic. I'll post more on the cultish nature of some martial arts schools in the future, but suffice to say it's something I have no patience or tolerance for. I don't care how many "Supreme Mega Grandmaster Pompatus of Kung-Fu" made-up titles your instructor has in front of their name, that isn't an excuse to turn off your brain. Think for yourself. As Mikhail Bakunin wrote in his classic essay What is Authority?

"When it is a question of boots, I refer the matter to the authority of the cobbler; when it is a question of houses, canals, or railroads, I consult that of the architect or engineer. For each special area of knowledge I speak to the appropriate expert. But I allow neither the cobbler nor the architect nor the scientist to impose upon me. I listen to them freely and with all the respect merited by their intelligence, their character, their knowledge, reserving always my incontestable right of criticism and verification. I do not content myself with consulting a single specific authority, but consult several. I compare their opinions and choose that which seems to me most accurate."

This way of thinking should absolutely apply to martial arts, especially if your principal goal is to learn practical techniques to defend yourself and others.

Real punches, real training.

So, how do you know if a technique works? You think like a scientist and you test it under pressure against a resisting opponent. Trav at Fight Smart puts it this way: Try your techniques on someone who wants to prove you wrong. I like that, and fully agree.

How do you pressure test a technique? The most obvious answer is sparring. Real sparring. Not Aikido randori or Tai Chi sticky hands. 

Some instructors I admire have issues with sparring. While I don't totally agree with their arguments (I'm definitely in the pro-sparring camp), I try to remain openminded and do not totally dismiss their points of view. However, sparring isn't the only way to pressure test techniques, nor should it be the only method used if you are serious about training. Another, possibly equally important tactic is to test techniques against a partner offering ever-escalating levels of resistance. 

Why even block that?

For example, if you're learning to parry a jab, I'll start off throwing fairly easy, somewhat slow open-hand jabs to your forehead. Note that I'll actually try to make contact with your head, and I won't leave my arm dangling out there either. That kind of training accomplishes nothing except to screw up a student's sense of distancing, yet you see it all the time. As you get better, I'll throw faster and harder. Then we'll put on helmets and gloves and I'll try to punch you in the face. Eventually I'll be throwing punches at about 70-80 percent power and speed.

Novelist and martial artist Barry Eisler did an excellent job summing up the need for this sort of live training:

"If you’re trying to learn how to weave off the line of an incoming punch, it helps if the punch is thrown by someone who’s really trying to knock your head off. If you’re trying to learn how to hit someone with a hip throw, it helps to learn how to do it against an opponent who’s trying his hardest to stop you. Yes, I know neither of these examples is the same as the 'real thing.' Training is an approximation. The closer the approximation, though, the better the training."

Some people will read all this and say, "But won't I get hurt?" Well, yes, sometimes. One of my martial arts mottoes is "If you always get hurt, you're training too hard. If you never get hurt, you're not training hard enough." Note by "hurt" I don't mean "injured." You shouldn't be breaking your bones (or your partner's!) or anything like that. On the other hand, expect  a few bruises, cuts, the occasional hyperextended joint, and other dings to your chassis. Yes, it will be tough, and you'll have to get used to a bit of pain, but as Alexander Suvorov, the last Generalissimo of the Russian Empire, famously said, "Train hard, fight easy."

One of the most common arguments I hear against pressure testing is the "our techniques are too deadly" canard. Sure they are. Where is the evidence? Where are the reputable reports of someone being killed by by your sifu's patented Five Fingers of Death blow? Do you have a study from a reputable, peer-reviewed medical journal explaining how the Five Fingers of Death blow works? And are your saying you are incapable of defending yourself without killing someone? That strikes me as a pretty limited martial art. 

I've also seen some rather stupid arguments against pressure testing. A few years ago, I came across a YouTube video making similar arguments to the ones I'm making here. One snarky commenter thought he was being clever in arguing that not all self-defense techniques need to be pressure tested. He wrote something along the lines of, "I know pushing someone off a tall building will kill them without pressure testing it." For one, pushing a non-resisting, non-threatening person off a building isn't self-defense or martial arts. It's murder. As for pushing a resisting, threatening person off a building, you actually can pressure test that if for some reason you thought you should. Put a couple of judo mats on the ground, imagine the mats are a rooftop, and try to push or throw your partner off. It might not prove as easy as the commenter thought. 

If you pressure test all your techniques against a resisting opponent, you won't have to rely on faith. You can rely on knowledge. Boxers know jab-cross-hook combo works because they've done it countless times and had it done to them countless times. BJJ practitioners know how to apply a rear-naked choke and they know how to escape a rear-naked choke. It isn't a matter of faith or belief. It's a matter of knowing based on evidence derived from constant testing. 

Pressure testing a choke.

Martial arts schools aren't churches, and self-defense isn't a religion. Insist on facts, not faith.

(Standard Martial Misgivings disclaimer: I practice martial arts first and foremost to learn and hone skills I can use to protect myself and others. It is from this perspective that I'm writing. Other people practice martial arts for different reasons, such as sport, self-improvement, or mastering an esoteric tradition. There's nothing wrong with that, and I do not criticize those motivations. They just aren't mine. Please keep that in mind when reading my posts.)

Remembering Martial Artist Manny J. Valladares

My friend, fellow martial artist, and longtime training partner Manny J. Valladares died recently. He had been fighting a long, tough battle with cancer, but eventually succumbed to COVID-19.

Manny, Karate Kid.

Manny had been practicing martial arts for about as long as I've been alive. He started practicing Goju-Ryu Karate in Spanish Harlem in the early '70s, eventually earning a 5th degree black belt. From there Manny moved on to Judo, earning a 3rd degree black belt. Manny's stories of training in those rough-and-tumble early days always fascinated me, and clearly influenced his development as a martial artist. He talked about how his Karate dojo would practice all the standard kata and drills, but at the end of the class would put on gloves and start sparring. If it was too hot, they would train on the rooftop. Manny said he quickly learned what parts of Goju-Ryu were effective and which parts were not, and how to differentiate between martial arts practice and actual streetfigthing. This, to me, this is exactly the right mindset for anyone  serious about the self-defense aspect of martial arts, and Manny kept this attitude  throughout his lifelong training.

In fact, it was probably this mindset that led me to meet Manny. I met him when he started training in Kali, Jeet Kune Do, and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu under Burton Richardson in Honolulu. Remember that Manny was already a more than accomplished martial artist, and was no longer a young man. Yet he dove right in, eager to learn new things and hone his formidable skills. And Manny trained hard, often harder than those decades younger than him. More than one eager young buck under-estimated the middle-aged Puerto Rican guy with a bit of a belly and quickly found themselves outclassed.

Manny scores a hit with a rattan stick.

I loved training with Manny. It wasn't just because he was a cool guy with an infectious laugh, which he was. It was also because he was skilled enough and mature enough that we could train and spar really hard without either of us worrying about injuring the other. For example, Manny was one of the very few people I felt comfortable stick sparring with real rattan sticks with. Yeah, we would get a bit bruised and beat up (well, mostly I got bruised and beat up), but we both accepted that as part of pushing yourself, facing your fears, and getting better. 

Sometimes when doing drills in which one person attacks and the other defends, Manny and I would get into trouble because we each kept attacking. We both definitely had an aggressive, not passive fighting style. Yet Manny also excelled at some of the more artistic, intricate aspects of martial arts, such as the dancelike, Kali drills known as Sinawali. We could get pretty fancy going through the partner Sinawali patterns, banging our sticks together and flowing with fluidity. 

When it came to Manny's fighting style, aspects of his Karate training definitely came through. If we were kickboxing, he would stay fairly stationary, not moving his feet very much. You would think you could step in, throw a punch to his face, and step out again. That was often not the case. Manny was incredibly skilled at distancing and moving his head just enough to avoid your punch, and fast enough with his hands to follow up with vicious punches of his own before you've had a chance to retreat. Manny had some of the fastest hands I've ever encountered. I can't help but think of the Wu-Tang Clan lyric, "And I'll be damned if I let any man come to my center, you enter the winter," because Manny kept his centerline so well-protected and those who tried to find a way in suffered the consequences. For a good example of his hand speed and coordination, check out this video of Manny and I practicing the Kali knife drill known as sumbrada:

This didn't just apply to kickboxing. Our main targets in knife and stick sparring are the hands, legs, and head. I hardly ever was able to hit Manny's head. In fact, one day after Manny and I had gone a few rounds with the sticks, a classmate asked me, "Why don't you ever go for Manny's head?" I replied, "You'll see after you two do a round." Sure enough, our fellow classmate did a couple of stick rounds with Manny and every attempt to hit Manny's head went badly.

Ow, my arm!

With his Judo background, it probably goes without saying that Manny easily took to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I had the honor of being his sparring partner when he took his blue belt test, and Manny definitely tossed me around a bit. On his own he worked on blending BJJ with Judo, creating a very potent personal fighting style. You can watch highlights of Manny's blue belt test here.

Despite the fact that Manny was big and strong and capable of being a very aggressive (in a good way!) sparring partner, he could still train and spar with those who were far smaller, weaker, and inexperienced without letting ego get in the way. Manny wanted to learn, and he wanted his partners to learn, too. If you trained with Manny, you were sure to come out of the experience with more skill and knowledge. Manny eventually earned his instructor certifications in Kali and Jeet Kune Do, adding to his already impressive martial arts resume.

Manny at his home gym.

A few years ago, Manny and his family left Hawaii and moved to Las Vegas, where he started his own JKD Unlimited school and began sharing his expertise with a new batch of students. He never stopped training, never stopped learning, and never stopped teaching. We kept in touch via social media, and I was always happy to see the photos he shared of himself and his students hard at work perfecting their skills.

In this post, I've mostly talked about Manny J. Valladares as a martial artist, because that's how I primarily knew him. He was also a husband, father, grandfather, and entrepreneur, as well as a former Marine and sheriff's deputy. I'll always remember him as one of the best training partners I've ever had and as a man I'm honored to have been able to call "friend."

Rest in peace, Manny....

Domestic Defense: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for Women at Home

Some self-defense food for thought.

And the point about "statistically the most dangerous place for a woman is in her own home"? Sadly true. According to the Centers for Disease Control, 55 percent of murders of American women involve domestic violence. In 93 percent of those cases, victims were killed by current or former intimate partners: boyfriends, husbands, of lovers.

Statistics about rape and domestic violence are harder to come by, but at least one study found that 76 percent of women who reported they had been raped and/or physically assaulted since age 18 said that a current or former husband, cohabiting partner, or date committed the assault.

View this post on Instagram

⚠️6 Bedroom Techniques EVERY Woman Should Know! Statistically, the most dangerous place for a woman is in her own home, so @evetorresgracie had the brilliant idea of doing a tutorial of the most effective techniques for use on a bed! Free Women’s Self-defense Seminars Worldwide on January 5th. Link in bio to register! FUN FACT: Eve actually choked me unconscious one time while filming this. Guess which technique did it??? #bjj #jiujitsu #selfdefense #technique @itsmephilliplee 🎥 🙏🏼 @womenempoweredgjj

A post shared by renergracie (@renergracie) on Dec 5, 2018 at 3:34pm PST

Practice the Martial Art You Like

Lou Schuler

Regarding exercise, certified strength and conditioning specialist Lou Schuler wrote in his book The New Rules of Lifting that what matters most is for people to

1. Do something
2. Do something they like
3. The rest is just details

I agree, and have the same philosophy when it comes to martial arts. You are more likely to practice and therefore get better at an art that comes naturally to and that you really like than an art you don’t like as much or aren’t as naturally inclined towards. (This is a big part of why I’m vastly better at Kali than BJJ.) 

For example, let’s assume you want to take up a striking art. You take a few classes in both

Muay Thai and Taekwondo. For whatever reason, you find you enjoy Taekwondo and don’t care for Muay Thai. Maybe it’s the art itself, maybe it’s the instructor, maybe it’s the vibe of the school. However, your UFC-addled buddy tells you should stick with Muay Thai because it’s been “proven in the ring” and is more useful for self-defense. Leaving aside whether or not that is true, signing up for Muay Thai classes won’t do you any good if you skip practice because you don’t like it. Being a consistent student of Taekwondo is better than being an inconsistent student of Muay Thai.

Don't get me wrong... It's good to challenge yourself and try things (including martial arts) that are outside of your comfort zone. I'm thankful for the time I spent earning my BJJ purple belt. But it's important to have a base core to work off of. It serves as your foundation. In my case, that foundation is built on Filipino martial arts. I came to that foundation by going through a period of trying different  martial styles and seeing what clicked. Kali is, simply put, the martial art I enjoy practicing the most.

Film: Quick Thoughts About Black Panther

I finally saw Black Panther, weeks after seemingly every other human on the planet watched it. This late in the game, an in-depth movie review seems rather superfluous, though I will say I thoroughly enjoyed it. Instead, this post will focus on some quick thoughts and general observations about the film.

One of the reasons I was slow to see Black Panther is because I’m rather ambivalent about superhero cinema and the Marvel Cinematic Universe in particular (I think I may be one of the few people who strongly disliked Iron Man). Yet in many ways Black Panther isn’t really a superhero movie at all. It struck me as more of a science fiction/fantasy hybrid with an occasional detour into James Bond territory. (I’d love to see director Ryan Coogler tackle a Bond flick, or at the very least a Mission: Impossible.) If anything, the blend of technology, hand-to-hand fighting, mysticism, and monarchy reminded me somewhat of Frank Herbert’s masterpiece Dune, with vibranium as something of a stand-in for spice. Considering I love this sort of thing—I even liked The Chronicles of Riddick—it is no surprise I much prefer Black Panther over other superhero-based movies.

Not surprisingly, I paid quite a bit of attention to the fight scenes and weaponry. To prepare for his role as T’Challa, Chadwick Boseman worked extensively with martial artist Marrese Crump. According to Crump, T’Challa’s fighting style is a primarily a blend of Kali, Muay Thai, and Capoeira. If you know what you’re looking for, you can clearly see all these elements in the film. There’s also some prominent uses of Jujitsu.

In all due respect to the king of Wakanda, my favorite fight moves were displayed by T’Challa’s faithful spy Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o). During a scene set in a Korean casino, she pulls off a cool Kotegaeshi (I think that’s the proper name), a wrist throw from traditional Japanese Jujitsu. Later, she performs an excellent snake disarm against Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan). As a Kali practitioner, I was especially excited to see the snake disarm.

(You can see the snake disarm about 11 seconds in here. The wrist lock is about 40 seconds in here.)

The film also had some nods to Africa’s  traditional weaponry. For example, Killmonger channels the spirit of famous African monarch Shaka Zulu when he breaks the shaft of his longish spear, turning it into a Zulu iklwa. M'Baku (Winston Duke), leader of the Jabari tribe, carries a staff resembling an elongated version of a Zulu fighting stick.

I do wish the film contained more indigenous African martial arts, such as Senagese grappling (did you know wrestling is the No. 1 sport in Senegal?) or Zulu stick fighting. Thanks to my teacher Burton Richardson, I’ve dabbled a bit in Zulu stick work, and find it fun and fascinating. While there is still a tendency to immediately think of East Asia whenever martial arts are mentioned, Africa has a long, rich martial tradition that is well-worth exploring onscreen.

However, that’s a minor quibble. As great as the fight sequences were, what really made Black Panther work were the characters and their struggles. Despite the excellent special effects, design, and action scenes, the film was fundamentally about people, which is part of the reason audiences are responding to it with such passion. Yes, Black Panther is a popcorn movie, but it’s a popcorn movie with heart.

Five Ways to Improve Hand Speed

Many years ago, I was at a bar and witnessed an interesting altercation. A very large, tall man was harassing a much smaller man, saying the standard “Hey, whatchoo looking’ at?” dialogue. The big guy was about a foot taller and was least 100 pounds heavier than his would-be victim. The small guy kept his hands up in a placating but slyly defensive position while trying to extricate himself from the situation. The big guy seemed to be backing down, but suddenly pulled back his right arm as if to throw a haymaker. The small guy responded with an incredibly fast jab-cross-hook combination that knocked the big guy out cold. He then promptly left the premises.

A key lesson from this little story is the importance of hand speed. It’s a lesson I’ve seen time and time again in sparring. I have encountered quite a few strong, muscular guys with really slow hands. It’s actually rather amusing when they spar with seemingly out-of-shape partners who happen to have really good hand speed. Guess who tends to get more strikes in?

In a self-defense situation, hand speed could mean the difference between life or death, especially if a weapon is involved. Fortunately, there are ways to improve hand speed. These five have worked for me…

Q&A About FMA

I was recently interviewed by writer Caitlin Basilio for an article about Filipino Martial Arts that appeared in a local newspaper. (You can see the article here.) As is often the case, only a small portion of the interview was included in the finished article. For those who might be interested, the text of the full interview is below. Enjoy!

What are the philosophies behind Filipino Martial Arts?

FMA is all about practicality and flexibility. Methods and techniques are not written in stone. It’s very open ended. You personalize the art and do what works to defend yourself. Adaptability is key. A big part of FMA philosophy is learning to see things as potential weapons. For example, people wonder why bother learning to fight with sticks. Look around you; the world is filled with sticks and stick-like items: car antennas, longneck bottles, rolled-up newspapers, etc.

It’s important to remember that FMA has its roots in warfare. The Philippines consists of over 7,000 islands with countless tribal and ethnic groups who were often in conflict with each other. If the village a few miles away periodically sends war parties to raid your village, you develop some effective, easy-to-learn combat techniques.

When did you begin practicing? What drew you to it and what keeps you interested? 

Ii started training with Burton Richardson about 15 years ago. Even before taking up FMA, I was interested in the art based on what I’d read. The integration of both weapon-based and empty-hand techniques fascinated me. And I’ve always been interested in hand-to-hand armed combat. It goes way back. My father was a fencer, and his dad was a U.S. Marine Corps saber champion who learned machete techniques from Filipino guerrillas while island-hopping across the Pacific during World War II. I was playing around with real fencing foils and quarterstaves from when I was a kid. 

Me! In a Newspaper! Talking About Filipino Martial Arts!

Yours truly was interviewed for an article about Filipino Martial Arts that appeared in Marine Star, a local newspaper. The PDF is available here. Enjoy!

Samurai Story Time with Lt. Martin Castillo

I have quite a bit of fondness for Miami Vice, both the television show and the underrated big screen version. One of my favorite episodes of the original series is "Bushido," which for a change focused not on main characters Crockett and Tubbs (Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas) but on Lt. Martin Castillo (expertly played by Edward James Olmos), their mysterious, laconic boss. Despite being a man of few words, Castillo takes time to relate the following story to a young boy in his care:

"There's a special story I'd like you to know. The story about the samurai, Toshin. Toshin was the greatest swordsman of his clan. And all the other samurai revered him very much. And the shogun became jealous. The shogun ordered Toshin to murder all the people of a little fishing village as a test of his loyalty. Toshin refused, of course, to do something so wrong. It would have destroyed his honor.

He became an outcast to his clan, which turned against him and he lived with the wild animals in the mountains with his family. The clan sent assassins to try to kill them all but none of them ever came back. Toshin knew that one day they would kill him and his family. That not even he could win all the time. That his time would come.

Finally, the clan sent his best friend. A man closer than a brother to him. It was this man's duty to obey the clan. Toshin came down off the mountains onto the beach to meet his old friend. They faced each other with drawn swords. They loved each other very much. As they both struck with their swords Toshin, the master, was a little quicker but he only touched his friend's neck. Touching it but not cutting it. His friend could not stop in time. He struck Toshin once, killing him. Toshin died in honor. It is the way of the bushido, the way of the warrior. Toshin knew that his family would now be safe. But his friend's heart was broken."

(Note: As far as I can tell, this story comes not from old Japan, but from the Miami Vice scriptwriters. It's pretty cool anyway. And "toshin" refers to a Japanese sword's blade without any mounting. 

Respect, Open-Mindedness, and Martial Arts Dilettantism

In many ways, this is a great time to be a student of the martial arts. Thanks to Bruce Lee, the UFC, and the tough guys in the bad parts of Honolulu who melded several traditional styles into Kajukenbo, the idea of crosstraining and experimenting with different arts is usually acceptable if not encouraged. This more tolerant approach to martial dilettantism allows individuals to become more well-rounded as they explore the rich world of the fighting arts.

Of course, there can be problems as well. Some students can become plagued with a sort of martial attention deficit disorder, flitting from one art to another without really taking the time to learn anything.

Then there is the issue of respect. A little knowledge—or even a lot—can be a dangerous thing, and can lead to arrogance and closed-mindedness.

Several years ago, there was a young, douchey dude visiting Hawaii who decided to try out one of Burton Richardson's Kali classes.  Before class, I heard him talking to his girlfriend, telling her he had never practiced Kali before but he had participated in some amateur cage fights, so stickfighting should be "no problem."

Watch your head!

That bothered me. Douchey Dude's comments were arrogant and disrespectful to Burton, everyone in class, and the Filipino martial arts in general. I looked forward to sparring with him.

The end of class came and we all put on our helmets and gloves and took out the soft sticks. I don't make it a habit of going hard when sparring with newbies. With Douchey Dude, I made an exception. For better or for worse, I wanted to teach him a lesson regarding the reality of stickfighting. I sought him out as a sparring partner, and made sure to hit him on the head really hard over and over and over again. As someone said to me afterwards, "You lit him up!"

Afterwards, Douchey Dude came over to me. "Man, you kicked my ass!," he said. "You just kept hitting me on the head!" I asked what he thought of Kali. He replied that it was way harder than he expected. We shook hands and parted on good terms.