Actually, it was a relatively informal training environment.  We worked hard, but he was always smiling, and was very approachable.  I think he understood that he was teaching mostly Americans and that Americans aren’t the same kind of people as Japanese.  We’re more open about how we feel about things and say what we think.  We have little tolerance for B.S., but are willing to learn new things.  Americans generally don’t have the discipline or patience to learn like the Japanese do.  For example, if you were thinking about join his Kendo class, he’d drag you onto the floor, put a shinai (bamboo sword) in your hand and later put you in a bogu (kendo armor) and let you get a real taste for what you were in for.

In the long run, your kendo might be better if you had to practice cuts and footwork for months before you ever got to put on a bugo and do the kendo equivalent of randori.  But, he knew that not many people would stick around long enough to get to that point.  Judo is a little bit different in that if you don’t know how to fall, then randori, even with a great partner, can be dangerous.  Anyway, stick with me for the kendo argument.

I used to practice with the Cornell Kendo Club.  Fifteen years ago, there were a bunch of 3rd and 4th Dan Kendo players (I’m only a 2nd Dan) and they were very good, very nice, fun to work with, shared their techniques, and ran a traditional class in an informal way.  Then, things changed.  They became much more formal.  You had to put in a semester of cutting and footwork practice to earn your way into a bogu.  It became much more strict, but I couldn’t see a very good reason for it other than it was being run by someone who came from a strict NYC kendo dojo and that’s what he knew.  The funny thing is: he was much more formal than any of the higher ranking kendoka (and I actually outranked him).  Eventually, I believe he mellowed a bit.  I knew several people like me who left the club.  I haven’t been back in years and sometimes I miss it.

Now, for judo.  Cornell Judo is set up like an American dojo.  Yes, I want people to learn the Japanese names of techniques.  Yes, I’d like you to learn some of the traditions, like bowing, in case you visit a more traditional dojo.  However, I want our dojo to feel like a fun place to be.  I want you there as often as you can be.  I want you to participate in social activities outside the dojo.  Unfortunately, in a less formal environment, I think we tend to come to work out and then leave – there’s less of an ownership in the dojo and we get the feeling it will always just be there.  Somewhere in the middle, there’s a compromise.

Your at-home exercise is to think about what kind of dojo you want Cornell Judo to be.  How will you participate in making it that way?  What can you contribute?

The first job everyone has in the dojo is to show up.  Sickness, injury, work hours, etc. get in the way.  Not everyone can make it every night.  For some folks, family and personal issues make it difficult to attend practice.  For some folks, however, it’s just that they need a push.  “I’m really tired”, “I just don’t feel like it”, “I have so much to do”, or “I won’t be able to go on Wednesday night, so I’ll just wait until next week.”  Any of these sound familiar?  Sure, I’ve used them myself.  Does that mean that you have to show up for class?  No, it’s just that you should recognize that sometimes we just look for excuses for our laziness.  Only you can decide whether it’s a legitimate reason to skip class or not.  Only you can decide how judo fits into your life and when.

Some jobs are yours when you walk in the door.  I have several in the dojo.  My job is to make you work on your judo – give you the tools and instruction to apply those tools.  My job is get you to do your best.  If I’m working with you, my job is to work with you at the level you need.  I also owe it to myself to work on my own judo.  It’s the only way to make sure I can teach you the best way to do things.  These change periodically.  I don’t do some techniques the same way I did years ago.  I don’t teach them the same either.  I learn from what my students do and what my colleagues do (Bruce, Mai, MP, Jimmy, Dan, etc.).  Sometimes, these things might seem at odds.  For example, I might try out things on lower ranked people that surprise them.  Read on.

Your job once you arrive is to do your best to learn what’s being taught.  Improve your judo.  Help your partners.  Accept that judo has it’s ups and downs (pun and double meaning intended).  Accept that everything you do in the dojo has some instructional value.  Getting your butt kicked in randori?  Yes, it’s part of the learning process.  I still get mine handed to me by some folks on a regular basis.  It’s my incentive to work harder and come up with solutions.  If this is happening to you and it concerns you, then please come talk to me.  For that matter, if anything happens in the dojo that concerns you, please come talk to me.  Give your instructors feedback on what you like and what you don’t (it might make a difference in what we do, it might not).  Some feedback I get is based on what I see you doing.  I watch to see what we need to work on.

Our job is keep Cornell Judo alive.  To make it a welcoming environment for new people who come along.  To embody the spirit of mutual welfare and benefit in all the forms it can take.

I thought about this for a while and realized that every sport has its own scoring system that needs to be learned. In wrestling, you get 2 points for a takedown, 2 for a reversal, 1 for an escape, 2 or 3 back points when close to a pin. You can win outright for a pin. There are some other rules, but for the most part, you can see the score on a board and watch for a couple of minutes and get it. Basketball is even simpler: 1 for a free throw, 2 for field goal (a normal shot), 3 for a shot from behind the three point line.

Now, we get to judo. You need ippon (one point) to win. You can get ippon for a good throw, a submission, or a 25 second hold. You can get waza ari (half point) for a pretty good throw or a 20 second hold. You get yuko (quarter point) or koka (eighth point) for minor throws or shorter holds, but they don’t add up to anything. Penalties do add up, however, and for every penalty you get, your opponent gets a corresponding increase in score starting from koka, until ippon (unless you only need another waza ari. It’s bad enough that some of the scores don’t add up, but the foreign names make it more baffling. And the scoring up to one point? Well, a bit odd, really.

So, what would a new scoring system look like? Well, how about a match up to 20 points. A good throw or 25 second hold is worth 20 points (the old ippon). A not quite as good throw or 20 second hold is worth 10 points (the old waza ari) – and two of them would get you to 20 points. Minor scores of 2 (the old yuko) and 1 (the old koka) would add up, but be difficult to equal the other scores. In other words, it’s still worth playing ippon judo. Minor penalties (the old shido) would be worth 5 points to your opponent (this way, four of them and you lose, just like now).

While the subtleties of what kind of throw is worth 1, 2, 10 or 20 points would still be a bit harder to learn, the scoring system would be much easier to explain. Could it be made even simpler? I’m sure it could. The IJF is currently considering removing the score of koka and changing the hold-down times to a maximum of 20 seconds for the current ippon.

Would a new scoring system help popularize judo, especially in the U.S. I don’t see how it could possibly hurt. There’s a lot of work to do, for sure, but maybe when someone does see judo and you try to explain the scoring, at least it would be comprehensible.

George Harris – 9th Dan and member of the 1964 Olympic team

Jim Bregmen – 8th Dan and Bronze Medalist in the 1964 Olympics and 1965 World Championships

Nori Kudo – 8th Dan and former Tokyo Police Instructor

Nagayasu Ogasawara – 8th Dan and coach of World Silver Medalist Liliko Ogasawara

Sid Kelly – 8th Dan and captain of the British National Team

Pat Burris – this year’s guest instructor, 7th Dan and 1972 and 1976 Olympic Team member.

Something that has struck me, and that I very much appreciate, about the Cornell Judo club is the sense of welcoming community. We meet for only three to five hours a week, with occasional e-mail contacts and sporadic tournament road trips. Yet there is a strong sense of concern and community for our fellow judoka.

I think the community really became apparent to me after the Empire Games I was disqualified from. I let someone use my pass to get in for free, he got caught, and I was disqualified from the tournament. I felt an incredible amount of shame for the stupidness of my actions. In terms of the tournament, I’d wasted all the time and effort we put in training by breaking a rule to save a few bucks. I don’t think that training in judo is ever wasted, but in terms of getting ready for the tournament I had wasted my time and the time of others. I deeply regret my actions.

After the tournament, I felt like I needed some time away. I literally did not want to show my face at judo. Competing and losing every match would have been fine, but getting thrown out was embarrassing. About a month later, after I’d thought about it several times and worked through things in my head, I came back to the dojo to start back up. Everyone was happy to have me back. There was no shunning or blaming. My skills had gotten a little rusty, but there was no having to work my way back into the fellowship of the club. Folks were glad to have me back on the mat. Folks agreed that my actions were not intelligent, or the best course of action; but they didn’t hold that against me as a permanent smear. It was more important I was back to play judo. That was when I really started to see the club as a community.

I’ve tried to put that feeling of welcoming back into my interactions with the club. When a judoka comes back after being away for a while, I want my “hey, where you been?” to convey “we’ve missed you and we’re glad you’re back” and not “you better have a good excuse for your absence.” Folk’s lives get complicated, priorities rise and fall. I’ve decided that judo needs to be a priority in my life for health and sanity. I want other folks to feel like they’ll be welcome when they come back, not worried about hazing or grief for being away. I may not always like playing with every judoka that comes on the mat, but if the club were only composed of my favorite judoka, there wouldn’t be enough people to give the club the energy to keep going. Despite the one-on-one nature of a judo match, and the heart of one’s judo being at one’s own core; the pursuit of better judo requires a group of people. So I have striven to make new members feel welcome, and let leaving members know they will be missed. I think that current members seeing the send off leaving members receive get the message that we appreciate all our fellow judoka.

I’ve noticed over the years that when folks come back to Ithaca, they often make a point of tracking down the judo club, even if most of the students they personally knew have moved on. I think they are warmed by the feeling that even if the faces have changed, the community they remember continues. That’s a sign of a healthy community that I’m happy to be a part of.

I’m not completely sure why the judo community is as strong as it is. There are certainly a collection of good folks who work at it, but we only see each other a few hours every week. But even in those few hours, we all have a common interest. Everyone who comes to the club does so because they want to work on judo. Whatever other overlap, or lack of overlap, we have, judo is a common interest for all of us. Judo also has the advantage of being something that, with care, nearly any two judoka can work on together. If your partner is bigger, smaller, stockier, different gender, much older, much younger, whatever; there are aspects of judo that the two of you can work on.

The common interest is backed up by the principle of mutual welfare and benefit. I can go to a bike race where everyone is interested in biking and winning the race. There will certainly be camaraderie and community, but if someone drops out, the race isn’t really effected that much. I think that most sports like racing where there is individual competition against a group have a lack of connection to other opponents that build a closer community. In judo, I have a vested interest in my partner being healthy and well and coming back to play next class, so that I can play with them directly, and learn with them directly. Empathy for ones partner is immediately enforced. If I play singles badminton, a one-on-one game, I can beat my opponent, but short of interesting rallies, the interaction is limited. With judo, I’m directly connected to my opponent, and if a technique is off, or is done with too much power, there’s a halt in the action as someone recovers. Even the least empathetic person will notice “doing my technique like this means this person can’t or won’t play with me, and I’m running out of partners,” which forces an awareness of others onto someone. I imagine there are badminton players who won’t play with some badminton players because they don’t have fun, but it’ll probably be a subtle avoidance instead of saying “no, I won’t play with you, you’re not safe.” The “my actions on others affect what judo I get to do” drives home the mutual welfare and benefit. I think that something I’m going to have to work harder on as a senior student is making it clear to newer students they have a right to enforce their own safety, and that doing so will help a better judo community grow. This can be taken to extremes, I don’t like being choked, but I accept it as a vital part of judo. Never doing anything uncomfortable would lead to stagnation, or never even taking that first awkward breakfall. But judoka should understand their right to safety, and how to enforce it.

Judo reminds me of dancing in a lot of ways, both physically and in its sense of community. I think a lot of the things that build community in judo also apply in dancing. I’ve noticed that dancers often form romantic partnerships with other dancers, but that it happens a lot less in judo. It might be that the gender ratio is usually sufficiently off balance that it’s never been practical. I’ve noticed for myself, that while I’ve been attracted to the occasional judoka, I’ve never thought “I really need to get the girl I’m dating involved in judo.” Whereas most of the girls that I’ve dated lately I’ve met through dancing, and we often get each other into other types of dancing; judo doesn’t seem to pair with pairs well. I’ve noticed the couples who take the beginning class together and won’t play with other folks don’t progress nearly as much. While switching partners in dancing is also important for learning and progress, dancers often end up having favorite partners and working on their most elaborate moves with them. I think, in part, it’s because dancers build a dance together. Having done a dance move already means you can work on the nuances and subtleties of it with your partner next time. You develop a body vocabulary with your partner, and repeated things become in-jokes or shared moments. In judo, at the end of the match I want to have thrown my opponent. While working on nuances and subtleties is important, there’s a moment where I want to have the advantage of surprising my opponent so I can throw them. In dancing, even with a lead and follow, two people have a conversation. If one person dominates that conversation, it lessons the enjoyment for both parties. In judo, that domination is what gives the play its spice. In randori and shiai, there should be a throw. At the moment of the throw, one person’s will becomes the defining drive. It’s what makes randori different from uchikomi. I’ve yet to meet anyone who would dedicate their life to uchikomi without doing the occasional randori. The techniques are, by design, intended to throw someone who resists or is surprised. Without randori, judo would be even closer to dancing. I think the contest, the feeling that your own skills can be sharpened by pitting them against someone else, is a fundamental part of judo. It’s not in dancing, and its something that would require exceptional care in applying in a relationship. I think an appreciation of that is part of what judoka have in common and helps build the community.

I could exercise in other ways besides judo (and probably hurt myself less often); there are other hobbies that build body awareness, coordination, strength, etc. The martial art of judo is not the most applicable in the field of beating people up in the real world (in my limited experience, that’s hapkido). I have other sources of friendship and camaraderie. But I feel that judo has a built in trend towards establishing a healthy community and encouraging individuals to develop their bodies, empathy, focus, and engagement in community. It does so with patience, open arms, and a joyful reception of every contribution. The physical activity seems to merely be the substrate to build on. I’m looking forward to continuing in the judo community wherever I end up, and helping it flourish.

]]> http://cornelljudo.wordpress.com/2008/08/04/community-and-judo/feed/ 0 cornelljudo http://cornelljudo.wordpress.com/2008/06/23/the-coveted-black-belt/ http://cornelljudo.wordpress.com/2008/06/23/the-coveted-black-belt/#comments Mon, 23 Jun 2008 21:43:21 +0000 cornelljudo http://cornelljudo.wordpress.com/?p=13 ]]> What does it take to become a black belt? Well, that depends on many things, including where you are. Here’s one example of the expected duration:

The course is divided into two, general course for novices, and special courses for those who have completed the general course or its equivalent. In Adult Division, it is planned so as to make one attain the First Dan after finishing three months in the general course and nine months in a special course.

That’s right, in one place, you can, and are expected to earn a First Dan (1st degree black belt) in one year of training. It doesn’t say how frequently you must train, but practices there are five or six days per week. Can you guess where this is? If you said, the Kodokan (the main dojo of judo for the world in Tokyo), you’re correct.

Here’s another example from the British Judo Association:

http://www.britishjudo.org.uk/technical/documents/KyuGradingSyllabus_004.pdf

http://www.britishjudo.org.uk/technical/documents/ExamsheetDangradeTechnicaltheoryIssue2-Jan08.pdf

The difference is quite stark. Here in the US, we have similar requirements to the BJA. In other words it takes years to earn a black belt. So, what are the implications of this, you may ask. It is what it is. You must have brought it up with a purpose in mind, didn’t you?

Of course, I did.  Here it is: I believe that American Judo is shooting itself in the foot with way we go about teaching and promoting in Judo.  I also believe that American attitudes about other aspects of promoting the spread of Judo are off target.

Let’s examine Judo as compared to Tae Kwon Do.  In the U.S, there are an estimated 30 to 40 thousand Judo players.  Although I cannot find a statistic for TKD, I have no doubt that the answer is that there are more, many more.  How did they do it?  Here are a few of my thoughts.

1. TKD is easier to learn than Judo.
2. TKD made it easier to earn a black belt.
3. There is no shame in making money from teaching TKD.
4. TKD teachers love to talk about how good TKD is and how good they are at it.
5. Chuck Norris.

By contrast, Judo loses on every front, but let’s go into a little detail about how Judo can compete.  Judo can be made easier to learn, but we must change how we teach it.  In Judo, we teach a hundred things a few times.  In TKD, they teach a few things a hundred times.  Given that you practice what is taught, you’ll get better at a few things if you practice them more and concentrate your training.  However, given that you need to know more than a hundred things to earn your black belt in Judo, we tend to teach them all, all the time.

In the U.S., the black belt is seen as the label of expertise.  Oooohhhh, he’s a black belt!  Those of us who have done any martial art for a while know, however, that Shodan is just a starting point.  The TKD folks actually made it both.  You can earn a black belt in a reasonable period of time, know a smaller amount of things very well, and feel like an expert in them.  When you’re done with your year or two of training, you have a sense of accomplishment.  Furthermore, you also feel qualified to open up your own school.  On top of that, since there’s nothing wrong with making money from teaching TKD, you may even decide that you’d like to earn a living teaching it.  How many people feel any of these things in Judo after only a couple of years.

As for the loudness of some TKD folks (not everybody’s like this, of course), I could do without it in Judo.  However, there’s a big difference between being a loud braggart and being a confident exponent of your martial art.

It’s hard to counter Chuck Norris, but I’ve said for years that Judo needs a movie.  Any movie that features a Judo player as a main character will do.  I’d prefer that it not be too cheesy, but if it helped grow Judo, I guess I couldn’t complain much.

What I have set forth here will require major changes to U.S. Judo.  I can’t do it alone and if I did, I would likely be ostracized for handing out black belts to people who don’t know everything there is to know about Judo.  Additionally, traveling to another dojo would be awkward.  For example, we have had several people come to Cornell after earning a black belt in Japan.  Their judo was pretty bad by our standards, and these students felt a bit embarrassed about wearing a black belt.  If we simply changed the expectations and training that we did here in the U.S., we could change this and improve our membership rolls.  As in Japan, promotion to higher Dan ranks would increase in difficulty.  However, in the process, maybe we’d have more dojos, more players, and more visibility for the sport and martial art we all know and love.  In turn, this would give us the power to spread the word to still more people and give Judo the prominence it deserves here in the U.S.

What’s your opinion?

Bill

An osotogake walks into a bar. The bartender says, “I see you’re a judo player.” The osotogake says, “Yeah, I tried it a few years ago and got hooked.” Badum Ching!

I invite you to submit your own entries and see if you can do better.

Bill

Another excellent judo book is called Judo Strategies, by Syd Hoare. Like Judo Poems, it’s not an instruction manual on how to perform techniques. Instead, it’s filled with dozens of short thoughts about judo in general. I’ve read through it twice already, taking it in small doses as there are so many topics covered in so many ways. This is a real gem, too.

If you’re looking for some judo reading that’s a bit different than the next “all inclusive judo manual with nothing really new to add”, try Judo Poems or Judo Strategies.

If you’re in the market for a judo book that’s more of an instruction manual, I have a couple of recommendations and some corollary thoughts. First, it’s very difficult to “learn judo” from a book. Until you have sufficient experience, it’s simply too hard to fill in the blanks between the pictures. Videos may give you a better shot, but there’s still no substitute for quality personal instruction. If anything, I recommend books as supplements to instruction to help you remember the techniques and give you ideas for what you might ask your sensei.  As an example, I got into a disagreement (a polite one) with a former student about a technique he was trying.  He’d read about it in a book and showed me the pictures.  But he had misinterpreted them and was trying to do it incorrectly.  I also remember reading the Seoi Nage Masterclass book and not being able to understand some of the entries until I saw a guest instructor performing it and made the connection.

OK, having gotten my warnings out of the way, my first recommendation is Best Judo, by Inokuma and Sato.  While it doesn’t list every throw in judo, it does have lots of high quality pictures and shows numerous throw entries.  It includes entries into holds, chokes, and armlocks as well.  More than your average book’s two pictures and lots of words to describe a throw.

My second recommendation is for a pair of books that are out of print in the U.S.  Vital Judo by Isao Okano is a treasure trove of great judo techniques.  Okano asks numerous Japanese experts to show their favorite throw entries in addition to his own extensive set of techniques.  There are two volumes, throwing and grappling and each is terrific, but the throwing volume is easier to follow.  You can find these online for about $100 each, but you may get lucky and find one at a used book store for a better price.  If you do, grab it.

That’s all for now.

Bill

It’s possible that a new judogi will give you a new and improved attitude in practice, which is always a good thing. It may be more difficult to grip or make grip breaking easier, but that doesn’t really improve your Judo. That just makes your opponent’s Judo more difficult.

Good Judo is about work, sweat, attitude, persistence, and talent. Not everyone’s Judo is destined to be amazing, but everyone’s can be good. Some people are just going to take longer than others.

I was just at the Am-Can International Judo Challenge this past weekend and saw some very good and very bad Judo – just like most tournaments. Also, like most tournaments, I saw good sportsmanship, and good Judo people. After a tournament, it’s important to remember that the real purpose of Judo is to make better people out of us all. Friendly, peaceful, helpful, fit, productive people. More specific to training, the goal of going to a tournament is to see how your Judo is coming along against similar people. How are your attacks? How’s your defense? Did you get anywhere with your ne waza attacks (I saw a lot of ineffective ne waza against some vulnerable opponents)?

After a tournament, I usually found myself working a bit harder in practice. I wanted to do more randori, address some weak points (OK, maybe a lot of weak points), and make my throwing attacks more effective. I almost always had a few specific things for specific situations that I wanted to work on, too. As much as I wished that a new judogi would have done the trick for me, it was my Judo that always needed more work and always will.

Bill

If I want to be good at ne waza forevers,

I’ll stop using muscles and start using levers.

If I want it to be effective, but more so,

I’ll remember that power comes best from my torso.

When applying a hold-down, try just relaxing,

I’ll be harder to move and it’s far less taxing.

When in a hold down, I must try to struggle,

Because for the most part, I’m not there to snuggle.

If I’m being held, my opponent’s no feather,

unless I can use my whole body together.

And so, in conclusion, it’s maximimum efficiency,

That will help my ne waza improve and become more effective.

Yes, all my poems end incorrectly, but the content of the poem describes what I teach my students about ne waza. Too many times, I see people failing to use their bodies as efficiently as they could – all arms and legs straining, but no use of their body weight to help. Most of your weight is in your torso, so why not use it to help generate power. When you’re holding someone down, your torso and gravity can do far more than your arms and legs. When you want to turn someone over, are you using any leverage? Are you using your whole body, or just arms and legs? Side effects may include less exhaustion, more competition victories, and more satisfaction with your Judo life. If you’re not sure, ask a fellow judoka or your sensei if these suggestions are right for you.

Bill