The first person I briefly mentioned earlier was Broody. He was a kid about my age; I think maybe a year younger. He had long black hair and glasses and dressed Goth-like, kinda like Goth Kid, only sensible. He was quiet, except when he held a goshinken in his hand. My first memory of him was the first day I started iai class. He wore his hakama like he owned the place, and he basically did. He was a new sho-dan who was the only one under thirty and healthy enough to keep us on our toes. He frequently worked advanced katas in a corner by himself, so I didn’t get much teaching time with him. He did, however, teach me one good lesson- speak, or forever hold your peace. I really liked him- okay, I had a crush on him if you really must trivialize it, but that’s what it was. He left just months before I started my blog and I mention him now because those first months for me (the last months for him) parallel my own last couple of months.
From what I understand (and gather from snippets I got from the Benevolent Matriarch , Head Sensei, and others, was that he walked away only weeks before his black belt test. He said he wasn’t ready. When I heard that, I thought he was absolutely crazy. Why quit just when black belt is in reach? Surely, if he wasn’t ready, he could reschedule? But now, after recently going through it myself, I have come to understand why he left us. Anybody can earn a black belt. To want to live up to it is another story. The case of a guy in my blog I referred to as Applebee’s Guy may help explain this. He, unlike Goth-like Broody, was a clean-cut kid with a winning smile and a friendly hello for everyone. He was helpful, a decent (if sometimes easily flustered) teacher, and worked very hard in class. Then, he got his black belt. A week later, he split. Without wanting to disappoint any of us, he said that he was off to college out of state and he would stop in from time to time- but six months later, there he was at the local university, working at the same Applebee’s, and he never did come back. Applebee’s Guy disappointed us with a smile and a lie, whereas Broody, outspoken about his unhappiness about the school, disappointed us with honesty. Now, who deserves a black belt?
Broody was a good lesson for me, not only in judgment of character, but in making the most of an opportunity. His leaving was even more gut-wrenching for me as he was replaced by Nerdverd. I give him credit for coming back once- he and Head Sensei talked and watched a class. I should have spoken to him then, and said, “Hey, thanks for everything,” but I didn’t. Another opportunity lost, and since I’ll probably never see him again, I’ll have to take this as an experience.
The next person I met that impacted me probably had the biggest impact of the three I will speak of here. I don’t remember when the first time I met him was, but I think it must have been on my first day of aiki class. I dubbed him” Verizon Guy” because of his job- and he was always at wits with his job- and I remember him being very friendly from the start. He was at the bottom of the totem pole just like me, and being that aiki was a small class back then and we were about the same size, it was only natural we would become partners. They say you tend to have one person that helps you learn more than anyone else, and for me, it was him. Verizon Guy was a fairly quiet guy, and like me, shared gripes about the wayward brats running around and always getting your ass handed to you in order to learn a new trick. He took meticulous notes. Every class he had a pen and paper, ready to transcribe new techniques. I preferred to draw myself. We figured out really quick that aiki doesn’t translate well into words. He and I must have beaten each other up a hundred times. We were very close in rank- I was a belt behind him in karate and we were the same rank in aiki. It made training much easier. Head Sensei could always leave us in a corner for an hour and we’d keep each other entertained. Getting our blue belt was the most ridiculous endeavor we did, doing nothing but tai otoshi and screwing it up until we were red in the face.
It took us a year to get our first aiki rank, and we eventually did get that throw down, but the toughest problem we both faced was trying to combine our martial arts life with everything else. For me, it was the trials of health and school, and for him it was workplace politics. I’ll never forget when we talked outside of school for a good twenty minutes while I was waiting for my ride. It wasn’t anything important, but it wasn’t really something I was accustomed to doing (talking with other students outside class). It occurred to me then that he wasn’t making small talk, and he could leave in his car at any time (and he had a pretty sweet car, too), but he didn’t. He kept me company. It was then I realized I had a friend at school.
For about three years, he and I were partners. We rolled together, goofed around, cried when they changed the aiki book, and hated kids. For that time, it was just he and I, the only adults in karate. When three more came in, we were elated. He had just made brown belt and I was purple with stripe (4th kyu, for anyone who is wondering), when word came down from his job that he was to be transferred. Damn. That set me back in martial arts for long time. I doubt he knew what an impact his leaving had on me. It…well, sucked. No more of his famous haymaker, elbow, hammer-fist combo which he dubbed “around the world and back”, or his “patented” headbutt. He told us he would look for instruction when he was settled in his new town, and I hope he did. I just wish, even though I know he couldn’t have, that he would have stayed.
And so, this brings me to Batta. His name means “grasshopper” in Japanese, a funny thing considering he is a powerhouse in his own right, with his wrestling and boxing background. But Batta is a special student because he’s the first person I’ve known personally before he joined the school. He developed a hatred for kids really quick, which endeared him to me, and he genuinely wanted to learn. I have to confess that Batta is more than a student to me…but I think that is another chapter for another day. Batta has helped me fill the emptiness that Verizon Guy left, as well as put Broody behind. I miss them still, but I gained a lot and then some with Batta. I wish I could write more about him, but his story has just begun. I think when there is more to write, that it will be something most extraordinary to share.
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