It’s a sad fact that when we conduct combatives seminars, some attendees who have spent money and effort developing their martial arts skills say they regret having done that. Usually, it goes something like this: “Man, I wish I had taken this approach earlier instead of spending so much time doing [this or that] martial art.” In fact, a lot of combatives practitioners impugn traditional martial arts training, and that’s a shame. Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater! If anything, what should be impugned is the lack of effort to “streetify” the martial art being discussed or the practitioner’s decision to choose form over function. Take stances, for example. Few would argue that you should assume a traditional stance in a street confrontation, but learning how to use your hips to generate power in those stances is definitely useful. The principle simply needs to be applied to a more practical boxing or combatives guard rather than a horse stance. To preserve an art, the curriculum should be taught accurately and respectfully exactly as it is. It shouldn’t be altered or contaminated by outside influences. People who pursue learning an art form shouldn’t think they wasted their time because they followed through and actually learned it. But neither the sensei nor the students should delude themselves about what they’ve actually learned, either. Because traditional martial arts are about discipline and form, practitioners initially find it difficult to become more fluid and “natural” (for lack of a better description) in their thinking and application when they first experience combatives. There is no kata, there are no ranks and there’s little structure (except for the curriculum). This can be totally liberating or oddly confusing to traditionalists. The ease with which martial artists adapt to combatives is more a result of how they trained than what they trained in. If the focus was on kata, they’re likely going to be stiff. If, however, their training focused on sparring and contact, their performance will reflect a “looser,” more relaxed and practical approach. Defense is another area in which traditional martial artists may feel like they come up short when they're first attacked in a combatives training scenario. High, low, outside and inside blocks aren’t very effective in street encounters, but the principle of perpendicularity that those martial artists apply while doing them is. In other words, keeping the arms perpendicular to incoming punches is an integral part of both pursuits. A boxer’s head is punched at more often than perhaps anyone else’s. There’s a reason the boxing guard is taught and used by all pugilists — the arms and hands are simply more often available and more immediately available than in any other configuration. The boxer can usually meet an incoming blow with perpendicularity and punch back at will without having to re-chamber. Traditional martial arts blocks tend to get you “out of shape” quickly when multiple punches are thrown, especially punches from different angles. They also force you to re-chamber before you can counter, thus restricting you to whole-beat counters instead of half-beat counters. Another difference is that many martial arts offer students a never-ending arsenal of techniques. Combatives, in contrast, is intentionally finite. Practitioners learn only what the instructor determines to be the most effective techniques, and they learn them right away. Neither approach is wrong, mind you. They’re simply different pursuits taken for different purposes. Instead of chastising a martial artist for having undertaken something they don’t necessarily agree with or see the utility of, combatives practitioners and instructors should look for ways to facilitate the transfer of the existing skill set to a new pursuit. All students start out seeking to improve themselves, right? Whether it’s to boost athleticism, balance and coordination, discipline or self-defense ability, we all have to start somewhere. Over time, however, our needs change and life happens, and we vector our interests accordingly. The fact that a person may have started with taekwondo and now wants to pursue a more succinct approach to self-defense through combatives doesn’t mean everything he learned is bullshit. It means what is important to him has changed, that’s all. Nobody does anything because they think it’s stupid. They do it because they believe that it’s what they need, that it’s what they want or that it benefits them in some way. Rather than alienate someone who presents himself as “here to learn,” welcome him and help him make the transition from -do to -jutsu the way combatives teaches.

He brought a new level of performance to an era when traditional forms still dominated the tournament circuit. Peter Morales , featured on the cover of Karate Illustrated  in 1982 , was a black belt in Won Hop Kuen Do under former champion-turned-Wu Shu phenom Karyn Turner. Morales helped inspire a rising generation of competitors, including future champion George Chung, who openly idolized him. A true pioneer of what we now call CMX (creative, musical, extreme), Morales blended music, showmanship, and flair into forms competition—helping to reshape the landscape of sport martial arts. Learn more about this cover and the entire magazine preserved in digital format: https://www.blackbeltmag.com

Rigan Machado in His Feature Debut, the High-Stakes Film Screens April 28 at the TCL Chinese Theatre Blow for Blow  is set to make its red carpet debut at Hollywood’s iconic TCL Chinese Theatre on Monday, April 28, 2025 . Directed by renowned Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu master Rigan Machado, the film will debut with a full-throttle evening of celebrity arrivals, a live martial arts demonstration, and a screening followed by an exclusive Q&A and VIP afterparty. Presented by Insurgence and Iris Indie Entertainment, Blow for Blow  plunges audiences into the brutal world of underground fighting. The story follows a former gangster turned restaurant chef, whose son becomes entangled with his ex-mafia partners. Forced back into the criminal underworld, he must face trials of life and death to save his son—delivering a gripping tale of honor, betrayal, and redemption. The cast features rising action stars Jean Machado, John Machado, Caleb Caldwell, Andreas Contogouris, Rafaela Gonçalves, Carolla Parmejano, Paulo Costa, Yasamina Kabisch, Cezar Galvão, and Tomm Voss. Photo credit Rigan Machado

If you’re a martial artist and you haven’t seen The Last Dragon  (1985), stop what you’re doing and fix that immediately. Directed by Michael Schultz and produced by Berry Gordy of Motown fame, this film isn’t just a quirky ‘80s throwback—it’s one of the earliest mainstream martial arts movies in the U.S. to feature a Black protagonist, real martial arts choreography, and an unapologetic love for Bruce Lee. Our hero, Leroy Green—better known as “Bruce Leroy”—is on a classic martial arts journey: seeking not just physical skill but spiritual enlightenment. He trains under a traditional master, lives by the tenets of humility and discipline, and literally chases “The Glow,” a metaphor for achieving harmony between mind, body, and spirit. For any martial artist, that’s the eternal pursuit. Taimak, who plays Leroy, wasn’t just an actor pretending to throw kicks. He was a trained martial artist with black belts in multiple disciplines, and his background shows in his crisp technique, clean stances, and commitment to the physicality of the role. It’s rare for an American martial arts film of that era to get the fundamentals right, but The Last Dragon  actually, well, at least respects the art. Of course, no martial arts movie is complete without a worthy antagonist, and Sho’nuff—the self-proclaimed “Shogun of Harlem”—delivers. He’s a larger-than-life villain with exaggerated flair, but look past the bravado and you’ll notice he brings raw aggression and pressure-fighting energy that contrasts perfectly with Leroy’s calm, defensive style. It’s a visual representation of two martial philosophies clashing. Fight-wise, the choreography leans into spectacle, but there are real lessons hidden in the flash. The film emphasizes timing, distance management, and confidence—Leroy can’t unlock his full power until he lets go of self-doubt and fights with full intention. Sound familiar? For martial artists, The Last Dragon  is more than campy fun. It’s a story about growth, discipline, and mastering yourself before you can master your opponent. Plus, let’s be honest—who wouldn’t want their qi to literally light up the room? Whether you train in kung fu, karate, or kickboxing, The Last Dragon  is a must-watch. It’s a reminder that the martial path isn’t just about belts or brawls—it’s about becoming your best self.  Glow on.

The January 1987 issue featured Hatsumi Masaaki, best known as the modern grandmaster of Ninjutsu. Born on December 2, 1931, Hatsumi is the founder of the Bujinkan Organization and the former soke (head) of the Togakure-ryū lineage. His influence extended beyond martial arts dojos—he even served as a consultant on early James Bond films, bringing the art of the ninja to the big screen! In recognition of his contributions, he was inducted into the Black Belt Hall of Fame in 1986. Learn more about this cover and the entire magazine preserved in digital format: https://www.blackbeltmag.com

Imagine a political leader going to Duluth to tell Minnesotans this: “You are the descendants of Vikings. You have the blood of warriors in you. Your ancestors were feared over much of the known world. It’s only reasonable that you are invincible, that you control the lands your ancestors ruled, that you have the rewards they enjoyed, that no other people can match you for courage and daring.” It’s hard to imagine any Minnesotan believing such nonsense. But suppose in addition to being political figures, the people spreading this message were powerful — very powerful — military leaders. And suppose that people who disagreed with those leaders were made extremely uncomfortable. And suppose this message was spread constantly in the media, in schools, in popular music and in churches in Minnesota. Yes, it's still hard to imagine something like this. You have to remember, though, that Japan in the early 20th century was, like the rest of the world, a far different place than it is today. Japan was less than 50 years from feudalism. It was just emerging on the world scene and flexing its muscles. And it was deeply angry at what it perceived as numerous slights from the Western world. What Japan needed was a way to stir up its people, to engage them in a dream of conquest and expansion, one fueled by the burning coals of their own righteousness and “specialness.” The gasoline for this fire was bushido . In the many years I spent with my Japanese sensei, I don’t think I ever heard him use this word. In the classical martial arts, it's never mentioned. Largely, it’s because bushido  doesn’t really mean anything. It’s a vague term, like “patriotism,” that has emotional value but not much in the way of a rational definition. The Japanese of the Taisho period (1912–1926) were a full generation removed from the days of the samurai. The samurai were, for them, not much different than the Vikings were for modern Minnesotans: figures from the vague past. The Japanese government and power structure used images of samurai, romantic and carefully crafted, to convince the Japanese that their ancestors had been motivated by a near-fanatic reverence for the emperor, by utter obedience to rulers and by a willingness to sacrifice all for some cause. The truth is that prior to the mid-19th century, the emperor was about as important in the lives of Japanese, both samurai and commoners, as Santa Claus is to us. They knew of him and believed him to be the descendant of gods, but he played no role in their lives. They prayed to their own local or family deities. Even in ancient Japan, the emperor was primarily a figurehead, one manipulated and even chosen by powerful warlords. “Emperor worship” became such a big deal when it was useful for the military and government to have a leader around whom the country could rally. While we think of Japan as a “country,” in fact, it was until modern times a land of considerably independent fiefs and provinces where, much like the United States until the Civil War, citizens tended to identify with their village or region rather than their country. The idea that loyalty meant an unquestioned obedience to authority was not a historical concept in Japan. Yes, the samurai were expected to give their lives for their lords, but commoners had no such obligation. Commoners could and often did stage strikes, even rebellions, usually over taxes. And armed with rakes and hoes, they nearly always defeated the samurai if things got violent. Further, even for the samurai, loyalty was a two-way street. Just as a samurai was expected to give himself to his lord’s needs, the lord had an obligation to take care of his people — samurai and commoners. The imperial government overlooked this, demanding the Japanese population sacrifice all for the war effort while rarely giving their needs consideration. The construct of Confucianism, that loyalty meant interdependency, was perverted. In a sense, the imperial powers duped the Japanese — or fed them myths and propaganda based on a fraudulent history. How does this affect you, a karateka or budoka in the 21st century? Well, for many of you, your teachers or your teacher’s teachers were once young men growing up in prewar and then wartime Japan. They inhaled much of this propaganda. They matured with the “truth” that Japan was unique, its society superior in every way to every other. They were imbued with the notion that authority could never be questioned. They grew up with a belief, almost religious, that the Japanese were destined to rule the world. Bringing these beliefs and attitudes into dojo in the West clearly has had a profound effect on the development of the budo  here. The distinction between the martial way and the tenets of expansionist Japan got blurred — frequently. Students here were told that the behavior of their teachers was a reflection of the “ bushido  spirit.” They were encouraged to believe what they were doing linked them to the samurai past of Japan. In reality, much of the spirit of the dojo has more to do with the imperialistic goofiness of Japan’s fanatical military of the 20th century. Such misunderstandings have obscured much of the real spirit of budo . Modern karateka sometimes dismiss the history of their art as irrelevant. It is not. Nor is the history of Japan unrelated to the study and practice of karate. Those of us in the dojo are, to the contrary, experiencing it every day.

Think you know your Karate history?  Meet David Deaton —Karate Shihan and beloved champion. Named the #1 Lightweight Fighting Competitor in the nation by Karate Illustrated Magazine , he even graced the cover of the iconic publication. On the NASKA circuit, he dominated the 50 and over Black Belt World rankings: in 1998, he held #1 in forms, #3 in weapons, and #3 in fighting. The following year, he claimed the #1 spot in fighting. A true legend of the sport! Learn more about this cover and the entire magazine preserved in digital format: https://www.blackbeltmag.com

If you’ve ever suffered through stance training until your legs were jelly or repeated a form until you could do it in your sleep— The 36th Chamber of Shaolin  gets it. This 1978 Shaw Brothers masterpiece did more than simply show martial arts on screen—it captured the grind, the growth, and the spirit behind real  training. Directed by Lau Kar-leung (a legit Hung Gar master) and starring the iconic Gordon Liu, 36th Chamber  tells the story of San Te, a young rebel who escapes oppression and begs to learn kung fu at the Shaolin Temple. But instead of instant skill-ups or flashy fight scenes right out the gate, San Te spends most of the film doing the hard stuff: carrying water buckets, balancing on logs, swinging heavy poles in perfect rhythm. Sound familiar? This movie hit differently because it respected the process . Each of the temple’s chambers is basically a kung fu rite of passage—developing focus, timing, coordination, power. And unlike most training montages, these weren’t fantasy sequences. They were rooted in real Hung Gar principles. Lau Kar-leung used his own background to choreograph movements that felt practical, grounded, and brutally honest. For martial artists watching today, it still holds up. But the impact of 36th Chamber  didn’t stop at the dojo. It lit a fire under a generation. The film spread kung fu culture across the globe, especially in places where perseverance and self-mastery spoke louder than words. In the 1990s, the Wu-Tang Clan built their entire mythology around the movie. Their debut album Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)  wasn’t just a reference—it was a mission statement. The reason this film still resonates? It shows that martial arts isn’t about instant revenge or being the toughest guy in the room. It’s about becoming someone better than you were yesterday. Through sweat, repetition, and humility. So if you’re ever feeling stuck in your training—go rewatch The 36th Chamber of Shaolin . It’s not just a movie. It’s a mirror, a motivator, and a reminder that mastery is earned one chamber at a time. DID YOU KNOW? 1. It wasn’t supposed to be a hit.  At the time of release, Shaw Brothers was cranking out kung fu films non-stop. 36th Chamber  was seen as “just another period piece”—until word of mouth turned it into a cult phenomenon. 2. The film was released internationally under multiple names. In the U.S., it was originally titled Master Killer , while in other markets it showed up as Shaolin Master Killer . This made it a little confusing—but also added to the underground mystique. 3. The Shaolin Temple in the film wasn’t real. Most of the temple scenes were shot at Shaw Brothers’ legendary Movietown studio in Hong Kong, a massive backlot filled with permanent sets for temples, towns, and battlefields. No CGI. Just old-school, hand-built movie magic . 4. Gordon Liu wasn’t the first choice for San Te. Liu, who had previously played smaller roles, landed the lead because of his skill and discipline during rehearsals. His intense training in real Hung Gar made him a natural fit, and his breakout performance turned him into a kung fu icon.

Who knows the legacy of James Mitose? The November 1992 cover of Black Belt Magazine featured Thomas Mitose , son of the legendary James Mitose—the Japanese American martial artist who introduced Kenpo to the United States in 1936. In this issue, Thomas shares untold stories from his family's remarkable legacy. Photography by Doug Churchill. Learn more about this cover and the entire magazine preserved in digital format: https://www.blackbeltmag.com

Part 1 of this article examines whether the Olympic Games have been good for judo and taekwondo. For input, we interrogated fire experts, prompting them with questions and hoping they'd offer opinions on other topics that are of concern to them and practitioners of their art. ART:  JUDO ADDED TO THE OLYMPICS:  1964 EXPERT:  Gary Goltz Former president of the U.S. Judo Association Current board member of the Hal Sharp Judo Teachers Foundation QUESTION: Is pre-1964 judo different from post-1964 judo?   Actually, a lot has changed since then. This started after World War II, when judo’s focus became much more on the sport aspect rather than the martial arts aspect. It had a lot to do with the occupation of Japan and Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s ban on the practice of all martial arts. The Kodokan set out to impress the American officers by showing that judo was a sport and a peaceful activity. When the Olympics came to Japan in 1964, they introduced it as an exhibition event. Back then, there were no weight divisions and no females. The only scores were the wazari (half point) and the ippon (full point). Matches lasted up to 20 minutes. QUESTION: Did the imposition of rules for the Olympics change judo from a martial art to a martial sport?   Olympic judo today is more driven by rules than ever before. Wrestling-type moves such as kata guruma (shoulder wheel) and morote gari (two-hand leg reap) are now illegal. This was to force players to use more standing techniques such as uchimata (inner-thigh throw), harai gosh (hip sweep), seionage (shoulder throw) and ashi waza (foot techniques). The goal was to look good on TV and differentiate judo from wrestling. QUESTION: Has Olympic inclusion boosted the popularity of judo overall?   Judo’s popularity soared in most countries with the exception of the U.S. This was due to the national judo organizations’ insistence on maintaining their members’ amateur status to meet Olympic requirements at the time. Here, other martial arts — karate in the 1960s, kung fu in the ’70s, and then Brazilian jiu-jitsu and krav maga now — flourished in part because of the entertainment industry and successful commercialization methods. QUESTION: Does being an Olympic sport help judo create stars?   Absolutely. There are many such examples in Japan, Korea, France, Brazil, Holland, England and even Cuba. The best example in the U.S. is Ronda Rousey, who took a bronze medal in Beijing and then left the sport to become the biggest female star of the UFC. Kayla Harrison, on the other hand, is the only American Olympic judo athlete to take a gold but is far less well-known because she’s chosen to stay focused on judo and enter the 2016 Olympics in Brazil. This illustrates the dilemma faced by those who devote themselves to becoming Olympic champions. They may find that they have limited career options upon retirement. QUESTION: Did judo lose anything when one portion of it — competition — was added to the Olympics while other parts such as kata were not?  When judo became an official Olympic event, competition became the priority. Kata have been made much more consistent over the last five years by the International Judo Federation, perhaps in an effort to eventually make it part of judo in the Olympics, too. EXPERT:  Hayward Nishioka 1967 Pan-American Games gold medalist Black Belt’s 1968 Judo Player of the Year Black Belt's 1977 Judo Instructor of the Year QUESTION: How has judo changed since it was added to the Games?   Judo today is stronger, faster and tactically different due to the influence of the Olympics. The Olympic motto of Altius, Citius, Fortius  (Higher, Faster, Stronger) seems to hold true for Olympic sport judo. One need only look at YouTube submissions to compare the old with the new. Where once weight, height, strength, cardio fitness, nutrition and specialized tactics took a back seat to waza , or techniques, they are now integral pieces of a total package. If you’re missing any one part of the equation, you’re at a distinct disadvantage. Now, all your bullets had better be hyper-packed with powder or you’re in trouble because everyone else comes fully loaded for war. While the quest for excellence is an admirable goal and everyone wants to be a gold medalist, this was not the sole direction that Pierre de Coubertin or Jigoro Kano had intended for sports or for judo. Both were physical educators and came from wealthy families. De Coubertin knew the positive benefits of sport and wanted to use it to promote world peace. Kano believed that the practice of judo would develop better citizens. Unfortunately for them, the Olympic Games and judo have taken on a life of their own and gone in a different direction. QUESTION: Did Olympic officials intentionally alter judo?   The intent at the upper level of the International Olympic Committee is the thought that bigger is better. This is not to say that their higher goals have been displaced by the desire to make money. They have not, but it sure helps when funds are plentiful rather than sparse. The 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, where millions were made, served as a model for running the Games. That’s when we saw professional marketing, increased sponsorships and increased costs to secure TV rights. Events had to change to meet the demands of TV sponsors who wanted more bang for their buck. They called for more action, more excitement and less downtime.  In an effort to adapt, judo changed its rules to make the game faster and more exciting — for example, encouraging an attack every 20 to 25 seconds, requiring the right size judogi  to allow for attacks to be done and eliminating some excessive bowing practices. So, yes, the Olympics forever changed the face of judo. It is no longer a martial art steeped in tradition and culture, which was valued by those searching for esoteric Asian answers. It’s now an Olympic sport driven by scientific training formulas for becoming a champion. QUESTION: Did the Olympics make judo more popular?   Judo people once said, “If judo is included in the Olympics, it will help make it popular.” It’s now in the Olympics, but judo is still not popular in the United States. Later, people said, “If we have Olympic medalists, that will make a difference.” We’ve had several, but it hasn’t made a difference here. Records indicate that there actually has been a per capita decline. For example, the U.S. Judo Federation has had a membership of 10,000 for the past 10 years. The second-largest organization is the U.S. Judo Association with 7,000 members. The smallest is the national governing body known as USA Judo, which has a membership of 5,000. In a country where the population has gone from 290 million to 330 million in the past decade, judo has not grown. Contrast those numbers with France, which now has a population of 68 million and a judo membership of 600,000. QUESTION: How else is judo in France different from judo here?   In France, judo is a household word. The country is home to many of the finest judoka  in the world. Its current champion Teddy Riner is without rival. He just won the World Championship for the eighth consecutive time. No one even comes close historically or in the present. So although Olympic judo can create stars, unfortunately it does not in our country. Nevertheless, the Games are a place where the ideals of developing a great citizen and a responsible person still prevail in spirit. ART: TAEKWONDO   ADDED TO THE OLYMPICS:  1988 EXPERT:  Hee-Il Cho Ninth dan, taekwondo instructor Black Belt’s 1989 Co-Instructor of the Year Black Belt's 2012 Man of the Year QUESTION: Have the Olympics altered the way taekwondo is taught?   Many schools have changed because taekwondo is in the Olympics. However, many schools have stayed on the traditional teaching path. It often depends on the instructor’s age and point of view. Younger instructors may have had exposure only to the World Taekwondo Federation, which means there’s a new generation of WTF instructors and students who are more geared to the Olympic-sport style of taekwondo.  At my school, we prefer to teach a combination of both styles. We do not gear our program specifically to the Olympics. Instead, we use a teaching style designed to give maximum benefit to the students. QUESTION: Has taekwondo changed from a martial art to a martial sport since 1988?   In many ways, taekwondo has changed into an Olympic competition. Many technical advantages have evolved because of the competitive nature of practitioners around the world. Every country wishes to win a gold medal, and therefore many techniques have come about which are specifically geared to Olympic rules. These techniques, however, may not be the most effective for self-defense. For instance, because of Olympic rules, hand techniques in taekwondo have diminished while high kicks have flourished. QUESTION: Have the Olympics helped or hurt taekwondo overall?   The sport of taekwondo has grown immensely in popularity since Olympic recognition. Countries that were never exposed to it now are aware of it. Taekwondo is recognized throughout the world. There have been many positive effects, but there are also some traditional aspects and values that have changed. For many people, the goal of training is different now. In the traditional martial arts, the aim is to perfect one’s character. In sport, the aim is to become a champion. The method and the path are not necessarily emphasized because the primary focus is on the quest for victory, which sometimes is sought at any cost. This is where drugs and cheating can come into play. In sport, the goal of winning can overwhelm any moral values that are part of traditional taekwondo such as those reflected in the five tenets. QUESTION: Does the possibility of winning an Olympic medal in taekwondo result in more children enrolling?   It might help generate interest among children because they’re able to watch talented participants in the Olympics. In the USA, however, there’s not much fame or recognition because of minimal coverage of taekwondo competition by the media. One Hollywood movie like The Karate Kid  generates far more interest in taekwondo than sport competitions do. QUESTION: For children, is it better to learn traditional taekwondo or sport taekwondo?   Traditional taekwondo instills character-building traits like discipline, respect and focus. The child respects the master. In sport taekwondo, often the title of “master” is replaced with “coach.” This can reflect the absence of respect and discipline.  Sport taekwondo is highly competitive, and there’s only one first-place winner, one gold medalist. Second place is barely even recognized. Because of that, the sport aspect of taekwondo appeals to children with exceptional natural talents. In contrast, traditional taekwondo offers success and accomplishments for all levels of skill and natural talent. EXPERT:  G.K. Lee Chief master of the American Taekwondo Association Black Belt’s 2014 Instructor of the Year QUESTION: Does the ATA teach primarily taekwondo for aspiring Olympians or for people who want to become proficient at self-defense?  Our main focus is traditional taekwondo — mental and physical self-defense. The ATA does not currently train members specifically for the Olympics, but we do not prohibit it. The ATA could easily adopt an Olympic-coaching system in the future. Since 1996, we have integrated Olympic-style training into our curriculum. We have employed Olympic coaches and provided Olympic-style seminars and Olympic training camps for our instructors and students. QUESTION: Has taekwondo changed since it was added to the Olympic Games in Seoul? Has it become a sport rather than a martial art?  For some, maybe. But the majority of classes are still being taught by first-generation martial artists who want to keep it traditional. At the ATA, we make certain that taekwondo is a traditional martial art that people can enjoy and practice through old age. Taekwondo hasn’t really become more popular here as a result of the Olympics. Maybe it has in small countries, where they have government support, but not in the United States. Traditional martial arts are not generally supported by governments. QUESTION: Does taekwondo’s inclusion in the Olympics make the art appeal more to the next generation of students?  Of course. And the ATA would like to develop a world champion or an Olympic medalist. However, we prefer to teach our young competitors that while taekwondo is a set of martial arts skills and life skills that can take them to the Olympics, it’s an art that they can practice long after their competition years are over. EXPERT:  Herb Perez 1992 Olympic gold medalist Black Belt’s 1992 Male Co-Competitor of the Year QUESTION: What’s your stance on the pre-1988 vs. post-1988 question?  Taekwondo has been bifurcated into disparate arts with differing expectations, goals, and outcomes. The height of taekwondo as a sport was 1988, maybe with a second crest in 1992. The greatest increases in the skill sets were seen during the years leading up to Seoul and Barcelona — the best players our sport has seen were developed under the rules and objectives used in those Olympic Games.  They were creative players known for their power, speed, and ability to transcend the technical parameters of the game. Techniques were rewarded based on power. They were not rewarded if they were not executed properly and with trembling shock. As a result, athletes had to commit in order to score, and they did so knowing they might be knocked out. However, the referees were unable to keep up with the athletes, and there was a fundamental disconnect between the game underway and the results shown on the scoreboard. Spectators and the Olympic hierarchy became disenchanted with the sport and the ability of its referees to conduct fair matches. As a result, electronic scoring was implemented — prematurely. The early versions of the electronic-scoring system were worse than the referees they replaced. The situation was exacerbated by rules that disallowed the correction of false positives. I was chairman of the Education Committee and vice chairman of the Technical Committee, which wrestled with these issues. Dr. Steven Capener and I created a multitier point system that rewarded different techniques with different points. However, it was based on well-executed techniques and power. The intent was to create a merit-based scoring system that depended on technical and power superiority. This has been bastardized, resulting in basically a watered-down version of a bad point-karate event. In fact, I believe that a decent point-karate open-circuit fighter with a little training could win an Olympic medal in one year. QUESTION: Technically, what effect have the Olympics had on taekwondo?  There are three versions of taekwondo these days. One is traditional taekwondo, which focuses on fighting and training as they were done before 1992. Another is traditional taekwondo as a martial art, which is taught by most instructors who are not in the Olympic pipeline. The third is the “electronic-scoring taekwondo.” The shame for the art is that kicking is a superior method for achieving one’s objectives in a fight. The shame for the sport is that kicking is a great base on which to build a competition format. Because of “electronic-scoring taekwondo,” however, fewer people are focusing on developing power and properly executing techniques. QUESTION: With taekwondo going in three directions, how should instructors lead their students?   I own and operate four dojang with more than 1,800 members. We teach life-skills development through taekwondo. We believe this is the most important benefit of training. Last year, one of my students was accepted to Stanford University — that is my measure of success.

Frank E. Sanchez has been around the block. As a youth in Guam, the U.S. territory in which he was born, he frequently had to call on his martial arts skills to deal with local ruffians.  “When I was young, nothing pleased me more than a good brawl,” he wrote in Black Belt . “More often than not, it was at close quarters with someone who used only his hands — kicking was considered sissy stuff at the time because the Asian arts weren’t widely known. It was relatively easy to overpower such an adversary using hand and foot techniques.”  Sanchez's growing proficiency gained him a reputation as a formidable fighter. He wasn’t always scrapping, however. Often, he could be found singing. Using the stage name Frankie Sanchez — get it? — he recorded a number of regional tunes, including Do You Remember Guam  and Guam, Beautiful Island . Both songs are listed in Guampedia, an online resource that also mentions Sanchez as one of the island’s best-known people. In 1971, Sanchez pooled all his knowledge and experience and created a hardcore self-defense system that he dubbed san-jitsu . Composed of strikes, gouges, bone-breaking techniques, takedowns, and weapons skills, it's defined in San-Jitsu: The New Devastating Fighting Art of the Marianas , a book Sanchez wrote in 1976. The same year, his growing celebrity compelled Guam’s governor Ricardo J. Bordallo to make him an honorary ambassador-at-large for the island. Since the style’s unveiling, it’s been featured in Black Belt  on numerous occasions. “San-jitsu is a compilation of the arts I studied, namely danzan-ryu jujitsu, judo, American karate, and jing jow pai kung fu,” said Sanchez, now 67. To that martial arts amalgam, he added boxing, which he learned from his father Francisco C. Sanchez, a pugilist with the U.S. Pacific Fleet. Trouble Brews   If you’re thinking Sanchez was on a fast track to martial arts success, think again. Back in those days, people who created their own fighting system often got a lot of guff from the establishment. “I had no problems in Guam as I was a public figure at the time,” Sanchez said. “I mixed with a rough crowd, and my uncles were all politicians. But with a good reputation for fighting and with the political backing of my uncles, I guess I was in the middle of a perfect storm.”  In 1981, that storm went from Category nothing to Category 3 when Sanchez and his family relocated to Jacksonville, Florida, and set up a dojo. In short order, he started receiving challenges from people who were looking for a chance to make a name for themselves by demonstrating the superiority of their art. In most cases, once those thugs discovered that their intended prey was an experienced street fighter who wasn’t about to be bullied, the challenges faded away. That was only the beginning, however. Stronger winds began blowing when Sanchez founded the World Head of Family Sokeship Council in 1992. Situation Worsens Sanchez got his feet wet in the can’t-we-all-just-get-along world of multi-style organizations when he founded the American Martial Arts Association in 1991. In response to its rapid expansion, he renamed it the American Martial Arts Alliance. When it went international, Sanchez knew it was time to pull the plug on the name and think global. Which is when his detractors resurfaced.  “It was a natural step from there to start an organization of founders, inheritors, and grandmasters, which I did with the World Head of Family Sokeship Council,” Sanchez said. “But there was major pushback from a group of martial artists from New York and New Jersey at the beginning of the council’s existence. Apparently, they felt that someone from Guam shouldn’t be running a U.S.-based grandmasters organization. It was a little misguided since Guam is actually a U.S. territory.”  During those turbulent times, Sanchez regularly received phone calls and faxes urging him to “go home and pick coconuts,” he said. “Or they would say, ‘Bury yourself deep so that the stink doesn’t rise to the surface,’ and ‘Stay on your throne in Florida and never come to our area — for your own good!’ This alarmed my wife, but it made me even more determined to build my organization.”  The last straw came in the form of a fax that urged him to attend a tournament in New Jersey, where Sanchez assumed his adversaries would be waiting. Never one to shy away from a challenge, Sanchez packed his bags and went. “I waited all day long in an empty part of the bleachers to entice my antagonists to approach me,” he said. “Nothing happened while I was at the tournament, but I did see some tough guys who were probably those who had been threatening me — they were leaving early. I left New Jersey, satisfied that I had faced down my enemies.” Traditionalists Capitulate   Even though some practitioners of orthodox arts disapproved of the WHFSC — after all, it offered recognition to the movers and shakers of styles they regarded as competitors — Sanchez wasn’t about to be deterred. He knew getting martial artists accustomed to using the word soke , especially when referring to others, would be an uphill battle. But he also knew that some big names in the traditional arts were coming on board.  “It took people a while to get over our using ‘soke,’ but it’s simply a Japanese word that means ‘head of something,’” Sanchez said. “There’s nothing nationalistic about a word like that, whether it’s Japanese, American or Swedish.”  Certainly, the WHFSC includes members who are Japanese, practice Japanese arts, and thus fit into the Japanese soke  category. They include Masaaki Hatsumi, Seiyu Oyata, Keido Yamaue, and Masatoshi Oshiro. However, it also encompasses luminaries from non-Japanese arts who wouldn’t otherwise use the title — but who aren’t afraid of it, either.  One of my earliest recollections of Sanchez’s pet project of martial arts brotherhood involves my teacher George Owens, and it encapsulates the way our culture has evolved. In the early 1990s, Owens announced he was planning to attend a “big event down in Florida organized by a guy named Frank Sanchez.” The next time I visited my sensei, I found a plaque bearing the WHFSC logo on the wall. Owens still talks about how he supports its mission, and he isn’t spewing empty praise: The rank certificate he gave me after my next promotion bore a big WHFSC seal. Lessons Spread   Sanchez gained such fame — and notoriety — for standing up to his enemies that he was commissioned to create an article about his experiences for Black Belt . Ironically, it was in rebuttal to a story I wrote titled “The Dangers of Creating Your Own Martial Art,” which ran in the September 1995 issue.  “I did an article for Black Belt  titled ‘What’s Wrong With a Martial Artist Creating His Own System? In Defense of Eclectic Martial Arts’ that appeared in the November 1996 issue,” Sanchez said. “It mentioned Wally Jay, Remy Presas, and Bill Wallace — all members of the WHFSC, by the way — as examples of people who started their own arts. The words I used at the end of the piece went something like this: ‘In reality, the current trend toward eclectic arts is only a repeat of history, when the so-called traditional arts were the eclectic systems of their day, just as today’s eclectic styles are the traditional systems of tomorrow.’” Many would agree that Sanchez’s piece, along with his long history in the arts, helped open the door for other accomplished masters who would choose the path of soke . The ongoing mission of the WHFSC is to recognize legitimate martial arts that, although they may not be hundreds of years old, are showing signs that they, too, will withstand the test of time, Sanchez said. “We’re talking about founders who are older, have a significant student count and teach an art that’s been in existence for a number of years. It’s not about youngsters who form a system in their room after zero years in the arts and have no students.”  Through the WHFSC, Sanchez provides an apolitical support system for the martial arts. “It also offers a way to network and share knowledge,” he said. “It highlights the personal accomplishments of each individual. We have an annual meeting that encompasses seminars from our members and an awards function.”  No matter what his detractors say, Sanchez is doing good work in our world. The World Head of Family Sokeship Council’s current tally of 293 members, many of whom are spread around the world, reads like a who’s who of the martial arts. And the fact that it’s growing says a lot about how the community has come to view Frank Sanchez and his mission.

Remember this powerhouse? The October 1975 cover of Karate Illustrated  spotlighted a rising star—Ray Sua. Then an up-and-coming champion, Sua would go on to dominate the circuit as the Grand Champion of the Golden West Karate Championships, Heavyweight Champion of the Four Seasons Nationals, and 1st place winner at Steve Fisher’s Karate Championship. Later, he made the leap to Hollywood, landing roles in action-packed hits like Escape from L.A. , The Glimmer Man , and The Perfect Weapon . Learn more about this cover and the entire magazine preserved in digital format: https://www.blackbeltmag.com