In this Shaolin Studios penultimate chapter, where like many major film studios with cinematic historical foundations see new studios evolve from the original ashes to keep the films and stories alive with contemporary plots, it’s important to remind new generations that the fount of many a martial art movie has arisen from the fount of martial arts…the Shaolin Temple. When it comes to the Temple Burnings, vital source material is based on the Annals of the Hung League (anti-Ching brotherhood pact created by the Five Elders of Shaolin at the Red Flower Pavilion in 1736) and an old manuscript copy of the Annals of the Heaven and Earth Society in the British Museum. Regarding the Ten Tigers of Canton, they’re filled with contradictory information in regard to the members’ names and existence. Adding to the confusion, other surviving documents from these secret societies corroborate or disagree with these worlds of Shaolin legend lists as reality or fictional non-fiction passings, where perhaps each list includes members of their own respective societies included into the Ten. Also, one Tiger’s name can be represented by two Tigers, thus a space for adding a new name. And this has been done in film. One of the most famous of these films is Chang Cheh’s Ten Tigers of Kwantung (1979; TTKT ) that is missing two tigers: Tan ji-yuin: and a reputed major Shaolin hero that has appeared in other films, Lu A-tsai. In 1979, one of the hottest Shaw Brothers actors was Alexander Fu Shen, who was predicted to overshadow rival film studio, Golden Harvest’s Jackie Chan. Though Fu Shen played Tan Ming, a nonsensical character that is not on any 10 Tiger list, it is my conjecture that he was playing the combined caricatures of Tan Ji-Yuin and Lu A-Tsai. Ten Tigers of Shaolin (1978)– The Big Fib The second most famous film, for all the wrong reasons, is the English title Ten Tigers of Shaolin (1978; see poster above). Though made before TTKT , Ten Tigers of Shaolin mostly features little known actors playing the various 10 Tigers of Canton roles , yet the main star, Bruce Leung Xiao Lung (from Brucexploitation films), portrays a frivolous character perhaps based on Lu A-Tsai. It’s unclear and I’ve never seen the Chinese version, so I don’t recognize the characters names based on the English dub. Chang’s film far outshined this version of the tale. Though the Chinese title of Leung’s rendition translates as 10 Tigers of Canton , when English dubbed films were being bought, the distributers changed the name to Shaolin , because back then, titles with Shaolin were more attractive. We were all pathetically duped, not by accident, but on purpose. Before the listing the remaining six of the 12 Tigers of Canton, it’s a good time to address the hanging question from Ten Tigers of Canton Part I , “Why are there only 10 Tigers of Shaolin or 10 Tigers of Canton, wouldn’t it be better if there were 20, 50 or an army of them?” Answer: The famous Chinese idiom, Shi Chuen Shi Mei (Mandarin Chinese) states that 10 is Perfect and 10 is Beauty. To reiterate from Part I, based on available information, details on several of the Canton Tigers is unfortunately extremely limited. Lu A-Tsai Lu A-tsai was a Manchu, who orphaned at an early age and raised by an abusive uncle, ran away from home, and became a servant at age 12. Living a tough and torrid life, his fortunes changed when he met Shaolin monk Li Bai-fu at a Cantonese opera performance in Canton and became Li's disciple. Lu trained with Li for seven years learning the powerful Flower Fist style before being introduced by Li to one of the Five Elders of Shaolin, Zhi Shan, at Jiu Lian Shan Shaolin. After several years under Zhi Shan and perfecting the rare 8-Diagram Pole skill, (created during the Sung dynasty by Yang Wu-lung that could be used with a spear), Zhi sent Lu to learn Hong Jia-chuen ( Hung Gar kung fu) from its founder Hong Xi-guan (a Ten Tiger of Shaolin), to help Hong set up his new martial arts school and to help spread the art in Canton. In the Liu Chia-liang directed Challenge of the Masters (1976), Chen Kuan-tai playing Lu is seen teaching the secret 8-Diagram Pole skill to Huang Chi-ying's son, Huang Fei-hung to prepare Fei-hung to fight a skilled spear-wielding villain. Another version of Lu's travels indicates that after escaping the Jiu Lian Temple burning, Lu fled to Canton where he met his first, last and only student, Chi-ying. When Lu was on his death bed, and Chi-ying sought his advice on how to defeat the powerful rugged fighter Big Kam, who was an expert of the Left-Handed Fishing Pole, while propped up by pillows in bed and using a pair of chopsticks to represent cudgels Lu taught Chi-Ying the 8-Daigram Pole technique. In the balance, if Chi-ying lost he would have to end his medical practice and close his martial arts school. Lu died at 68 at his home Lei Shan lodge never knowing the outcome of the duel. Two film notes of interest; years later Chen Kuan-tia played Hong Xi-guan, in Executioner of Shaolin ; and Gordon Liu played Yang Wu-lung in The Eight Diagram Pole Fighter (1983). Perhaps a reason why in Chang’s TTKT had Fu Shen play the combo character Tan Ji-Yuin and Lu A-Tsai under the pseudo name Tan Ming is that Chang may have had some kind of sensitivity issue in the 1970s using a Manchu fighter as a Shaolin hero. Tan Ji-yuin Born in Canton, aka Tan Ji-her, his nickname was Three Legs Tan for the three kicks he used during combat: the No shadow kick, something akin to what Jet Li as Huang Fei-hung does in Once Upon a Time In China (1991; OUTIC ), at one time in Hollywood being referred to as the Hong Kong kick; the Ground Tiger Tail Kick; and the Beautiful Dragon kick. Chen Chang-tai Played by Lo Meng, a regular in the Five Weapon Guys films, yet mostly known for his role as the Golden Arm Kid in Kid with the Golden Arm (1979), Chen Chang-tai, aka Tie Zhi-chen, specialized in the martial art Iron Finger thus he was nicknamed Iron Finger Chen. Huang Chi-ying Portrayed by Wei Bai (Snake in The Five Deadly Venoms (1978)), Huang Chi-ying was born in Xi Chao, Canton and grew up as child street performer. During a performance, he saw Zhi Shan's student Lu A-Tsai, who made Huang his first, last and only student. After training under Lu for 10 years, Huang became a martial arts instructor and taught the General of the Canton's Infantry Regiment. He earned little as a teacher and so to make ends meat, he opened the herbal medicine clinic Bao Zhi Lin. No body argues that Huang passed on his knowledge of medicine to his only son Fei-hong, yet whether he taught Fei-hong martial arts or not, it is debatable. Although a constant character as Fei-hong’s dad in Tsui Hark's OUTIC films (1992-94), and in the Liu Chia-liang (the head of Hong Kong’s Hung Men back then) directed Challenge of the Masters (1978), A-tsai trains Fei-hong in Liu's typical fashion, where training is seen as a way of physical and spiritual development, which is most prominent in The 36th Chamber of Shaolin (1978). Donnie Yen's portrayal of a young Chi-ying in the Yuen Woo-ping directed Iron Monkey (1993) is arguably the best film revealing Chi-ying's combative performance. On his deathbed, Lu taught Chi-ying the 8-Diagram Pole technique so Chi-ying could defeat the arrogant and feared fighter Big Kam. Although learning the eight basics of pole wielding overnight and during the duel Kam was trying to kill him, Chi-ying used great restraint, easily defeated Kam without hurting him and thus gained great respect and admiration within the country's kung-fu circles. It was this same conscientious approach to life and martial arts that Chi-ying passed onto Fei-hong, one of the most respected martial artists in martial art history. Huang Cheng-ke As a student of Lu A-tsai, Huang Cheng-ke, not related to Chi-ying (last name is a different character) is oft portrayed as a specialist of the Nine Dragon Fist. Huang Fei-hung Although most historians agree Huang Fei-hung was not a Ten Tiger of Canton, he probably would’ve replaced his father if the Ching’s killed Chi-ying. Though he never become a Ten Tiger, Fei-hung is a compelling and important figure with strong ties to the Ten Tigers, so it seems appropriate to discuss his martial arts history and cinematic contributions here. Born in 1847, in Xi Chiao village, Nanhai county in Canton province, folk hero Huang Fei-hong was the true reflection of the Confucian code. Apart from his phenomenal fighting skills, Huang was renowned for his chivalry, righteousness and "bone-setting" healing abilities. As a child, Huang was a martial arts street performer, then a martial arts instructor for General Li Fu-ling's 5th Regiment of the Cantonese army and the Cantonese Civilian Militia. He devoted all of his time to running his father’s Bao Zhi Lin Chinese herb clinic. Though a practitioner of Hong Chia kung-fu, Canton's best lion dancer hence nicknamed The Lion King, and an expert of Iron Wire Fist and No Shadow Kick , he was renowned for using the weapon Fei Tuo , a metal weight attached to a rope, which may have been developed through his Chinese medicine background from a weighing device similar to a Western plumb-bob scale. Later in life he married Muo Gui-lan, a teenage bride that was bestowed to him in return for saving her father's life. However, deeply saddened by Bao Zhi Lin’s destruction during the Republican Revolution, Huang slowly passed away and died in 1924 at age 77. After his death, he became the subject of a legend, people revering to him as a crusader for justice, a man of benevolence and a teacher of morality and ethics. The irony about Huang is that although his character has appeared in more films than any one individual in world cinema (110+ films and TV shows to date), very little is actually known about the real man. Serialized Fei-hung kung fu novels appeared in seven newspapers and in 1949, filmmaker Wu Pang seeking to revive the deteriorating Cantonese cinema in Hong Kong made a film about the legendary patriot that starred Cantonese opera performer Kwan Tak-hing who went on to make 85 period films as Fei-Hung that featured realistic fight sequences, many choreographed by Yuen Xiao-tian (Yuen Woo-ping's father). This was the official start of the gung-fu pian (kung fu films) that of course hit a worldwide stride with Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. Fei-hung has also been portrayed by Gordon Liu in Challenge of the Masters (1976) and Martial Club (1980), Jackie Chan in Drunken Master (1979), then after a lull in the character there was a rebirth in 1992, with Jet Li in Tsui Hark's OUTIC . As is common in many martial arts films where actual weapons or techniques remain secret, when Tsui had Li do Huang's patented No Shadow Kick, we’d see Li flying sideways through the air kicking his legs like riding a bicycle, nobody knows what the no shadow kick looks like. It also was so fast that it didn’t leave a shadow. A final note on the history burnings, there exists a book called Evergreen, which was written during the Ching dynasty, the Manchu side of the story noting that the Shaolin were not heroes but violent rebels who were justly executed, thus also removing their names of Shaolin heroes long forgotten. It’s worthy to note that Tibet vehemently supported the Chings for 270+ years, a major error by that country because as we see now, Tibet is still paying that price today. Why? It's something all martial artists need to recognize and address whether they’ve fought in the streets, martial art schools or full contact combat sports, they need to know how it relates to their physical, emotional, and mental injuries that come with combat; intergenerational trauma (I.T.). According to the Chi Whisperer, I.T. refers to the passing down of traumatic experiences and their emotional and physical fallouts from one generation to another. This topic has gained significant attention in recent years recognizing that past and current traumatic events, like wars, genocide, slavery, natural disasters, pandemics, fighting and abuse, all have profound impacts on generations to come at the individual and community levels. Chi, something martial artists know, is key in healing intergenerational trauma, thus certainly this is a topic worth discussing later.

BY JASON WILLIAM MCNEIL The year was 2006, and it was my first visit to Hollywood. Whom did I choose to meet first on that day? The foremost name in ninja movies: Sho Kosugi. There I was, standing in Kosugi’s office in the heart of Tinseltown, having just wrapped an hourlong interview on the master movie ninja’s life, career and plans for the future, and the camera crew was making its way around the room, getting pickup shots. I was thrilled to have spent an hour hanging with my boyhood hero when Kosugi upped the excitement ante a notch. “I don’t know if you’re interested,” he said, “but if you want more film…” And with that, Kosugi opened a theretofore-unnoticed office door —seriously, it looked like a utility closet — and ushered us into his secret ninja lair. It harbored a treasure trove of every sword, throwing star, costume, metal claw and chain-mail mask that had ever appeared in an ’80s ninja flick. It also housed a plethora of scripts, original film prints and 8-by-10 glossy color photographs. Once we pulled our jaws off the floor, the crew very professionally filmed every angle of the shinobi cornucopia that Kosugi offered up for our cameras — then very unprofessionally geeked out, tried on every piece of equipment and kept Kosugi an extra half-hour to pose for pictures. So what did we learn from our close encounter with Sho Kosugi? That if, even in a modest production office, one can stumble across a secret room filled with ninja treasures, memorabilia and death-dealing gadgets, it’s obvious that the hidden world of the shadow warriors still hasn’t given up all its secrets. Here are 10 more titillating facts I’ll bet you didn’t know about the ninja. 1. Ninja Swords Had Leather Hand Guards, Not Those Big Square Metal Ones You See in the Movies Risuke Otake sensei of Japan’s katori shinto ryu explains: “This is so they will not rattle when moving around. They also have shorter blades and a longer cord.” Historian Antony Cummins adds, “This is an obvious step for a shinobi to take, and the Shoninki (a historical text on ninjutsu) states that an o-wakizashi is best — which is, of course, a short sword.” [True Path of the Ninja, Antony Cummins and Yoshie Minami] 2. Ninja Fought in World War II From a previously classified document: “A secret military spy school taught ninjutsu … as part of its curriculum. The Rikugun Nakano Gakko was run by the Japanese Imperial Army and was used to train military intelligence operatives in secret.” Some 2,300 soldiers are believed to have graduated from the course before it was closed in 1945, when Japan surrendered to Allied forces. “The students weren’t just taught to sneak around in black-footed pajamas with katana and throwing stars … but also learned more practical methods of gathering intelligence and sabotage, including bomb making and photography,” the document reveals. [“WWII Ninjas? Secret Spy School Taught Ninjutsu Skills to Soldiers,” Adam Westlake, Japandailypress.com] 3. Ninja Beat People With Live Snakes Anyone who’s seen the 1983 classic Revenge of the Ninja can tell you two things: Ninja grandmas are awesome, and a kusarigama is a short, sharp sickle with a chain or weighted rope attached to its handle. That attachment is used as a long-range weapon and for entangling a close-range opponent. However, historical ninja didn’t limit themselves to mere chains and ropes. Masaaki Hatsumi, 34th grandmaster of togakure-ryu ninjutsu, says practitioners would sometimes attach “small, explosive charges or fireballs” and on special occasions “a bound, terrified poisonous snake to the enemy’s body. The enemy would then be so busy dealing with the snake bites [that] he would be unable to counter the ninja as he advanced with his ripping sickle blade.” [Ninjutsu: History and Tradition, Masaaki Hatsumi] 4. Also, With Angry Cats! Kunoichi (female ninja) would sometimes carry a fluffy cat to conceal “a ninja dagger and smoke grenade,” Hatsumi writes. “[The cat] could also serve as a potent distraction weapon when thrown into the face of an unsuspecting intruder.” [Ninjutsu: History and Tradition, Masaaki Hatsumi] 5. Ninja “Magic” Comes From India, Not Japan The shinobi mystic’s half-meditational, half magical practice of kuji-in finger knitting, first popularized in the films of Kosugi, was adapted from esoteric Buddhism. Before that, it was part of some sects of Hinduism. The earliest records of the practice are said to be written in Sanskrit, a 3,000-year-old dead language. Perhaps because of their mystical powers of concentration … [True Path of the Ninja, Antony Cummins and Yoshie Minami] 6. Ninja Put Up With a Lot of Crap — Literally “The most famous ninja assassination story is of how Uesugi Kenshin was murdered in his lavatory by a ninja who had concealed himself [for days] in the sewage pit and who thrust a spear or sword up Kenshin’s anus at the crucial moment,” Stephen Turnbull writes. Despite helping tip the political scales in favor of his presumed employer, Oda Nobunaga, the name of this muck-and-shadow-swathed hitninja, has been practically forgotten by history. The official record simply lists Kenshin’s cause of death as “a stomach ache in his toilet.” [Ninja: AD 1460 – 1650, Stephen Turnbull] 7. Sho Kosugi Is Not a Ninja, But He Plays One on TV The world’s most famous movie ninja — the man who’s done more than anyone to bring Japan’s notoriously secretive shadow warriors into the fickle light of pop culture — is actually a master of shindo-jinsen-ryu karate. In addition, he studied iaido and kendo while in college and, at age 18, became the All-Japan Karate champion. [Ninja: AD 1460 – 1650, Stephen Turnbull] 8 Sho Kosugi Wasn’t the First Movie Ninja Although he’s certainly the most famous — witness his of-course-we-cast-him-as-the-head- of-the-ninja-clan selection for the Andy Wachowski–produced 2009 homage to the genre known as Ninja Assassin — Kosugi is far from the first black-clad shinobi to slink across the silver screen. You Only Live Twice , Sean Connery’s fifth outing as James Bond, introduced Western audiences to Japan’s shadow warriors way back in 1967. Sam Peckinpah’s The Killer Elite, starring Robert Duvall and James Caan, featured an extensive ninja battle on board a battleship, showcasing the slick kicking skills of Tak Kubota, in 1975. 9. Hattori Hanzo Was a Real Person Of course, Japanese audiences have been thrilled to the sight of cinematic ninja since movies and television first found their way east. Arguably, the most famous was Kage no Gundan (aka Shadow Warriors), a popular TV series that ran intermittently from 1980 to 1985. It starred Sonny Chiba as Hattori Hanzo. Not coincidentally, both the actor and the character were later co-opted by Quentin Tarantino for Kill Bill. What Gundan fans might not realize, however, is that Hattori Hanzo was the real name of the real person who was the head ninja in charge of ninja-ing for the shogun’s household. The name and the job were passed down from father to son for generations. 10. Yes, You Can Visit a Ninja Village Japan’s Koka Ninja Village is a popular tourist attraction. It features a range where you can throw shuriken, tunnels where you can explore once-secret escape routes and a nine-stage obstacle course where you can use “ninja tools” to try to walk on water or climb walls. There’s also a museum “displaying various manuals and tools used by the Koka ninja in the past.” Nearby is the Ninja Mansion, a 300-year-old building riddled with passages and more historical artifacts. However, before you sell all your worldly possessions and book your pilgrimage to ninja world, bear in mind that in Japan, the ninja exist mostly in history and comic books. Therefore, going to Koka Village to learn the ancient art of the shadow warriors would be tantamount to showing up at Universal Studios for Spider-Man lessons. [Koka Ninja Village, japan-guide.com]

In 1984, one of the most acclaimed martial arts movies, The Karate Kid, introduced the world to an equally iconic character. Mr. Miyagi, played by Pat Morita, epitomizes the standard of wisdom, patience, and pure skill anyone should be so lucky to find in a teacher. The performance netted Morita an Academy Award Nomination for Best Supporting Actor. There is no doubt that he was a great actor, but, ironically, the man who would play a karate master had no martial arts training prior to taking his famous role. So who was Mr. Miyagi's sensei? There was another man behind the scenes, coaching Morita on how to not only be a karate practitioner, but a teacher as well. His story is as intricate, poignant and inspiring as any film could ever be. Pat Johnson was born in 1939 in Niagara Falls, New York, the youngest of 11 children. When Johnson was two, his father deserted the family, leaving Johnson's mother, who had only a fourth-grade education, to provide for her children. As a result, Johnson and several siblings were removed by child welfare authorities and sent to the Sisters of Mercy Orphanage in Buffalo, NY. He would remain at the orphanage until he was nine. "It was not a wonderful time, let's put it that way," he says. "Finally my mother went to work for the International Paper Mill and was well-established enough to get us out of the orphanage." The family moved into the projects where everyone, like the Johnson family, was "dirt poor." Many of the new neighbors were less than friendly, and some were openly hostile. "When I first got there I saw a bunch of boys playing, and I went out there and said 'Hey guys, can I join you?'" he remembers. "And they beat the snot out of me. I got to a point where I was afraid to go out anywhere." It was here that Johnson's first unofficial martial arts training took place. He had no mentor, no Mr. Miyagi of his own, but the bullying escalated until Johnson knew he had to do something. Sick of being jumped by a gang of older children whenever he walked home, Johnson took matters into his own hands and laid an ambush. "I would hide behind one of these long brick buildings, because I knew where all of these young men went," he recalls. "I'd pick up a bottle, and when one of them came around the corner I'd smack him over the head as hard as I could and run home like crazy. Of course they knew who did it, and the next time they'd see me they'd beat the heck out of me." This process repeated itself seven or eight times, by Johnson's estimate, before the bullies finally gave up in search of easier targets. "That's when I learned that you have to stand your ground no matter what," Johnson says. "To this day I will never bother anyone unless they bother me." Johnson's true induction into the world of martial arts came in 1962, when he was drafted into the Army and sent to Korea to serve as a chaplain's assistant. He quickly befriended a Korean man named Kang Lo Hee who had been assigned to the army as a translator and was a master of tang soo do. Kang proposed a trade: he would teach Johnson the martial art in exchange for help improving his English. Johnson readily agreed. For 13 months, he trained daily in tang soo do. Hard work revealed that the New York native had a knack for the Korean art. By the time Johnson returned stateside, he had attained his first degree black belt. There were no tang soo do schools in Niagara Falls, NY at that time. Johnson, undeterred, opened his own and named it Tim's Studio, after the nearest instructor he could find, Master Tim in Buffalo, NY. Johnson trained with Master Kim to further his martial arts training, and began to travel for regional competitions. While attending a tournament in Detroit, Johnson struck up a friendship with another young martial artist who had trained in Korea. He lived in California and owned several karate schools. "If you ever come to California, look me up," Johnson remembers him saying. "I think we could work together and do really well." Johnson returned to Niagara Falls, but eventually decided it was the right time to move on. "I have no idea to this day what came over me," Johnson says with a laugh. "I just decided to take a Greyhound bus and come to California." He took with him one suitcase, packed with a change of clothes, his karate uniform and the few dollars he had to his name. In California, he sought out the young fighter he had met in Detroit: Chuck Norris. Pat Johnson (center) with Chuck Norris (second from right) and other students. "At the time, Chuck was beginning to open a chain of karate schools," Johnson says. "He had six at the time, and he asked me if I would take over the school in Sherman Oaks, which I did. For whatever reason, I had a knack for teaching the martial arts. There was a balance between discipline and having fun. I think that anything you do seriously, you have to enjoy doing." While teaching at Sherman Oaks, Johnson also joined the school's fighting team, the Chuck Norris Competition Team. He easily secured a spot as team captain, defeating all other contenders. If any of his teammates had been upset to lose, they were certainly grateful to have Johnson on their side later. Johnson was a uniquely talented fighter. His childhood run-ins with bullies came back into play, and it became clear that those early encounters had shaped his fighting style. Just as he had once waited, bottle in hand, he would now wait in the ring, circling. He deliberately left openings in his defense – a lowered hand, one side exposed. Knowing in advance where an opponent would strike gave him an advantage. "I fought guys who were bigger than me, faster than me, stronger than me," Johnson says. "But – and I don't mean this to sound conceited – I never fought anyone that was as smart as I was." Talking with Johnson, it's hard to imagine him as conceited. And besides, his results speak for themselves: his personal record in competition is 198 matches, with 196 victories, one loss, and one draw that he took because it was all his team needed to win. Later, Johnson took over running Norris' studios while the latter went off to pursue a passion for acting. Johnson's own entry into the film industry would take place not too long after, and was almost wholly inadvertent. Through Norris, Johnson met another celebrity from the martial arts movie scene – Bruce Lee. Lee and Johnson formed a friendship, and when directors were looking for stuntmen familiar with martial arts for Lee's movie Enter the Dragon , Johnson's name came up. Most Hollywood stuntmen at the time were not well-versed in the arts – neither reacting to them or using the style to fight. The lack of experience was evident in early takes of one scene, leading the director to reach out to Johnson. But when he got to the set he was in for a surprise. The director asked, "Okay, are you going to do the dialogue?" "And I said, 'What dialogue?'" he recalls. "'Nobody said anything about dialogue!'" Fortunately, there weren't too many lines to memorize. Johnson learned the part and completed the scene, which turned out much more authentic than the original. He played one of a trio of thugs who attempt to assault John Saxon's character, Roper, who has failed to repay a loan from a mob boss. "It's the dough, Roper, or we gotta break something," Johnson's thug threatens. The scene is too early in the film for any serious harm to befall the heroes, so Johnson and the other two thugs are handily defeated. However, that role follows him to this day. "I was walking down the street near my home, and this man stopped and stared at me," he says. "I think, 'Uhoh, looks like this guy's going to give me some trouble.' I'm passing him, and all of a sudden he points at me and says, 'It's the dough, Roper, or we gotta break something!' The line's been called out to him more than once. "I have to just start laughing," he says. "It's sort of haunted me to that point." Eventually Johnson expanded beyond acting and stunt work. He was a writer for the Chuck Norris film A Force of One; he choreographed fight scenes and helped direct Mortal Combat: Annihilation. And, of course, he trained non-martial artist actors for martial arts films. His teaching credentials brought him to the set of The Karate Kid , helping to create some of the most famous characters in martial arts cinema. Although Johnson's primary art had been tang soo do, training at Chuck Norris' school had introduced him to karate, the style Norris had learned from Japanese instructors on the west coast. Johnson taught that discipline to the Kid cast, but even more important was the manner in which he instructed. Johnson (background) coaching. "Ralph [Macchio] and Pat [Morita], they were my buddies," Johnson says. "I trained both of them until they were unable to move, and they would share their aches and pains like two little old men and they built camaraderie through the training." Johnson had read the script, and knew how important the mentor-student relationship between their two characters would be. He tried to foster that bond through the way he trained them. There were also less savory karate practitioners in the film: the bullies of the Cobra Kai dojo and their ruthless instructor John Kreese, the anti-Miyagi. "When I would train [Cobra Kai actors] I would be harsh, very strict – the same way Kreese, who was played by Martin Kove, would have to do it in the script," Johnson explains. "Then whenever Martin did the scenes in front of them, he was me." Johnson was pleased with the way the training turned out, but he is quick to give the actors all the credit for the movie's end result. "Martin Kove was really a wonderful, wonderful man, and for him to act so mean on screen, it was just amazing," he says. "And [Morita] knew when to turn on the anger, and when to make it light. His great acting ability really brought the character [of Miyagi] to life." Today, from his home in Los Angeles, California, Johnson is still teaching martial arts in group classes and private tutorials. He prepares students for the real world rather than movie roles. His teaching remains grounded in reality, something he fears is being lost from martial arts training in general. "The problem…is this: there is no one central governing body that regulates the criteria for what a black belt has to be or know," he says. "If a young man or young lady goes in and trains for a year and they are given a black belt, they've just been told: 'You can kick butt.' And in reality, that's not possible in that period of time." In movies, the good guy often gets to win no matter what. Out on the streets, in dark alleys and bad situations, it's a different story, Johnson says, and that's the real danger of rapidly given belt promotions. The issue is exacerbated by the black belts who, consciously or not, take advantage of their unearned promotions and open schools then pass along their poor training. "It really does devalue the martial arts," Johnson says. "And it's a crime, really." If Johnson has a few worries about the future of martial arts, he's optimistic that true martial artists and true arts will ultimately win out – an ending worthy of a movie. And he is more than happy with where his own story has taken him. "It's been exciting. I've received a lot of recognition for what I've done, and I've always tried to represent the martial arts in a way I feel it deserves to be addressed and represented," he says. "It's been a good run. It's been a really good run."

If you follow any of the social media used by young people in japan, you’re probably familiar with the initials “KY.” It may sound mysterious. It won’t be any less so when you learn that ky stands for Kuuki Yomei. Even if you speak Japanese, it may not mean much: “Read the Air.” Knowing what it refers to can influence the way you train in the dojo. There probably has never been a civilization that has as much homogeneity as that of Japan. In contrast, there probably has never been a society as heterogeneous as that of the United States. Think about it: No Japanese person ever says to another, “What country did your ancestors come from?” All Japanese came from the same place. In a nation where everyone shares the same history, cultural norms and standards, there’s a lot that doesn’t need to be explained. A lot can be taken for granted in personal interactions. It’s an exaggeration, but if a Japanese person feels uncomfortable, the majority of the other Japanese people in the room will — or can — know it. There’s a typical body language that’s expressed. It’s easy to read. In the Japanese dojo, it’s similar: If your teacher is pleased with you, you will — assuming you can read the signs — know it. Likewise if he’s unhappy. What this means is that a great deal of communication can take place without words. Now, way too much has been made of this by Western “experts” on Japan. In some cases, it’s been blown ridiculously out of proportion. Further, it’s absurd to think that all Japanese react to flattery or insults or frustration or happiness in precisely the same way. In general, however, social clues are at least reasonably reliable in the dojo and elsewhere. Classes in a lot of Western karate dojo commence when a senior student sees the sensei walk into the training area and roars, “Line up!” Interestingly, in classical martial arts dojo, this usually doesn’t happen. What happens is that the senior sees the teacher come in and, without making a big deal of it, walks to his place where the lineup is to form. His juniors notice it. Nothing is said. All students automatically take their place. There’s no need for words. This may seem trivial, but it’s actually an important part of training — or, at least, it was during the period when those in the dojo were likely to use their arts in battle. In a battle like the ones those people knew, as in all battles, much was chaos: noise, frenzied action, fear. Communication, if you were depending on a verbal or visible message, was dicey. No, you had to be able to “feel” what the group around you was expressing, to sense it and to react. Warfare in Japan included individual combat. It depended primarily, though, on formations and group action. All that “lone samurai” stuff is romantic nonsense. If a samurai couldn’t work in a group, he died. Many Japanese terms are used to describe this nonverbal communication. A group, tightly knit through training of a martial sort, is sometimes called a dantai, which implies individuals who are moving as a single, effective unit. Haragei , literally “belly art,” is a word that describes the communication that comes viscerally. (It’s interesting that this word was probably coined by a Westerner trying to explain it.) This brings us back to kuuki yomei. To “read the air” means to be able to sense what’s going on without being told. It’s critical for the serious karateka to develop a relationship with a real teacher that’s based on being able to read the air around that teacher and in the dojo in general. Visit a dojo, a real one, on several days and you’ll see what might look like a different place. One day, the mood is lighthearted with some joking and people enjoying themselves. Other days, the mood is tense, tight. Nobody’s talking. Everyone is working with deadly seriousness. These differences arise because the students in the dojo can read their teacher. They know that on this day, he’s happy with them and with their training. On that day, he’s seeing something he doesn’t like. They respond to both accordingly. Now, we’re not talking about teachers who are mentally unbalanced, who veer from smiling to snarling in the blink of an eye. We’re talking about sensei who know when their students are doing their best and when they’re slacking off, when they’re completely involved in the session and when they’re drifting. The students, especially the seniors will be sensitive to this, as well. Think of the dojo as a kind of ant colony. The seniors are those who have one antenna keyed to what’s going on around them. They may be chatting with others before the day’s training begins. They have their other antenna tuned to their teacher — even if he’s just standing around, talking with others. They very quickly will be able to determine what he wants. Juniors will be tuned to their seniors and will key off them. There’s no easy way to learn to read the air in the dojo around one’s teacher. If you think learning karate is confined to coming in, taking a lesson, practicing and then leaving to go on with your life, you’re out of luck in acquiring this talent. You have to concentrate, to focus, to be aware of everything that’s going on in the dojo. It demands time and incredible effort. If you want to say that you do a Japanese martial art, you won’t have a better chance to actually do that than to learn to read the air in a dojo. Dave Lowry has written Karate Way since 1986. For more information about his articles and books, visit blackbeltmag.com and type his name into the search box.

You would have to have followed MMA for a fair amount of time in its short history to recognize there was a BC and a BCE. Hold on! Before you think this just got religious, we mean there was MMA Before Conor (McGregor) and what it is. Because of Endeavor (the company that now owns the UFC). Prior to these two tidal shifts in the sport there was notmuch talk of “stars” or potential for Mixed Martial Arts to be anywhere near mainstream. It was a much smaller and manageable task to be a fan. So, given the sport has grown exponentially bigger than the past and the billions now floating around, how can one engage in MMA and be a real fan (whatever that is)? Here is a list of 5 things one might do to engage with the sport and not get overwhelmed or be stretched to the point of attention fatigue. Training to be in MMA (as a Fan): #1 – Spend at least some time studying Martial Arts. This of course might be taken as suggestion to go to a gym or dojo and put on gloves or a gi and engage physically. If you take it this way, more power to you (pun intended). But the main idea here is that like so many sports, MMA’s beauty is in its intricacies. For reference, go search Demian Maia’s triangle (we are already in training here if you don’t know what that is) of Chael Sonnen. Initiated by striking-styled distance closing, continuing to something like a wrestler’s lateraldrop with the triangle clearly in Maia’s mind before hitting the ground, and its finish, it is incredible! Everything we love has to have a degree of insight to be appreciated, and MMA is no exception. Training to be in MMA (as a Fan): #2 – Get to know the fighters (within reason). Unlike sports such as baseball or football where the “stars” can have longevity and names atop lists and headlines (for better or worse), MMA moves very fast. Sadly, the window of time for a fighter to compete or be popular is very small. The fire burns bright, but fast. While hardcore fans can know rosters of any of the big promotions deeply, the nature of the sport’s revolving door means you may need to take a more bite-sized approach. Maybe pick a fighter who you find yourself rooting for and purposefully choose to follow their career (even outside the arena). Or, maybe pick a weight class you can attach focus to. Gyms, coaches, disciplines or specific arts, prior events, etc. can all be ways to know fighters and their trajectories. A suggestion as an example: coach Trevor Whittman and those he trains. Intriguing! Training to be in MMA (as a Fan): #3 – Develop some healthy hipster tendencies. Ok, we all know someone who needs to take 17 minutes to explain why their French press coffee is better than my 42 lb. bag of beans from the mega-store, so please proceed with caution here. Derek Lewis and Francis Ngannou 1 was not a good fight. Period. If you catch yourself speaking of “edge of your seat” or “chess versus checkers” or “needed the W” ad infinitum, you are doing this one wrong. But, it does behoove the real fan to want more than a flash knockout or spinning back-whatever in a fight. Learn to appreciate strategy. Go watch a Georges St. Pierre fight or two... perfect balance for this. Be just precious enough. Training to be in MMA (as a Fan): #4 – Take in enough, but not too much content. There is a dark side to sports. Most agree the best thing about sport is its ability to help the fan have some release from real life. Well, if you did not know, learning how the proverbial sausage gets made in MMA can be very disheartening. If you love the sport and want the fighters to be appreciated, be prepared for disappointment. But for heaven’s sake – still be a fan! If you don’t appreciate what the men and women do who put their lives and health on the line, maybe no one will – not even their promoters. Listen to what the fighters think is important. Fighter pay is important. Fighter safety isimportant. Care, but don’t let it ruin the love of the game. Watch fights, listen to interviews, but beware the rabbit-holes and trollish allure that can trap you. Training to be in MMA (as a Fan): #5 – Know what you are getting into. Who are we kidding? This is bloodsport. People get hurt. Badly. Bones get broken. Consciousness is lost. It is not for the faint of heart. But it must be said that you do not need to be a bloodthirsty psychopath to love it as a fan. In fact, it might even heighten your empathy quotient to get invested in following people willing to do so much to succeed. But there is no amount of flowery language that covers the bloodstains on the canvas. It takes some level of seeing combat sports as a microcosm of life to be attached to it. That is a soul-searching exercise for the fan as well as the fighter. This writer has always loved the humanity in spite of the brutality. MMA deserves your attention. Hopefully this will help with how to spend it.

As humans we have been measuring things for eons. From the early days of tracking the sunrise and sunset, to the rise of the industrial revolution, and now into the age of wisdom, we track how long we work, sit, meditate, and breathe. This human characteristic of tracking and measuring has given rise to the intelligence quotient (IQ) tests and standards designed to assess human intelligence. In fact, you can take a test to see where you fall on this spectrum, keeping in mind that it is a measurement manufactured by the human brain. The measurement of IQ is a 20th century concept, but since the age of our friend Confucius, exercise and mindfulness were thought to enhance intelligence. This trend continued into the Renaissance era of the 1400s when exercise was considered to be a main ingredient for determining how smart one could be. Why? Because our ancestors understood that to engage in a practice of physical exercise requires mental focus, and mental focus adds to one’s ability to be “smart.” In this scenario, however, we were only looking at the brain in terms of showing a quick-witted intelligence. Centuries ago we already understood the true MindBody connection. We knew that memory enhancing exercises like katas, dance, and other practices that require mental memory as a prerequisite to physical muscle memory, kept our brain sharp. In addition to improving physical reactions and reflexes, they increased our ability to focus. The concept is described in this phrase, so overused we have forgotten what it really means: “The body can only be as quick as the mind.” At the turn of the century, form the 19th into the 20th, we began to move into an age where emotional intelligence is the new trend. This is where martial arts comes into the picture. Kuksanym, founder of the Kuksoolwon lineage, eloquently states in his book: “In the east it is not enough to be strong and smart because there are many forms of exercise that promote aggression. A true martial artist knows how to control one’s emotions, thoughts, and ultimately, the surroundings and circumstances. Ki breathing is a fundamental component of calming the mind: allowing your body to rest and recuperate, and your mind to organize and prepare.” The connection between martial arts and emotional intelligence —which you can now of course measure in a test —is not a new discovery. It is an ancient body-mind practice that is evolving into new ways of moving meditation, as found in many modern-day arts, including Jungshin Fitness. One of the main traits of emotional intelligence is the ability to act vs. react in any given situation. Daniel Goleman, emotional intelligence guru, has developed a number of ways to understand this. One model can be found by looking at Goleman’s 4-quadrant system defined by, Self-Awareness, Social Awareness, Self-Management,Relationship Management. For more details into the Goleman’s recognition/awareness quadrant please refer to his work. For the purpose of this article our focus is on the natural elixir of emotional intelligence found in practicing the martial arts. Let’s examine some of the emotional intelligence skills we practice and embody as martial artists: Forms: Forms require us to move in all planes of motion (frontal, saggitall, transverse). This means that we develop spatial awareness above, below, and around. Compare this to our more modern-day exercise of sitting on a stationary bike while watching TV or texting. (I’m all for that! It’s a great way to get in a workout.). This exercise, while requiring muscle memory, does not require the type of mental acuteness required by a kata. Forms enhance complete trust in intuition, a main trait of emotional intelligence. Breath Work: Part of being a strong martial artist is knowing how to control one’s breathing. This is especially true in the art of weapons where the inhale and exhale may not be as steady as the art of doing forms. This ancient practice of breath work enhances our ability to self-regulate, another vital trait in enhancing one’s emotional intelligence. Self-regulation aids in our ability to pause, reflect, and decide—before acting. Combat: In the art of combat one must be able to manage her own core, relationship to gravity, and emotions, as well as engage another person’s physical and emotional boundary. This ability requires acute emotional intelligence. In Jungshin we call this the “me-not-me” approach. The best fighters are those who can stay in their circle and know how to manage their edge so that no one can pass into it. Beyond just the competition, the athlete/martial artist/practitioner must know how to handle their emotions first, and then they can successfully engage with their surroundings. Great business leaders demonstrate emotional intelligence by applying the five pillars of emotional intelligence: self-awareness, self-regulation, empathy, motivation, social skills.Ability to manage one’s emotions and stress. There is a Chinese word, Wuwei, that means, “doing-not-doing.” Humans have known this way of the Dao for centuries. Now, in the 21st century, we are being called upon to step up this practice. Or, as Wayne Dyer says, we need to “Do the dao now.” By teaching martial arts, we are providing our students a way to enhance their emotional intelligence. Think about how you learned martial arts. Your body had to feel the forms. It was not enough to understand angles and memorize numbers. The body and mind had to work in unison. The emotional intelligence you acquired from your martial arts practice informs the graceful, kind and powerful person you are today.

When Bruce Lee died back in 1973 he was just 32-years-old. Martial arts fans have often wondered just what he'd have been like if he'd lived into his later years. How would his martial arts have developed? What kind of movies would he have done? What would he have thought of the UFC? While we'll never know the answer to most of those questions, now we may at least know what Lee would have looked like if he'd lived into his later years. Turkish photographer Alper Yesiltas has made use of AI technology in his project "As If Nothing Happened" to provide renditions of what famous icons who died young might look like in the present day if they had lived. Along with musical figures like Jimi Hendrix and Tupac Shakur, actor Heath Ledger and Britain's Princess Diana, Yesiltas provides a fascinating glimpse of how a now 81-year-old Lee might appear .

This is the final article of a five-part series in which I will be sharing my opinion on the five most important steps one must take on their journey to become a successful sport karate competitor. If you haven’t read part four about humility, you can find it here. The first four articles of this series were meant to follow a timeline as one progresses through their sport karate career. When you first start, it is important to show up and compete as often as possible. Then, you must find mentorship that will help you develop as a competitor. After you go through that development and find some success, it is time to understand your position in the sport as a leader. When you experience extended periods of success, or you can feel yourself on the precipice of success, it is important to remain humble to continue your progress and not become overly frustrated by the process. This final step, changing the game, comes after all of that. This is what I consider to be the difference between “good” and “great” competitors. Good competitors compete for a number of years, win overall grand championships, and are respected for their accomplishments. Great competitors do something that changes the sport, setting them apart from all of their peers as well as making themselves unique compared to those who came before and all who will come after them. I believe the most important distinction that will help any competitor change the game is to be inspired by legends of the past without trying to be like those all-time great competitors. The famous Be Like Mike Gatorade campaign in the 90’s does not apply to sport karate. Whereas in basketball, modeling your game after Michael Jordan and striving to play just like him will create another historically great basketball player with the right work ethic (Kobe Bryant, anyone?). In sport karate, particularly in forms and weapons, everything is subjective. If your goal is to do double sword just like Kalman Csoka, every judge will think of Kalman Csoka when they watch YOUR sword form. If you want to change the sport, the judges shouldn’t think of anybody but you when you are on stage. This DOES NOT mean you can’t be inspired by Kalman if you are a sword competitor, because you should be. It simply means that if you want to achieve greatness you have to find that thing that sets you apart. My best advice to help you achieve this feat is threefold: do what you love, keep an open mind, and work hard until it happens organically. I say this because it is the exact process that worked for me. I have loved this activity from the moment I went to my first tournament and competed in forms, breaking, and point fighting. The number one thing that kept me involved in this sport for so long is that I love everything about it. You don’t necessarily have to enjoy every aspect of sport karate, but you should certainly be passionate about whatever events you are competing in. The “doing what you love” part if self-explanatory, but what about keeping an open mind? If you had asked someone “Is that Jackson Rudolph kid ever going to be any good?” in 2008, the answer would have been “He has a chance, but he’ll only ever be a traditionalist.” Believe it or not, this is true. I won my first division at the AKA Grand Nationals in 2007 for traditional weapons, then I was in the traditional forms and weapons runoffs consistently until Diamond Nationals of 2008 when I made stage for the first time with traditional forms. So where did CMX (creative/musical/extreme) weapons come into the picture for me? I had always loved competing in CMX weapons and was doing so even when I had more of a reputation as a traditional competitor. The key for me was that when I was having success with traditional, I never stopped training CMX to focus on what was winning. I kept an open mind, knowing just because traditional was my best division right now, that doesn’t mean that I won’t one day excel in CMX too. If I had done what many competitors do and specialized too early in my career, I never would have achieved anything that I am blessed to have done with that green bo. The final phase of changing the game that I mentioned was to work hard until it happens organically. This means that you must have an exceptional work ethic and put in ridiculous amounts of time perfecting your craft. However, training time should not be spent thinking, “how am I going to change the history of the sport today?” Instead, training should first be focused on perfecting your technical skills. If you don’t have solid basics, it won’t matter how great your ideas are because the judges won’t be paying attention after they see the first terrible front stance. Meanwhile, you should always have the thought of “how can I be different?” in the back of your mind. This thought will generate ideas that you can try when choreographing new forms. Many of these ideas won’t look very good (just being honest), but some of them will and those are the skills and concepts that will set you apart from the competition. If you accumulate enough of these unique skills and concepts, next thing you know you have developed your own style. A style that the sport has never seen before combined with a collection of major championships is the recipe for a truly great career in sport karate. Be inspired by the past, but work every day to make the future of the sport better. Innovation is the key to greatness.

Toshiro Mifune is one of the greatest actors of all time. An actor who could truly do it all. Making his name in Samurai films, Mifune is the image you think of when you think samurai. Prior to Mifune, Samurai were clean shaven, honourable men in pop culture. Mifune was different. He was gruff, bearded, he has limp in his step and a squint in his eye. Put it simply, there were samurai movies before Mifune, and Samurai movies after Mifune. Mifune had a long and storied career, with a wide variety of roles. He is most famous for his collaborations with Akira Kurosawa, often considered the greatest director of all time. They collaborated on multiple samurai films, including Seven Samurai and Yojimbo, but also crime dramas like The High and Low. Toshiro Mifune was always the leading man. Yojimbo, perhaps his most famous role, saw him playing the samurai Sanjuro. This movie was illegally remade into ‘A Fistful of Dollars’ with Clint Eastwood playing the archetypical man with no name. Even across genre, Mifune’s presence is felt, as the movie attempts to keep the essence of his performance as Sanjuro, with Eastwood channelling the same coarse, rough energy that made his samurai movies a success. Mifune was not only game changer for the depiction of the samurai, but became a huge defining influence on the Western genre, which began to move away from John Wayne style adventures, and started borrowing heavily from Kurosawa and Mifune’s collaborations. What was so impressive about Mifune from an acting standpoint, was that he was adept at two very different types of acting. He could be quiet and methodical, with a grounded realistic performance that you would expect to see from Stanislavskian actors like Marlon Brando, yet was comfortable with large, grandiose performances more akin to Shakespeare. This certainly helped him in Animas Trujano, a now strange seeming Mexican drama, in which Mifune played a Mexican man, was dubbed over and the creative team hoped nobody would notice. Toshiro Mifune, much like Tony Leung, had great control over his eyes in a performance. Many actors will try their hardest to express their emotions in a dynamic, eye-catching way, to prove they are a great actor. They will have twitchy or otherwise generically ‘crazy’ performances. Mifune on the other hand, just had that look in his eye. He would never stare blankly, there was always something behind the eyes. Perhaps part of what made him so good, was that he was just gifted with a rugged, eye-catching face. He had a piercing stare, handsome features, and an intimidating air about him. The truth is that with any performance in a movie or play, the experience of the audience comes down largely to their interpretation. Great actors will use internal monologues, and while I can’t say for sure if Mifune used this method, a standard practise is for actors to constantly be thinking in character, always being in a scene, aware of what your character wants, and what your character feels. An actor on screen may just be looking at someone, but in their mind they are thinking ‘how dare you’ or ‘I love you’ and the hope is that internal monologue finds life beyond the eyes of the actor. Yet the audience will never be able to hear the actors’ internal monologue and can only ever guess as to what the character is thinking and feeling. There is a relationship between the actor and the viewer, and Mifune knew this. He wouldn’t blindly shout, he would just behave in character and trust the audience to find the point he was trying to make. Nowhere is this more evident than his performance in Rashomon. A movie where the whole point, is that there are multiple interpretations of one event. In Rashomon, Toshiro Mifune plays a bandit, this bandit could be a rapist and murderer, he could be innocent of wrongdoing, and it all depends on which characters interpretation of the films events you believe. There is no answer, and Mifune gives you no true answer with his performance. In each character’s version of events, he plays the character as a real man, he portrays the character ‘truthfully’ as many acting teachers will say. There is no clear indicator that he is lying, nor that he is telling the truth. He is just a man. That will forever be Mifune’s greatest skill as an actor. He took Samurais, corrupt businessmen, doctors and many more archetypes and made them squarely, solidly, human.

In Part 1 of Self Defense , I shared that when I was 16, taking 30 pills/day and in the hospital every three months, my doctor told me I'd be dead in five years due the incurable fatal disease cystic fibrosis (CF), a deadly illness that robbed me of my breath and ability to digest food. I noted that today’s ultimate self-defense classes try to improve one’s odds of surviving lethal street attacks. In 1973, my self-defense aim was to increase my odds of surviving the continued life-threatening attacks of CF on my fragile health by embracing a martial arts lifestyle and seeking to learn the best self-defense skill martial artists don’t know; how to breathe. My only chance of survival was to learn the auld Chinese breathing art of Chi Gong to empower my chi . Moving to Taiwan in 1979, after a rigorous test, a chi gong teacher accepted me as his first, last and only student. Five months later, all CF symptoms were gone, and I was off all medication. Many folks ask me, what was it like for me living with CF? Imagine having Covid-19 with wicked diarrhea, 24/7, 365/Days of the year. Enough said. In Chinese, Chi Gong (translation: working of air) can be one or a series of standing, sitting or lying down breathing skills, which can be used to transform a body's chi ( ki ). The intention and way a person practices chi gong dictates if the physical practice can transform the chi into something constructive, in my case, improve my health. I’ll address these things another time. Literally translated as air , on a superfluous level, folks familiar with chi describe it as one’s life force, internal energy, or vital energy. One of the world’s top Chi Healers, the Chi Whisperer, has a fresh and uniquely poignant perspective, “Chi is the quantum of the existence of the universe,” she explained. “Before one can appreciate this definition, one needs to understand that quantum is the smallest distinctive unit of a phenomenon. Thus, chi is the smallest unit of our existence. It’s the foundation of the universe. “The existence of chi is the existence of our universe. Chi is everywhere, in everything, and it doesn’t matter if we can feel it, know it, or believe in it or not; it’s just there. Chi isn’t a religion or a philosophy; chi is . “Why should anyone care about chi? I care about chi because I care about my existence and our existence. When we care about something, we can make a choice if we want to do something about it. One can focus on climate change, earning money, human rights, voting rights, abortion or life rights, self-growth, growth with God, etc.” The last thing my chi gong mentor told me when I left Taiwan in the winter of 1981 was, “Don’t try to save the world with chi gong, because no one will listen.” After five years of chi gong and still off medication, though I understood my mentor’s message, I wanted to at least try save a wee bit of the world with chi gong. To create attention, I decided to do something insanely tough that no one else on the planet in their right mind would attempt. I chose to place my Ph.D. research on hold and put my life on the line by challenging myself to a crucial test that would be a major triumph or a bitter defeat; speed walk 3000 miles across America. My goals were to give hopes of survival to kids and teens with CF, hope for their parents and to show the importance of chi gong, exercise (walking and martial arts) and accentuate the power of a positive mental attitude when it came to combating terminal disease. Personally, I needed to know if my sustained chi gong enhanced body self-defense skills against CF’s mortality onslaughts under extreme unceasing physical, mental and emotional stress were effective, and further prove that chi gong is a potent therapy against CF beyond just feeling good. When word got out, Dr. Warren Warrick, head of the University of Minnesota's renowned CF Center, claimed I was a fake and wanted to prove I didn't have CF. He quickly confirmed my CF diagnosis and showed that 30% of both of my lungs were completely deteriorated because of CF. He tested me then told the Chicago Tribune that chi gong was a useful therapy for CFers and possibly for those afflicted with other lung diseases. He approved the walk. May 18, 1986, weighing 175 pounds and with my wife driving an 8-passenger van (the CF Mobile) filled with medical equipment, a positive attitude, camping gear, food, water and oxygen tanks, I began my epic journey from Cornell University, NY. After doing a marathon/day for 115 days at 4.3 mph and weighing 140 pounds, I ended my 3000.2 mile walk in Seattle, WA, so I could also pay respects to Bruce Lee's grave, the man who influenced me to learn martial arts. Each day was filled with physical, mental, and emotional struggles. Memories of danger, happiness and tears still abound. Throughout the saga, terminally ill children of other diseases promised me that if I completed my walk alive, they'd fight harder. In Pennsylvania, a distraught mum slapped my face, screaming why didn't I walk last year when her daughter with CF was alive and needed inspiration? She cried in my arms and begged me not to fail. In Ohio, a CF kid into baseball couldn't understand what I was doing until his dad said imagine running around the bases a million times. He asked me to score a million homeruns. On Labor Day, near Bismarck, North Dakota (ND), a family whose wheelchair-bound son had muscular dystrophy (MD) and CF heard that I was walking through ND, drove 60+ miles up the interstate looking for me to show their son that I was for real. When the kid struggled to reach out and shake my mind, and made the connection, the mother cried, and the father stifled his tears. Then something happened I was not prepared for. The sobbing mum asked me, “Can you help our son now?” When I gazed into her eyes then saw the son excitingly rock in his chair, as if applauding his mum for saying something he was unable to. I assuredly grinned and gently answered, “I can.” Five minutes later, I had taught him the first chi gong skill I learned six years prior. Due to his lack of muscular coordination, I made quick adjustment to accommodate the chi movement. I urged him to practice as often as he can. With eyes full of hope, he bravely promised he’d do it every day. The family gave me a Kit Kat bar and a need cold cola; I continued walking. Just as they drove by me and the son was struggling to successively wave, I realized the walk wasn’t about me proving my health to others, yet for me to help improve the health of others. Whether being attacked by millions of vicious black flies and mosquitoes, avoiding cars accidentally or purposefully trying to hit me, dog attacks, removing rocks from my face and legs left by speeding-by 18-wheelers, and walking downwind up steep mountain highways for 10 miles toward vile fecal stenches emanating from animal farms, I kept pushing forward. Through heat stroke, sun poisoning, serious muscle injuries, heavy winds, pounding rain, golf ball-sized hail, freezing temps, heat exhaustion and foot blisters having blisters, I refused to walk attached to an oxygen tank, even on-camera, like the supportive TV/press suggested I do for dramatic effect. I'd never cheat myself or the hundreds of thousands cheering me on. When the Minnesota Twins asked me to throw out the first baseball, a 75-mph fast ball down the middle and the team manager excitedly asked how I could do that, I said, “I’m a martial artist.” Folks opened their hearts and homes, giving us a place to sleep, a home-cooked meal, and arranging public appearances for me. In Illinois, a United Nations lawyer had me address a crowd of 3000+ at an outdoor Christian musical fest. Their love was powerful. Though the achievement garnered nationwide and global attention, as I received a M.A.D.D. Humanitarian of the Year Award, addressed Senators and Congressman at the prestigious Washington Press Club, received a letter of bravery from President Ronald Reagan and prior to the walk, a letter of moral support from the Queen of England, the greatest achievement happened a month after the walk. When my wife and I were invited to fly out to Bismarck, North Dakota to mark November 17, 1986, as Craig Reid Day in Bismarck, the respiratory therapist at the hospital stormed into the ceremony and asked, “What did you do the kid?” After I asked, “What kid?”, he teared up and said that the child with CF/MD that I taught chi gong to two months, just had his best pulmonary (lung) function tests of his life. Part 3 of this Self Defense trilogy is more insane than Parts 1 and 2, in a positive way of course.

Mikey Musumeci is a shooting star in the world of martial arts. The talented athlete has captured the imaginations of the grappling world with his ability to innovate new techniques and change the game in the process. It is an ability that has led him to ONE Championship and elevated the entire sport with a new global platform. "Darth Rigatoni" will compete for the inaugural ONE Flyweight Submission Grappling World Championship against a familiar foe on Friday, September 30. Musumeci will meet Cleber Sousa in a trilogy bout at ONE on Prime Video 2: Xiong vs. Lee III to settle their series and establish the first-ever king of the flyweight division in ONE. As part of his training, Musumeci likes to continually push himself to find solutions to problems. It has allowed him to develop creative solutions and new submission techniques. And the 26-year-old is not shy about explaining how he stays on the cutting edge of the sport. "Okay, so basically how I just innovate and discover positions, I like training with very few people. I'll train with like five or six controlled people. Like, I consider it a lab experiment almost. I'll be doing a move, and then I'll slowly keep changing my partner's reaction, like, oh, instead of doing this, do this, this stops what I'm doing. Then I'll have to adjust what I'm doing," explained Musumeci. "I'm constantly changing my partner's reactions and making them able to stop the moves I'm doing, so then I can't just keep doing the same move. And that keeps making me have to improve. And that's how I basically train, I will be doing a position over and over, and then I'll tell my partner, this is how you stop it. And then they'll stop it. And then I have to do another thing. And then I'll tell them, this is how you stop that, then I can do another thing, right?" As Musumeci and his training partners drill these new techniques, Musumeci is acquiring knowledge on how to succeed in any position. He improves his instinctual responses and can anticipate his opponent's reactions. And that is why he has fallen in love with the sport of submission grappling. "Eventually, it gets to a point where one of the reactions really starts messing up what I'm doing, and I have to keep brainstorming how do I do this? How do I do this? So I get into this problem-solving state. Usually, it happens first subconsciously. My body will just instinctively do an answer to a position. And I'm like, what just happened? How did I do that? And then that's where the creativity just happens, you know," said Musumeci. "And that's why Jiu-Jitsu is an art. Because there's so much creativity in problem-solving, in figuring out moves, it's a feeling if that makes sense. And when you have that creative, artistic way, you're able to discover new things. And many positions I made and developed have been in that state of discovery." Musumeci will hope to display his next round of innovations at ONE on Prime Video 2 and electrify the world with another standout performance. Musumeci returns to the ONE Circle at ONE on Prime Video 2 on Friday, September 30. The event airs live at 8 p.m. ET/5 p.m. PT. Mikey Musumeci Breaks Down His INSANE Debut | ONE Playback BJJ phenom Mikey Musumeci breaks down his incredible ONE submission grappling debut against Japanese legend Masakazu Imanari at ONE 156 on 22 April 2022! Fol...

This is the fourth article of a five-part series in which I will be sharing my opinion on the five most important steps one must take on their journey to become a successful sport karate competitor. If you haven’t read part three about the importance of leadership, you can find it here. Humility is a tenet of martial arts training across the spectrum of styles, to the extent that most martial arts studios have a poster about humility somewhere along their walls. Not only is it integral to your journey as a martial artist, it is essential for a successful career in sport karate. Although this idea feels as if it doesn’t need to be stated, I selected it as one of the topics of discussion in this article series because a lack of humility will end a sport karate career very quickly. The most common method by which I see this happen is a sense of entitlement. There is an old saying among veterans of this sport: “sometimes you will lose when you should have won, and sometimes you will win when you should have lost”. The first part of this quote is expected, everyone who has ever competed in sport karate knows that you will get “robbed” sometimes. That is the nature of a subjective sport, sometimes the judges will simply get it wrong. However, competitors commonly forget the second half of this quote. If there are times that you lose when you shouldn’t, then the inverse must be true as well. There will be times that you are not the best, and you still win. This very fact is what sometimes causes a sense of entitlement among athletes. I feel this is best explained with an anecdote. A competitor, we will call him “Johnny”, has been traveling the circuit for a couple of years and has progressed to the point that he is winning his division consistently. However, in the runoffs (second round of competition to qualify for the finals), he has never gotten better than 9.97 across the board. There are two competitors in the age group above him that are more experienced, consistently outperform Johnny, and they always split the 9.98’s and 9.99’s. At this tournament though, one of those competitors drops their weapon and the other has a significant stumble coming out of a tricking pass. Johnny takes the win and advances to the night show for the first time in his career. I will interrupt this story here to clarify that this is still a big deal. It is NOT a bad thing to advance to stage for the first time because other competitors made mistakes. Their performance is out of your control and if you still do what is necessary to win, you absolutely deserve to be on stage. Where this story is significant with regard to the humility discussion is what happens next. I have seen various competitors in similar situations handle this in two different ways. They are as follows: The Wrong Way: Johnny leaves this tournament believing that this win means that he is now just as good as the competitors who normally defeat him. He thinks to himself, “Finally! It’s about time the judges recognize how good I am and start giving me the win! I should have been beating those other guys way before now…” Fast forward to the next two tournaments, when Johnny’s competitors each hit their forms and Johnny loses both grand championships. Johnny gets visibly frustrated as the judges show their scores, and he briskly walks out of the ring without acknowledging his competitors. The Right Way: Johnny is grateful for the opportunity to compete on stage, but he is honest with himself when he assesses the skillset of his competitors. He thinks to himself, “Man, that sure was cool getting to be on stage. I know that I got a little lucky with those stumbles by my competitors, but now that I’ve made it to the finals I need to train even harder to make sure I can make it there again!” Fast forward to the next two tournaments, when Johnny’s competitors each hit their forms and Johnny loses both grand championships, except this time Johnny is able to steal a 9.99 from one judge. Johnny shakes the hands of his opponents, then tells his dad at ringside, “That judge gave me a 9.99! He thought I should have won! This means we are doing something right, I can’t wait to get home and train some more.” Yes, these examples are a bit hyperbolic. The main takeaway that I want young competitors to get from this message is how humility set up Johnny for future success. When Johnny was NOT humble and felt that he was entitled to win and make it on stage after getting there one time, he quickly got frustrated by losses. This frustration leads to burnout very quickly, making athletes dissatisfied with their results whether the result was warranted or not. On the other hand, when Johnny was graceful in victory and humble in defeat, the losses he experienced only motivated him further. His mindset following the opportunity to compete in the finals pushed him to work harder, helping him steal a 9.99 in the runoffs at one of the following tournaments. His outlook on his career is more positive overall and this will equip him for longer, more sustainable success. I’ll conclude this discussion of humility by tying this theme back to the previous article, about leadership. Notice that in the version of the story in which Johnny lacked humility, it led to some negative public displays of him storming out of the ring following a loss. As you can imagine, this is going to leave a very poor impression to everyone watching and is unbecoming of a leader in the sport. As someone who is good enough to win a division on the NASKA world tour, you have a responsibility to carry yourself as a professional. Always stay humble, and it will positively impact your career in innumerable ways.