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Put on a Sammo Hung fight today and something clicks almost immediately. The movement feels grounded. The timing feels honest. And even decades later, nothing looks like it’s trying too hard to impress you. Sammo Hung didn’t build his action around trends or tricks. He built it around how bodies actually move—and how fights actually unfold. You can see it clearly in Warriors Two . The choreography doesn’t rush. Stances settle with strikes landing. Entries are earned. Techniques don’t vanish into fast cuts—they play out long enough for you to understand why they worked. It’s the kind of clarity that feels familiar to anyone who’s spent time drilling fundamentals instead of chasing flash. Then there’s weight. Real weight. In The Pedicab Driver , bodies hit the ground with consequence. Throws look exhausting. Falls change the pace of the fight. No one bounces back instantly, because Hung's fights understood something many action films forget: damage accumulates. Fatigue matters. That respect for gravity is what keeps these scenes from aging. Nothing floats. Nothing resets magically. Every movement costs something. Hung also knew that speed isn’t what wins exchanges—timing is. In Enter the Fat Dragon , his character isn’t overwhelming opponents with endless combinations. He’s beating them to moments. Stepping into openings. Letting attacks miss by inches, then answering decisively. It feels closer to sparring than spectacle, which is exactly why it still reads as real. Even when comedy enters the picture, the skill never disappears. Wheels on Meals is often remembered for its humor, but the fights land because the movement underneath is airtight. The jokes don’t replace technique—they ride on top of it. Hung could make you laugh without ever asking you to suspend disbelief. Underneath all of it is a deep traditional foundation, filtered through experience. Peking Opera training, classical kung fu, hard conditioning—then stripped down and adapted for chaos. Forms become fragments. Structure stays, ornamentation goes. What’s left is movement that holds up under pressure. That’s why Sammo Hung’s fights still work. Not because they’re flashy, or clever, or iconic—though they’re all of those things—but because they’re a showcase of actual skill. And no matter how much action cinema changes, that doesn't age out.

In the 1980s, if you were a martial artist watching Hong Kong action films, you expected lightning-fast choreography, fearless stunt work, and performers who could actually fight. What you didn’t expect—at least at first—was to see a blonde American woman trading blows with the best stunt teams in the business and looking completely at home doing it. Then Cynthia Rothrock showed up. For many fans, Rothrock was their introduction to something different: a female action lead who didn’t just participate in the fight scenes—she was  the fight scenes. Her kicks were fast, her technique was clean, and the camera never had to hide what she could do. Now she’s telling the story behind that rise in her new memoir, Rothrock and Roll with the Punches: Surviving Hong Kong Action Cinema . Before the film career, Rothrock had already built serious credibility in the martial arts world. She was a multiple-time world champion in forms and weapons, part of the generation of competitors who helped define the tournament scene in the United States. Precision, speed, and showmanship were already part of her game. What came next, however, was something very different. Hong Kong cinema in the 1980s wasn’t just another stop on the action-movie circuit—it was  the circuit. The industry had perfected a style of filmmaking built on real martial arts ability, high-risk stunt work, and choreographers who expected performers to take hits as well as throw them. It was fast, physical, and famously unforgiving. Into that environment walked Rothrock: a Western woman in an industry that had very few Westerners at all. Her memoir pulls back the curtain on what it took to survive—and succeed—there. Training with elite stunt teams. Navigating language barriers and cultural differences. Learning the rhythm of a filmmaking machine that moved at breakneck speed and expected performers to keep up. Rothrock did more than keep up. She became one of the era’s standout action stars. For martial artists watching those films, the appeal was obvious. The kicks were real. The movement was crisp. And the fights had the kind of authenticity that only comes from performers who actually know what they’re doing. But her impact went beyond the choreography. At a time when women in action films were usually limited to supporting roles, Rothrock proved that a female martial artist could carry the entire film on her shoulders. That idea—now common in modern action cinema—was far less obvious in the 1980s. That’s part of what makes Rothrock and Roll with the Punches  such a promising read for fans. It’s not just a memoir about movie sets and stunt work. It’s the story of a martial artist stepping into unfamiliar territory and refusing to back down. For fans of classic action cinema, the book offers something rare: a firsthand look at the grit, bruises, and determination that helped shape one of the most exciting eras the genre has ever seen. And, as Rothrock makes clear, sometimes the best way to earn your place in history is the same way you earn respect in the dojo. You show up—and you’re ready to fight. Interested in checking it out? You can purchase it here: AMAZON

It’s not my intention to hurt anyone’s feelings or to make anyone angry. Nor do I wish to belittle accomplishments or enthusiasm. However, if you’re a serious karateka, you need to consider the enormous differences between karate pursued as a combat art and karate pursued as a sport. Karate as a combat discipline is a repository of remarkable, layered and complex methods and concepts. Far beyond the physical techniques, the strategies of good karate are sophisticated and, when implemented correctly, brutally effective. While some of these strategies may have application in sport, most do not. That’s because the goals of combat and sport are not the same. While this may seem obvious, often it’s not—particularly in the mind of some modern practitioners. In terms of karate as a combat art, you are a predator. This will shock some readers. We’re accustomed to thinking of predators, particularly in human form, as evil. Predators are aggressive. Karate is “self-defense.” We’re not supposed to be out searching for prey. By “predator,” however, I mean the mentality that’s generated through the practice of karate or another budo. Sport is, one way or another, a performance. The karateka who jerks to attention and roars “Kanku-dai!” to announce his kata in a competition is, essentially, performing. He may interpret this behavior as “showing strong spirit.” It is, nevertheless, an affective behavior, a display. Karateka in tournaments typically demonstrate this. In kata competitions, maniacal screams and kabuki-like scowls are practically mandatory. Affective behaviors can be effective. In baseball, for example, a batter who steps out of the box at just the right moment can disrupt the concentration of the pitcher. In some ways, the heavily loaded belt of a police officer is an affect. It looks intimidating and can influence those seeing it who might otherwise be tempted to engage in a crime. However, such displays rarely do much in the face of a serious threat. Think about how effective it is to adopt a martial arts posture in front of a robber who’s pointing a gun at you. Compare this affective behavior—shouting and posturing—with that of a classic predator. A tiger about to attack does not roar. It does not make displays. A tiger approaching its prey looks almost casual. It’s relaxed. It’s completely absorbed in what’s going on, but there’s no external demonstration of aggression. The reasons for the tiger’s attack behavior—and the success it leads to—are numerous. First, when you announce your “strong spirit” to an opponent, you provide him with information about you. Giving an opponent information is always a bad idea. He can now ramp up his own aggression or become more careful and calculating based on what you’ve shown him. The tiger shows nothing. No fear, no aggression. Its prey gets no clues. As important, the shouting and extravagant display behavior of those in a sporting arena require a tremendous amount of energy and adrenaline. It’s impossible to maintain that level for long. This is the essential lesson in confronting post-traumatic stress disorder. Soldiers forced to be “on the edge” without being taught to calm down, to release the energy once the threat of combat is over, cannot always deal with reality imposed by peaceful situations. (Classical martial arts once used on the battlefield by samurai often contain intricate methods, chants and rituals designed to deal with this stress.) Many years ago, I was at a judo shiai, one in which the final match was intense. The two contestants had worked their way through several opponents over the day. Their victories were hard won. Everyone could feel the excitement for the final, and it went to the last few seconds before one young man made a clean throw and won. Loud cheers erupted. The winner was surrounded by a crowd, clapping him on the back. Shortly afterward, there was a brief awarding of medals. The winner’s gold was looped around his neck. He walked off the mat, that goofy, relieved smile of happiness on his face, still receiving congratulations. His sensei appeared in the crowd.“Let’s do randori,” the sensei said. Free practice. “Now?” the guy asked. “Now.” It was the hardest judo practice I have ever done. My body had already relaxed, dumping the excess adrenaline I’d generated all day. My legs and arms felt filled with jelly. It wasn’t a matter of being tired; it was more that I’d geared myself up, worked myself to a furious level of intensity. Now that it was over, my mind told me it was time to relax, to drop the intensity. When I was called on to “get up to fighting speed” unexpectedly, I was overwhelmed. I was using a sporting model of behavior. My sensei reminded me with that post-shiai randori that judo is not a sport; it’s a martial art. And one must be expected to maintain not an intense, focused concentration but a relaxed, consistent level of awareness that doesn’t fluctuate wildly. Again, this is not to diminish karate as a sport. Rather, it’s to emphasize the critical differences between the mind of the athlete and the mind of the martial artist. For the latter, performance is not the standard. Performances have different goals, different applications. Remember that the natural realm of the tiger is not in the circus ring. The nature of the tiger is expressed in a very different place.

For those who only know the polished version of today’s combat sports, it’s hard to explain what the “blood-and-guts” era really meant. In the 1960s, tournament karate wasn’t about sponsorships and branding — it was about grit. Minimal pads. Hard contact. Long days. It was one division after another, and in that unforgiving crucible, Joe Lewis stood out. Here are five reasons why, from our vantage point, he stands on the Mount Rushmore of American karate. 1. He Won When Winning Meant Something Different Lewis didn’t dominate in a refined, point-tapping era. He won when heavyweights collided with force and consequences. The tournaments of the ’60s were raw, and his victories were earned the hard way.                                        Joe Lewis circa 1967. Copyright Black Belt Magazine 2. He Redefined the Heavyweight In a time when size often meant stiffness, Lewis moved with speed and precision. He brought athleticism and intelligence to the heavyweight division — and retired from full-contact competition undefeated as a champion. Joe Lewis with a young Bill Wallace 3. He Helped Build Full-Contact Karate When full-contact karate emerged in the early 1970s, many traditionalists hesitated. Lewis didn’t. He stepped forward and helped legitimize it. His bouts were not exhibitions — they were proving grounds. American kickboxing owes much of its early credibility to his willingness to test himself under those rules. 4. He Blended Boxing and Karate Before It Was Fashionable Today, cross-training is expected. Back then, it was controversial. Joe Lewis incorporated Western boxing — footwork, head movement, combination punching — into karate strategy. It was revolutionary. He wasn’t abandoning tradition; he was evolving it. We watched the shift happen. And the sport was never the same. 5. He Carried Karate to the Big Screen As martial arts moved into popular culture, Lewis stepped into film, appearing in Jaguar Lives!   and Force: Five . He represented American karate with authenticity — not theatrics. 6. The Respect of Legends In our pages and at ringside, we witnessed the mutual respect among pioneers. When figures such as Chuck Norris , Bill Wallace , Jeff Smith , Mike Stone , and Bruce Lee  acknowledged Joe Lewis, it wasn’t hype — it was earned regard from men who understood combat at the highest level. Photo credit: Joe Corley, Battle of Atlanta Hall of Fame 7. He Produced Thinkers, Not Imitators As an instructor, Lewis emphasized understanding over mimicry. He wanted students to know why  techniques worked. That intellectual rigor shaped a generation of American martial artists. Joe Lewis Fighting System 8. He Helped Mold American Martial Arts From point fighting to full-contact competition, from stylistic purity to blended striking systems, Joe Lewis stood at the crossroads of transformation. American karate did not simply grow during his era — it evolved. And he was one of its chief architects. Black Belt's View From Ringside Mount Rushmore is reserved for those who define an era. We chronicled the tournaments. We photographed the battles. We published the debates about contact and tradition. Through it all, Joe Lewis remained constant: evolving, competing, teaching and pushing the boundaries of what karate in America could become. That is not nostalgia speaking. That is history. From where we stood — ringside, notebook in hand — Joe Lewis carved his place in stone.

PFL Sioux Falls Returns to the Sanford Pentagon on Saturday, May 2 Former LFA Champion Cheyanne Bowers Makes Her PFL Debut Against Undefeated Sabrinna de Sousa at Flyweight Pre-sale Begins Today, Wednesday, February 25 at 10:00 am CT and Tickets Go On-Sale Thursday, February 26 at 10:00 am CT PFL Sioux Falls Will be Available in the U.S. on ESPN2 and ESPN Deportes The Professional Fighters League returns to Sioux Falls at the Sanford Pentagon on Saturday, May 2. Headlining the card, former Interim Bellator Welterweight World Champion and No. 4-ranked Logan Storley (18-4) takes on No. 7-ranked Florim Zendeli (11-1-1) in the welterweight main event. In a women’s flyweight bout, PFL debutant and South Dakota’s own Cheyanne Bowers (7-2), former LFA Champion, looks to make a statement when she enters the PFL cage against Brazil’s undefeated No. 9-ranked Sabrinna de Sousa (5-0). Pre-sale tickets for the event are available now to PFL newsletter subscribers. Tickets will go on sale to the general public on Thursday, February 26 at 10 a.m. CT via Ticketmaster. For more information on tickets, visit pfl.info/siouxfalls. Additional bouts will be announced shortly. “Storm” will return to the cage in his hometown of Sioux Falls for the first time since 2024, following a semifinals run in the 2025 Welterweight World Tournament. The four-time NCAA Division I All-American looks to remind the world why he is a former Bellator Champion and deliver a statement performance in front of his hometown crowd, a place where he has never been defeated. Across the cage stands a formidable opponent in Florim Zendeli, the 2024 PFL Europe Welterweight Champion who boasts an 82% finish rate. Zendeli looks to spoil Logan Storley’s homecoming and keep his winning streak intact, coming off a unanimous decision victory over Omar El Dafrawy in October 2025. The Main Card will be available in the U.S. on ESPN2 and ESPN Deportes at 10:00 pm ET/7:00 pm PT. The early card will begin at 7:00 pm ET/4:00 pm PT on ESPN+.  Updated PFL Sioux Falls Card:  Sanford Pentagon, Sioux Falls, SD May 2 | 10 pm ET ESPN2 & ESPN Deportes (US) Welterweight Main Event: #4-Logan Storley (18-4) vs. #7-Florim Zendeli (11-1-1) Women’s Flyweight Bout: Cheyanne Bowers (7-2) vs. #9-Sabrinna de Sousa (5-0)

Hard training can be tricky because a lot of people are uncomfortable at first with the intensity. Don’t take it personally when the violence gets cranked up. It’s not intentional, but it is reciprocal. I’m going to bang on my partner as hard as I expect him to bang on me. We’re going to push each other as hard as each of us is willing and able. If you get stuck with a partner who isn’t as motivated to wick it up, keep switching partners until you find a kindred spirit. Over the years, I’ve established the following ground rules to maintain order and keep things from getting out of hand. They hold people individually accountable for their own and each other’s safety, ensuring that self-defense training is intense but relatively injury-free. No One Gets to Watch If you show up, you’re training. This rule reduces the performance pressure felt by students as they learn and attempt new techniques. No one likes to do anything they’re not good at, looking and feeling a little foolish until their skills improve. If everyone’s sharing the challenges, getting sweaty and banged up, no one feels self-conscious. By the way, instructors are not excused from training. No preening or prancing prima donnas allowed. After demonstrating a technique, instructors should crank out some reps alongside their students, then prowl the mat. It maintains credibility and provides another opportunity for students to watch, learn and then execute techniques. Everyone is subjected to each other’s scrutiny. Everyone sweats. Everyone bruises. Everyone bleeds. Save the Cheap Shots for the Street If you’ve been training awhile, you’ve no doubt run into the guy who loves to let one rip and then immediately apologize: “Oops! I’m sorry, man. You OK?” But then it happens again and again. Don’t let anyone get away with that in your training group. Sure, everybody slips up once in a while; it’s inevitable. But this guy? This guy you promptly knock on his ass when it’s your turn. Give it back to him as hard as he gave it to you but without the apology. He’ll get the hint. When everyone understands that gratuitous smackdowns aren’t tolerated and that excessive force is reciprocal, unpleasant situations just don’t seem to develop. Stick to the Drill Do the drill as demonstrated and directed. If you’re the role-playing attacker working with a partner who’s fending off high-line strikes, then throw high-line strikes. But let’s say you close on your partner and throw a low-line shin kick to set up your high-line strike — you should pay for that. We have a saying: “If someone gets out of line, redline.” It means that if you go offline by doing something in a drill that you weren’t directed to do, your partner gets to go offline, too. When everyone’s training hard, there’s a real potential for injury. Don’t increase that potential unnecessarily. Save your creativity for freestyle sessions when it’s appropriate. Always Protect Yourself Sometimes training gets pretty crazy, especially during duress drills. It’s everyone’s personal responsibility to protect themselves. The result could be tragic if a student’s depth perception is off by just a few inches when executing a stomp to the ankle, an ax hand to the throat or an elbow strike to the base of the skull. Role-playing attackers and victims are responsible for protecting themselves at all times. Training with that assumption ensures an additional element of safety. The most dangerous partners are newbies because they don’t understand how serious training injuries can be. They get amped up because they’re doing something new and extreme. They’re usually a little (or a lot) intimidated at first. They haven’t developed enough skill to balance their speed of execution with power regulation. They can’t judge distance well enough to trust that they won’t get it wrong, and they don’t know which techniques are safe to throw hard and land on a training partner. Finally, they don’t know when to pull power from a technique or which techniques should be practiced at full power near the target but not on it. Hell, new students can even be dangerous when striking pads. Without the skill or control to fire off full-power elbow strikes and keep them on the pad, they’re bound to skip one off and smack their training partner in the face eventually. We have a saying in firearms training: “Go slow to go fast.” That means you have to fully understand and be competent in executing all the fundamentals of tactical shooting before you can push your personal limits of speed and accuracy. Similarly, if you’re patient in combatives training, you’ll develop your skills more quickly. You’ll ultimately become far more effective and dangerous if you just remember to walk before you try running. By following the ground rules listed here, you’ll give your skills a chance to catch up to your enthusiasm. This is excerpted from Combatives for Street Survival: Hard-Core Countermeasures for High-Risk Situations , by Kelly McCann.

February 28th, Women's boxing takes the world stage as the next generation Shera Mae Patricio (7-0, 3 KOs) will face former WBA female super flyweight world title holder, Maribel Ramirez (15-13-4, 3 KOs) on the All Women's Sports Network available on Amazon Prime, Hulu and DirecTV. There was a time — not long ago — when women weren’t even allowed inside the gym. Before televised headliners. Before sanctioned divisions. Before streaming deals and Saturday night broadcasts. There were women who trained anyway. They trained in borrowed ring time. They fought in exhibitions. They boxed when it wasn’t legal. They stepped between the ropes knowing the real fight wasn’t just across from them — it was the system itself. The rise of women’s combat sports did not begin with television contracts. It began with defiance. The Original Trailblazers: Before Permission Was Granted Long before modern sanctioning bodies took women seriously, Barbara Buttrick  was already fighting professionally. Known as “The Mighty Atom of the Ring”  and “Battling Barbara,”  Buttrick was a pioneer in the truest sense. Competing in Canada and the United States before relocating to Dallas, Texas in 1957, she entered rings that were often hostile to the very idea of female prizefighters. Photo credit WBC By the time she arrived in Texas, Buttrick had fought more than 1,000 bouts against men and logged 18 professional fights against women — staggering numbers even by today’s standards. Her career wasn’t built on novelty; it was built on activity, toughness, and an unapologetic refusal to step aside. She fought because she could. She fought because she would. And in doing so, she carved out space in a sport that did not yet want her there. The License to Fight If Buttrick fought without permission, Marian Trimiar  fought to institutionalize it. Bronx-born and fiercely determined, Trimiar — known as “Lady Tyger”  — compiled a professional record of 14-4, including five knockouts. But her greatest victory may have come outside the ring. Photo Credit WBAN Women's Boxing Sue Fox She became the first woman granted a professional boxing license by the New York State Athletic Commission. That achievement cannot be overstated. For years, women fought in exhibitions because sanctioned bouts were illegal. Trimiar began boxing right out of high school at age 18, stepping into exhibition matches at a time when official recognition simply did not exist. She didn’t just win fights. She helped change policy. In an era when promoters dismissed women’s boxing as unmarketable, Trimiar organized, advocated, and demanded equitable treatment. She represents a critical bridge between the outlaw spirit of earlier pioneers and the sanctioned legitimacy that would follow. Fighting Before It Was Fashionable In the late 1970s — long before films like Million Dollar Baby  made female fighters culturally acceptable — Lilly Rodriguez  was already stepping into combat arenas. Combat sports ran in her blood. She was the daughter of a female wrestler and a boxer. She was the sister of Arnold and Benny Urquidez , the legendary “The Jet.” She later married a kickboxer. Fighting wasn’t a phase — it was family tradition. Photo Credit Rodriguez/Urquidez Family Rodriguez rose to prominence during a time when female participation in full-contact competition was far from normalized. She didn’t benefit from broad media campaigns or mainstream applause. Instead, she competed because martial arts culture — real martial arts culture — has always respected skill above all. These women were not waiting for cultural approval. They were building competence. The Pioneer Era of Modern Kickboxing By the 1980s, athletes like Graciela Casillas  elevated the visibility of women’s full-contact fighting. A six-time world champion, Casillas didn’t just participate — she dominated. But like those before her, she often found herself on cards where women’s bouts were considered side attractions. Her performances eliminated that perception. Technically sharp and strategically disciplined, Casillas proved that women’s fights could be as compelling, skilled, and intense as any men’s division. If Buttrick broke barriers and Trimiar secured licenses, Casillas solidified legitimacy. The 1990s: Skill Meets Spotlight The 1990s brought a new dimension: crossover appeal. Kathy Long , undefeated world champion, transitioned from ring excellence to action film visibility. She represented a shift in perception — female fighters were not just athletes; they were marketable personalities capable of carrying mainstream attention. Tournament competitors like Linda Denley , Christine Bannon and Arlene Limas further strengthened the competitive ecosystem. The depth of talent was undeniable. The skill level was rising. The infrastructure, however, still lagged behind. The Breakthrough Era When Ronda Rousey  entered the Ultimate Fighting Championship , the long-standing narrative that women “couldn’t sell” collapsed. Rousey headlined events. She drove pay-per-view buys. She became a cultural figure. But her moment was not isolated — it was cumulative. It stood on decades of resistance and refinement. Even today the world is wild for women's combat as Netflix announced the match up with Gina Carano. The women of the 1950s fought unofficially. The women of the 1970s fought illegally. The women of the 1980s fought skeptically. The women of the 1990s fought visibly. By the 2010s, they were fighting as main events. The Saturday Night Era Today, the sport enters another phase. With the launch of a fully dedicated women’s boxing series on AWSN TV Network , airing Saturday nights, the model shifts from occasional showcase to consistent platform. This is what sustainability looks like. Not a novelty bout. Not a one-time headline. But a recurring stage built specifically for women’s boxing. The Next Generation: Shera Mae Patricio Among the rising athletes stepping into this spotlight is Shera Mae Patricio . Undefeated and forged in the tough environment of Waianae, Hawaii, Patricio embodies the modern archetype: technically sound, mentally hardened, and fully aware of the lineage behind her opportunity. Her championship pursuit unfolds in a world fundamentally different from the one Barbara Buttrick entered. Patricio does not have to fight for a license. She does not have to fight for legality. She does not have to fight for airtime. She fights for titles. Legacy in Motion Women’s combat sports were not handed legitimacy. They earned it — through bruised knuckles, denied applications, exhibition bouts, empty purses, and relentless advocacy. From Barbara Buttrick’s thousand-plus battles…To Marian Trimiar securing licensure in New York…To Lilly Rodriguez competing before culture caught up…To Graciela Casillas proving championship caliber…To Kathy Long bringing martial arts to mainstream screens… To Ronda Rousey headlining global events… Each era added another layer of permanence. Today, when the bell rings on Saturday night broadcasts dedicated entirely to women’s boxing, it does so with history in the corners. The women of the past fought for entry. The women of the present fight for dominance. And the next generation — visible, televised, and undefeated — fights for legacy. The evolution is no longer theoretical. It is happening under the light s. AWSN is available around the world. See website - WEBSITE

“Watch the movie Taken! ” were the first words out of my parents’ mouths when I told them about my plans to study in Paris. They weren’t trying to scare me out of going (although my dad might have been); they simply wanted me to understand the dangers a girl faces when living alone in a large foreign city. Being my teenaged and careless self, I blew it off. Time passed, and although my departure was still six months away, my dad insisted on my participation in a self-defense class. I mumbled. I grumbled. I pouted. I didn’t want to go. I could not have cared less about learning how to throw a punch or how to scream “No!” and run away. And I certainly didn’t want to spend five hours learning those things when I could just as easily be watching YouTube videos. But I went. My dad and I arrived at the studio after driving for an eternity. It was hot, and I didn’t want to be there. We were the first ones at the school, and as my dad chatted with the owner about a bunch of martial arts hullabaloo, I amused myself on my phone. I noticed the padded floor — great! That probably meant I’d be expected to perform some kind of self-defense move. One by one, women trickled in until we were six, and my dad took his cue and left. The teachers — Meredith Gold and Mike Belzer — joined us, and before long, we were all sitting cross-legged in a circle. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t thrilled to be mock kicking butt in front of a crowd, but I also wasn’t thrilled to be sitting in a circle, holding hands and singing Kumbaya. But as I had no choice, I listened. And what I heard was actually inspiring. We talked about what we hoped to gain from the class. A point recognized by Meredith was that we all wanted to get a better sense of personal security and strength. She explained how the class would help us obtain those things and that it was a shame that because of our gender, we had to waste an entire day learning how to protect ourselves. She said the class would spend time on the establishment of boundaries. Most conflicts can be avoided, she explained, if we establish clear boundaries. Are you kidding me? This was supposed to be a self-defense class, and we were going to learn how to talk our way out of a potentially problematic situation? I sighed. I whined. I groaned. I rolled my eyes again. Inwardly, of course. Then we began. Meredith outlined the importance of speaking firmly and clearly and meaning what we say. Predators and other evildoers can detect a lack of belief in oneself. Therefore, it’s necessary to set personal boundaries and express those boundaries in a nonconfrontational yet effective way. This can be conveyed via body language: Stand with your feet planted, roughly shoulder-width apart and staggered — this makes physical defence easier, should it be necessary, she said. Shuffling away from the adversary is generally discouraged, although a moderate amount of repositioning is OK. Continually sliding away from a potential attacker can be interpreted as fear, she said, and that’s the opposite of what you want. If the situation escalates, your hands must be in front of your upper body to ward off the attacker, Meredith said. She noted, however, that this protective stance can be assumed without stiff arms and flat palms, which communicate insecurity through overcompensation. A more relaxed state is less confrontational and less likely to infuriate the aggressor. We stood up and practiced. Mike and his assistant donned caps and glasses, posing as shady men. One by one, they would approach us, sometimes saying vulgar things and other times asking for assistance. It was our job to clearly communicate when a decent amount of personal space had been breached and that we’d be happy to assist from a safe distance. We were told not to apologize unless it truly was necessary because an apologetic state conveys vulnerability. Sometimes, the aggressor would grumble, call us names and sulk off. Other times, he’d become frustrated and start yelling. My scenario unfolded like this: A man approached me, excited. He cried out, begging me to help him because someone had been hurt. He inched closer until I put my hands up and said, “Stop!” He halted in his tracks. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked. “Someone is hurt!” I responded with “If there’s been an accident, I can call 911 for you, but I’m staying right here.” With that, he became frustrated: “No! You have to come with me! Right now!” The stress of the situation and the supposed danger made it difficult to say no. Generally speaking, I enjoy helping others, especially those in need. But we must always be skeptical, Meredith said, and in cases like this one, that means offering nothing more than to call 911. Exasperated with my refusal to follow him, the man stomped off. This exercise opened my eyes to the possibility of being attacked in even seemingly normal interactions. For example, when a role-playing opponent approached Meredith in a scenario, he simply asked for the time. She responded, and he crept closer, complimenting her on her watch. Meredith laughed nervously, thanking him. By then it was too late for her to establish a boundary, and he got her in a chokehold. I sat and stared, dumbfounded. Situations like this have happened to me — minus the chokehold, thank goodness. Not once did I even consider that the person could have malicious intentions. I thought about how easy it would have been for those situations to go south and promised myself I’d never let that happen again. The physical aspect of the class came as expected. Growing up with a father who’s worked in the martial arts world forever, I’ve learned a few of the weak spots to target, and Meredith reiterated them: eyes, groin, head (in that order). She had us focus on power. We were taught to use certain body positions to exploit the strength of, let’s face it, our usually smaller and weaker bodies. When gouging the attacker’s eyes, she said, aim for one eye and use all five fingers to really drive it in. When kneeing the groin and the head, she said, use your hips to build momentum for a more resonating blow. Make contact with the lower part of your thigh (just above the kneecap), she said, because it’s a sturdier weapon that results in minimal pain for the defender. The shady men then donned insanely thick padding, complete with a football helmet decked out with even more padding. We were told it was OK to go full out because the men couldn’t feel a thing. Their reactions would be theatrics intended to communicate the effectiveness of our strikes. All right. Cool. We took turns “nailing” them — and were timid at first. Our attacks were often met with a “Harder!” or “HARDER!” until we were all certain the men weren’t getting hurt. Then we really let loose. There was screaming (“No! No! No!”) and kneeing and gouging. It was beautiful. In the heat of the moment, some women forgot the exact routine (eyes, groin, head) but were able to improvise simply because they knew which tools to use. Sweaty and out of breath, we sat back down in a circle. This time, we actually did sing Kumbaya. Only kidding. We discussed what we’d learned — the most surprising things and the most empowering things. For me, it was the power of setting boundaries, something I’d have never even considered a viable option. How could talking stop a man from attacking a woman? Well, like Meredith said, most predators are looking for easy prey. They don’t expect women to be prepared and engaged, so we need to catch them off-guard and deliver the message “Hey buddy, not interested — take it somewhere else.” I walked away with an all-but-lost voice and a better understanding of the power of knowledge and what it means to know that, should a situation turn ugly, I now have a chance. I possess the skills necessary to deal with an unexpected or uncomfortable situation. I have the power: raw power. But I think that, more than anything, I now possess an awareness I never had. I acknowledge that I’m in potential danger at all times, and while paranoia might not be the most enjoyable thing, it’s certainly better than any of the states I could end up in should I be victimized. Wherever I go, I make observations. I look for exits, for helpers, for danger and, yes, for weapons. Wherever I go, I am ready. Wherever I go, I am aware.

Settled among the 48 inhabited Ryukyu Islands is the celebrated birthplace of karate, Okinawa. Many in the world have heard of Okinawa because of karate: whether through watching the Cobra Kai television series, remembering the Karate Kid films of the 1980's, having a family member pass through Okinawa during an army service tour, or being a member of a karate dojo somewhere in the world. The three main styles of karate recognized on Okinawa today are Goju-Ryu, Uechi-Ryu and Shorin-Ryu. Each has a rich history and heritage and are cultural assets to be celebrated by the people of Okinawa and shared with the world. There exists another style of karate that has spread from Okinawa throughout the world, but is dangerously close to becoming extinct except outside of its celebrated home of Okinawa. That style is Isshin-Ryu. Isshin-Ryu is a style of karate unveiled by Shinkichi “Tatsuo” Shimabuku on January 15, 1956. Though Shimabuku was 48 when he unveiled Isshin-Ryu, as early as age 39 he envisioned a system that he felt represented all of the Okinawan karate traditions he had been exposed to in his years of training under several notable masters. By looking at a brief history of Shimabuku’s formal training and the world events during his life, you can get an idea of who he was and his vision of karate training, which resulted in Isshin-Ryu. Born in 1908 (Meiji 41) in Gushikawa Village in present day Uruma City, Shimabuku began his formal martial arts training around 1924 under Choyu Motobu in Motobu Udun-di (the Motobu family martial art). In 1927, he began training under Chotoku Kyan (Chan Miguwa in the Okinawan dialect) at Kyan’s home in Yomitan. During these years, Kyan simply called his art, “Okinawan Kempo,” and didn’t really have an official name for his style. Though Kyan’s students later called what Kyan taught by differing names, Shimabuku called his teacher’s art, “Chan Miguwa-di” (Small-eyed Kyan Hand). Shimabuku trained under Kyan until 1939, when he then traveled to the Philippine Islands for work. It is unclear whether he trained or taught in the Philippines during this time. But, he did return to Okinawa in 1941 and trained briefly with Choyu Motobu’s younger brother, Choki Motobu, in his own personal style called, “Motobu-ryu.” Choki Motobu participated in kakedameshi (an early type of controlled free sparring) and formulated his personal style based upon that experience. With WWII in full swing, Shimabuku was among those Okinawans forced into the civilian labor corps created by the Imperial Japanese Army. This included the project of reinforcing the airfield in Yara Village, Kadena in preparation to defend Okinawa against an Allied attack. All airfields were destroyed on October 10, 1944 by Allied bombs. Thousands of Okinawans — including Shimabuku and his family — were then evacuated to Kyushu and were spared possible death during the Battle of Okinawa (April 1 - June 22, 1945). In late 1946, Shimabuku and his family returned to Okinawa where he worked many jobs to care for his family, including as a tax collector in Kyan Village and performing bo kata at weddings and festivals. During this time, he began teaching karate publicly and became known by the nickname, “Tatsuo” (Dragon Man). He developed his own empty-hand kata called, “Sun nu Su,” which means, “ Father of the Old Man.” This kata’s name was later shortened to, “Sunsu.” In 1947, he trained briefly under Chojun Miyagi, founder of Goju-Ryu, when Miyagi would visit his daughter in neighboring Taba Village. Shimabuku’s karate included a combination of the karate taught to him by his previous teachers. But, he didn’t always agree with his teachers and would alter the movements to reflect his ideas. He changed to a higher stance for better mobility and balance, taught a half-rotation (vertical fist) rather than a full-rotation for punches, and used forearm blocks focusing contact with the forearm muscles, rather than bones. His empty-handed kata included Seisan, Seiunchin, Naihanchi, Wansu, Chinto, Kusanku, Sun nu Su (Sunsu), and Sanchin. The weapons katas included Tukunmi nu Kun (Tokumine no kon) and Chan nu Sai (a short sai kata based upon sai techniques taught by Chotoku Kyan). For beginning students, Shimabuku began with a set of 29 kihon (basic strikes, blocks, kicks, and exercises) to build their fundamentals in preparation for later advanced training. He included makiwara striking and forearm conditioning (kotekitai) for all students. By the late 1950’s, Shimabuku created Kusanku Sai kata, which replaced Chan nu Sai. In 1956, Shimabuku announced his new style of karate and named it, “Isshin-Ryu,” which translates to “Whole-Hearted Method.” In late 1955, he began teaching the US Marines and acquired a contract in March 1958 with the US Marine Corps to teach Isshin-Ryu to Marines to “promote friendship and understanding between two nations.” Photo of Advincula inside the Isshin-Ryu dojo in February 1961, wearing the first Isshin-Ryu patch design. (Photo taken by Ed Johnson.) Arcenio J. Advincula (USMC (Ret)), one of Shimabuku’s early Isshin-Ryu students, helped facilitate creation of the Isshin-Ryu patch. The first design was printed in January 1961 at a print shop that is still in business today on Chuo Park Avenue, Okinawa City, near Kadena Air Base. There were several early misunderstandings due to the language barrier between Advincula and the print shop, but, later revisions were fundamentally the same as the original patch. The foundation of the original patch began with the shape of the patch resembling a vertical fist. The first batch was intended to be the “fist shape” found in later patches, but a miscommunication with the patch maker resulted in a shape resembling the thumb on the side of the fist instead of the thumb on the top of the first. The shape is bordered in gold to indicate that karate should be cherished and valued. Though the border was intended to be metallic gold in color, the first batch of the original 1961 patches were made with orange thread simply due to the language barrier between Advincula and the patch maker. Later versions made in the United States by Advincula included gold thread. Inside the patch is a replica of the megami (goddess) painting that hung in Shimabuku’s dojo. Picture of original 1961 patch. (Provided by Andy Sloane) The goddess upper body is female and represents gentle/yielding, while the lower body is a dragon, symbolizing fierce/hard. One hand of the goddess is open in a peaceful manner, while the other is closed to symbolize strength. The three stars on the patch collectively symbolize Shimabuku’s three primary karate influences: Chotoku Kyan, Choki Motobu, and Chojun Miyagi. The kanji begins at the top and reads, ”Wholehearted Method Empty Hand” The dragon flying overhead symbolizes Isshin-Ryu’s founder, “Tatsuo” (Dragon Man). Continued evolution of Isshin-Ryu was experienced between 1958 and 1960, when Shimabuku trained in kobudo under Shinken Taira. This resulted in Shimabuku’s unique version of Chatan Yara nu Sai (Jp: Kitatani Yara no sai), Urashi nu Kun (Jp: Urasoe no kon), Shishi nu Kun (Jp: Sueyoshi no Kon), and Hamafija nu Tuifa (Jp: Hamahiga no Tonfa) to the Isshin-Ryu curriculum. As the Marines began training in Isshin-Ryu in the 1950’s, they experienced an early version of Isshin-Ryu, possibly missing the additional kobudo changes due to their few years of Isshin-Ryu training before moving to their next duty station away from Okinawa. In those years, Shimabuku would award ranking with the anticipation of a Marine continuing their training. Shimabuku 1961 letter informing the world of the Isshin-Ryu changes, including stripping of dan ranks prior to June 10, 196. (Photo from Andy Sloane) He also wanted to expand Isshin-Ryu into the United States and would award high dan rank. Unfortunately, there were some that didn’t continue their training, yet accepted an advanced rank, prematurely. Shimabuku received a lot of grief from the karate community for doing this. In response, Shimabuku issued a letter stripping the rank of anyone granted dan rank before 1961. Shimabuku visited the United States twice, 1964 (early September-late November) and October 1966 to January 1967, and was witness to his style’s expansion into the U.S. by his former Marine Corps students. Shimabuku retired from teaching in 1972 and appointed his oldest son, Kichiro, as successor. Shinkichi Shimabuku died on May 30, 1975 of a stroke. Kichiro Shimabuku remains as the current headmaster of Isshin-Ryu karate and continues to teach at his dojo at 2-1-3 Kinaka, Uruma City, Okinawa. A second Isshin-Ryu dojo led by Tsuyoshi Uechi is found in Misato, Okinawa City. 6-16-6 Misato, Okinawa City, Okinawa. Isshin-ryu World Karate Association dojo of Kichiro Shimabuku (Kinaka, Uruma City) - 29 Mar 2023 (Photo by Andy Sloane) Andy Sloane has been an Isshin-Ryu student for thirty years, nearly thirteen of which have been on Okinawa. Sloane sensei began his training under Harvey Kennedy in 1993. In 2000 as a new Isshin-Ryu 1st dan, he became a student of Ed Johnson, a first-generation student of Shinkichi Shimabuku in Fort Worth, Texas. Being more curious than most students, Sloane sensei became an avid historian for Isshin-Ryu and has met and/or interviewed over 40 of Shimabuku’s original students. A 19-year Navy veteran, he has taken the opportunity to lead classes and demonstrate Isshin-Ryu wherever he is stationed. Except for a 2-year assignment (2012-2014) to Korea, he has taught at various locations on Okinawa from 2008-2023, including White Beach Naval Installation, Marine Corps Base Camp Foster, and Kadena Air Base. In addition, he spent 10 years as the primary assistant to Tsuyoshi Uechi at the Marine Corps Base Camp Foster dojo on Okinawa and served as the administrative assistant for Uechi’s Isshin-Ryu Okinawa Traditional Karate-do Association. In 2020, Sloane sensei was awarded a commission as a Kentucky Colonel, the highest civilian honor bestowed by the Governor of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, due to his many years of volunteer service teaching Isshin-Ryu. He currently resides at Marine Corp Air Station Iwakuni in Japan with his wife while he completes his last assignment before retirement. Sloane sensei plans to retire to Longview, Texas. I had the opportunity to visit with Sloane sensei during his last few weeks in Okinawa in 2023 before deploying to his next Navy assignment. He provided the information for this article and generously offered his time to discuss Isshin-Ryu and to demonstrate some of Isshin-Ryu’s unique training aspects. Sloane sensei likes to help people understand the system of Isshin-Ryu and plans to teach classes at his next duty station at Naval Air Station Lemoore in Kings County, California. “Isshin-Ryu is just as important of a style as the three main styles of karate on Okinawa,” says Sloane sensei. “Unfortunately, there are only two Isshin-Ryu dojos remaining here,” he says about Okinawa. “I will continue to teach and spread the teachings of Isshin-Ryu wherever I go. But I’m afraid it may become extinct as a style on Okinawa within the next generation.” On March 24, 2023 at Risner Gym on Kadena Air Base, Sloane sensei tested Technical Sergeant Ben Miller to 1st dan black belt in Isshin-Ryu. Among the witnesses to the exam were Patrick McCarthy (9th dan, Koryu Uchinadi), Scot Mertz (8th dan, Goju-Ryu), John Lohde (8th dan, Sukunaihayashi-Ryu), Dan Antonsen (8th dan, Meibukan Goju-Ryu), Pam Darty (7th dan, Sukunaihayashi-Ryu), Robert McLain (7th dan, Chayon-Ryu/Shizen-Ryu), and Josh Simmers (5th dan, Okinawa Kenpo). While Sloane sensei has promoted four prior students to black belt over the years, Sergeant Miller was the first to start as a white belt and complete his 2 ½ year journey to black belt under Sloane sensei. Sergeant Miller has since retired from the U.S. Air Force and resides in Scotland. While Okinawa will be losing Sloane sensei as an Isshin-Ryu resource, prospective students and visitors may reach out to the dojos of Kichiro Shimabuku and Tsuyoshi Uechi for Isshin-Ryu instruction on Okinawa. Sloane sensei welcomes correspondence and questions about Isshin-Ryu and may be contacted at: andysloane@hotmail.com .

One champion retained his PFL title and another claimed championship gold as PFL Road to Dubai concluded Saturday at the Coca-Cola Arena, ushering in a new era for the PFL. Usman Nurmagomedov (21-0, 1 NC) once again demonstrated his dominance, remaining the undefeated PFL Lightweight World Champion with a fourth-round submission victory over challenger No. 2-ranked Alfie “The Axe Man” Davis  (20-6-1) in the main event. The No. 1 pound-for-pound fighter in the PFL, Nurmagomedov secured the fifth defense of his 155-pound title, which he originally won in 2022. In the co-main event, No. 2-ranked Ramazan Kuramagomedov  (14-0) became the inaugural PFL Welterweight World Champion with a unanimous decision victory over fellow Russian Shamil Musaev (20-1-1). Kuramagomedov applied relentless forward pressure throughout the fight, using his championship-round experience to dictate the pace and deny No. 1-ranked Musaev any opportunity to settle into a rhythm, a dynamic that ultimately defined the contest. Following the win, Kuramagomedov told Dan Hardy in the PFL cage that he may have sustained a broken arm during the fight and even suggested the possibility of retirement. The Welterweight division was treated to the Lazy King show, as No. 5-ranked Abdoul “Lazy King” Abdouraguimov  (20-1) returned with a victory over Kendly “The Highlander” St. Louis  (11-6), which brings his winning streak to 10 straight victories. Cartwheeling his way to the cage, his creative submission attempts and big strikes kept the American at bay, with the Frenchman picking up the split decision victory. In a Featherweight bout, PFL newcomer Salamat Isbulaev  (10-0) extended his undefeated record in emphatic fashion, maintaining his 100 percent finish rate. The Kazakhstani started cautiously, respecting the power of former champion Jesus Pinedo  (25-8-1), but a takedown and transition into the crucifix position proved decisive. From there, he unleashed a barrage of elbows that forced a TKO stoppage over the Peruvian powerhouse. In the main card opener for PFL Road to Dubai , No. 8-ranked Pouya Rahmani (6-0) once again showed why he is one of the most dangerous heavyweights in the sport, submitting Karl Williams (10-5) with a dominant arm-triangle choke in the second round.   Full PFL Road to Dubai Results: C- Usman Nurmagomedov (21-0, 1 NC) defeated   #2- Alfie Davis  (20-6-1) via submission (arm-triangle choke) at 4:41 of round four - Nurmagomedov retains the PFL Lightweight World Championship #2- Ramazan Kuramagomedov (14-0) defeated #1- Shamil Musaev (20-1-1) via unanimous decision (48-46, 48-46, 48-46) - Kurmagomedov wins the PFL Welterweight World Championship #5- Abdoul Abdouraguimov  (20-1) defeated Kendly St. Louis  (11-6) via split decision (28-29, 30-27, 30-27)  Salamat Isbulaev (10-0) defeated Jesus Pinedo (25-8-1) via TKO 4:57 of round one #8- Pouya Rahmani  (6-0) defeated Karl Williams (10-5) via submission (arm-triangle choke) at 3:44 of round two    Preliminary Card Results: Amru Magomedov  (10-0) defeated Kolton Englund (15-5) via TKO at :37 of round one #3- Taylor Lapilus  (24-4) defeated Kasum Kasumov (16-3) via TKO at :45 of round three #8- Renat Khavalov  (11-0) defeated Edgars Skrivers (17-5) via unanimous decision (30-27, 30-27, 30-27) Makkasharip Zaynukov (18-4) defeated Amin Ayoub (24-6-1) via unanimous decision (30-27, 29-28, 30-27) #5- Denise Kielholtz  (9-5) defeated Antonia Silvaneide (9-5) via unanimous decision (29-28, 30-27, 29-28) #6- Luke Trainer  (10-1) defeated #3- Rob Wilkinson (19-5) via submission (guillotine) at 3:48 of round one Khabib Nabiev  (12-0) defeated Ahmed Sami  (12-5) via TKO at 2:26 of round two Jhony Gregory (10-5) defeated Haider Khan  (10-2) via submission (guillotine) at 1:17 of round one

Former World Champion Johnny Eblen Faces Highly Anticipated PFL Newcomer Bryan Battle in the Main Event Pittsburgh’s Dalton Rosta Meets Former PFL Champion Impa Kasanganay in Middleweight Co-Main Event Complete 12-Bout Card Set for PFL Pittsburgh – Tickets On Sale Now via Ticketmaster The Professional Fighters League (PFL) today announced the full card for PFL Pittsburgh , set for Saturday, March 28 at UPMC Events Center in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Kicking off the main card, No. 9-ranked bantamweight and undefeated Lazaro “The Hunter” Dayron  (9-0-1) of Cuba faces PFL newcomer  Jacob Thrall (15-7-1) of Kansas. Dayron looks to extend his unbeaten run, while Thrall aims to make an immediate impact in his promotional debut. Anchoring the preliminary card is a compelling bantamweight matchup featuring three-time NCAA Division I All-American Bryce Meredith  (7-1), who holds a 71% finish rate. Meredith returns to action following the first loss of his professional career, a setback to Lazaro Dayron last August, and looks to rebound against England’s well-rounded Jack Cartwright  (13-2), a former Cage Warriors Bantamweight Champion coming off a unanimous decision victory over Caolan Loughran. A pivotal lightweight bout will also take place as No. 6-ranked and two-time PFL Lightweight Champion Natan Schulte  (25-5-1) returns to the PFL Cage for the first time in three years. Schulte looks to reassert himself against No. 5-ranked and undefeated Jakub Kaszuba  (15-0), the two-time PFL Europe Lightweight Champion. Kaszuba enters riding the momentum of a unanimous decision win over Sergio Cossio last August. Opening the night, featherweights collide as Pennsylvania’s Ethan Goss (12-8) meets Canada’s Fred Dupras  (9-2). Goss, one of the state’s most accomplished regional standouts, is the first and only double champion in 247 Fighting Championships history, holding both the featherweight and lightweight titles simultaneously. Dupras, a jiu-jitsu standout, owns a 100% submission rate across all nine of his victories, including seven first-round finishes. Additional bouts include No. 9-ranked Masayuki Kikuiri (11-3-1) versus Ernesto Rodriguez (10-1) at welterweight, Robert Watley  (16-3) against Dakota Bush (15-4) at lightweight, and an undefeated women’s flyweight clash between Tatiana Postarnakova  (6-0) and  Elora Dana (8-1). At middleweight, Jarrah Al-Silawi  (21-7) faces Josh Fremd (11-6). The main card airs live in the U.S. on ESPN2 and ESPN Deportes at 10:00 p.m. ET / 7:00 p.m. PT. The preliminary card begins at 7:00 p.m. ET / 4:00 p.m. PT on the ESPN App.   Updated PFL Pittsburgh  Main Card:  UPMC Events Center, Pittsburgh, PA  March 28 | 10 pm ET ESPN2 & ESPN Deportes (US) Middleweight Main Event:  #1- Johnny Eblen  (16-1) vs. #7- Bryan Battle (12-2, 1 NC)  Middleweight Co-Main Event:  #5- Dalton Rosta  (11-2) vs.   #3- Impa Kasanganay  (19-6) Women’s Flyweight Main Card Bout: #8- Ariane Lipski da Silva (17-11) vs. #4- Sumiko Inaba  (8-2) Featherweight Main Card Bout: #8- Alexei Pergande (7-0) vs. #9- Julio Arce  (21-6) Bantamweight Main Card Bout:  #9- Lazaro Dayron  (9-0-1) vs.  Jacob Thrall  (15-7-1)   PFL Pittsburgh  Prelims: March 28 | 7 pm ET ESPN App & ESPN Deportes (US) Bantamweight Bout: Bryce Meredith  (7-1) vs. Jack Cartwright  (13-2)  Lightweight Bout: #6- Natan Schulte  (25-5-1) vs. #5- Jakub Kaszuba  (15-0) Lightweight Bout: Robert Watley (16-3) vs. Dakota Bush  (15-4)  Welterweight Bout: Ernesto Rodriguez  (10-1) vs. #9- Masayuki Kikuiri (11-3-1)  Women's Flyweight Bout: Tatiana Postarnakova (6-0) vs. Elora Dana (8-1)  Middleweight Bout: Josh Fremd (11-6) vs. Jarrah Al Salawi  (21-7) Featherweight Bout: Ethan Goss  (12-8) vs. Fred Dupras (9-2)

ORNED GABRIEL Few figures in American kenpo loom as large as Orned “Chicken” Gabriel , the soft-spoken strategist who helped shape an entire generation of fighters. A 10th-degree black belt  based in San Diego, California , Gabriel built his reputation on crisp technique, disciplined structure, and a teacher’s eye for detail. A former champion  and respected instructor, he went on to found the United Karate Federation , a lineage that continues to influence kenpo schools across the West Coast. Among his many students, none would rise to greater prominence than the fighter who would become synonymous with freestyle dominance: Steve “Nasty” Anderson . STEVEN ANDERSON To speak of the golden age of point fighting without mentioning Steve “Nasty” Anderson  is to overlook one of its defining forces. Anderson, operating out of Ottawa, Canada , famously rejected the pursuit of rank. “I have no rank,” he once said. “People have tried to give me sixth- and seventh-degree black belts, but I never cared.” What he did care about was performance — and in that arena, he became a phenomenon. A four-time WAKO World Champion  and a member of the Black Belt Hall of Fame , Anderson brought speed, swagger, and tactical brilliance to every match. His primary discipline, North American freestyle karate , became the proving ground where his style and persona flourished. And at the beginning of that journey stood one teacher: Orned Gabriel . LEGACY SPOTLIGHT A Master, A Protégé, and a Turning Point in American Karate The Gabriel-Anderson connection is more than a student–teacher pairing — it represents a pivotal moment in the evolution of modern sport karate. Gabriel came from a world where kenpo was sharp, direct, and structured. His focus on timing, distancing, and economy of motion laid the foundation for fighters who understood not just how to strike, but then Anderson took those lessons and rewrote the tempo of the game. With blistering speed and an unmistakable presence, “Nasty” embodied the rise of the freestyle era, turning point fighting into a spectacle. Their legacies remain intertwined:  Gabriel , the architect.  Anderson , the executioner. Both forever etched into the lineage of American martial arts.