As it is with all new interests, there is a steep learning curve in the beginning when one is trying as gracefully (or as in my case, not so gracefully) integrate themselves into their new “hobby”, and judo is proving to be no different. And as I have mentioned already, my “integration” to this new sport apparently, seems to include my waking up with mysterious new injuries.
I give you Exhibit B:
While I don’t rightly remember the moment it happened or anything, nor is it causing me any grief now, it is a reminder that this is a physical sport and these things are going to happen. Sure triathlon is a physical sport too, but no one is trying to knock you off your center of gravity while you do it. Unfortunately though, these new bruises are also a reminder that someone is taking advantage of my flabby old lady arms in order to throw me to the mat so yeah, maybe its time I also reconsider that second helping of Hamburger Helper for dinner, you know what I’m saying? Fortunately, I can more or less explain away this recent injury as a “sex thing” and nobody will be none the wiser as to the developing bat wings under my arms.
Anyway, another thing that I am still learning as part of this whole integration process, is the learning of all the new Japanese terms. Like pseudo-yogi soccer mom’s commonly referring to their stretchy poses by fancy Sanskrit names during yoga, judo people like to talk about whatever it is their doing in another language to, you know, make things extra confusing for the new-comers I guess. I am assuming this can only be to offer them some sort of strategic advantage. Seriously, by the time I’ve clued into whatever it they’re trying to convey to me – i.e. the type throw they’re about to perform on me – my ass is already on the mat.
Here’s how that exchange typically goes:
My partner: “I’m going to do an ‘Ō goshi’ now” (Hip throw)
Me:
Next thing I know …
… I’m counting ceiling tiles and wondering what the hell just happened.
(In case you’re wondering, I’d be the guy in blue.)
I would think the blank expression on my face might tip them off that I am absolutely clueless about what they’re telling me, but apparently “to remain silent is understood to consent” is a big thing for the Japanese because I’m on my clueless ass in about 2.5 nanoseconds each and every time.
At times we do what called “Uchikomi” (Repetition training), the repeated practice of a throwing motion up to the point where the throw would actually be executed (the simulation stops at that point). The other evening for example, our leader (“Sensei”) began counting out our repetitions in Japanese for us to follow along to and I swear, everyone else was almost down at the other end of the mat and nearly done by the time I realized he wasn’t having a grand mal seizure and speaking gibberish.
Now I’m all for “tradition” and all, but … why?
Can’t we just speak English and all just get along?
Why the need to be fancy?
(I’m looking at you too Yoga.)
Where my partner might be trying to confidently forecast to me what his exact intention is to perform on me, all I’m hearing is the creepy backwards talking dwarf from Twin Peaks.
–
As it turns out, I have no problem looking like a total clod in front of everyone when it comes to being laid out like cheap hooker by my 16-year-old step daughter, but appearing as a half wit whenever anyone opens their mouth?
Not so much.
I’m just saying that it might have been helpful if someone would have recommended that I also pick up an English-Japanese dictionary before coming to my first class, that’s all. However if that’s the ‘thing’ to do, I suppose can always enrol myself for a few night courses at the community college and take my bumps in the meantime. So be it. Until then however, everything they say to me inevitably just means something along the lines of “you’re going to end up on your ass”.
What’s Japanese for “Brace yourself, fat boy”?
Some things I’m learning in this integration process are less obvious and more, shall we say, subtle, like that you don’t have to immediately say “thank you” each time someone throws you to the mat successfully. And by “successfully”, I mean they don’t also break you in any way while doing so. I know it’s not necessary, but I cant help myself – it’s %100 impulsive on my part. I get that’s not exactly a ‘gift’ they’re giving me per se, but still, I do feel obligated to express my sincerest appreciation to my partner that my body did not wind up crumpled and crushed like an old box of Saltines. Call me polite; call me obsessive-compulsive; call me a typical over-the-top Canadian, whatever – but the fact that you didn’t end up in a full body cast is worth positively acknowledging someone else for.
That’s all I’m sayin’.
Also, you don’t necessarily need to immediately apologize either if you do something wrong which, in my case, is very fucking often.
All you need to do is bow to one to one another and all is forgiven.
What kind of madness is this?
And seeing how the complete absence of colour on my belt (‘Obi‘) clearly identifies me as an easy target among the other members, it’s good to know that the holding of grudges in judo is frowned upon. So if bowing politely is what enables all that to go down peacefully, then I’m all freakin’ for it.
However, if there’s one Japanese word that strikes particular fear in me, it’s “Randori”, which roughly translates in English to “free practice”. In other words, this is the point in the class where everyone else gets to throw around the new guy like a rag doll. Being among the few new people to the club, as soon as I hear that word – Randori – I begin to break out into a sweat. And not the usual “I’m fat, out of shape and I just spent the last 60 minutes staring into a bright white light near to death” kind of sweat, but more the kind of sweat you get when you agree to, say, agree to go three rounds with Mike Tyson; the “Holy shit, I’m fucked now” kind of sweat. I might be new to judo, but I’m no idiot — I’ve been around the block. I can see the eager glint in the eyes of the all the other more skilled and accomplished members as they begin to circle around me sensing fresh prey, and I immediately begin to feel like the gazelle who’s just mindlessly wandered into an open African plain filled with hungry lions.
What’s the Japanese term for “RUN FOR IT!”?
God help me.
God Help Me! 