Seven Words Of Hope

18 June, 2020

Friday, the thirteenth of March of this year was the last time my son and I were in our respective middle schools. He’s in sixth grade and I teach seventh grade Health as well as sixth and eighth grade Physical Education.  My son’s school decided to close due to the coronavirus epidemic on the preceding Wednesday or Thursday, announcing a half day for all students and instructing them to bring home their books and such. My school district made a similar announcement on the Thursday and Friday was a half-day for the students and a full day for staff to plan what has become the new norm of distance learning. 

With three snow days that weren’t used, my district made the first Monday and Tuesday ‘snow days.’ That gave us more time to plan and prepare. As a result, we didn’t begin distance learning until Wednesday, the eighteenth.  My son’s school began on Monday, the sixteenth, but even so we were able to get to the club and play an hour of squash at 7am thanks to a 9am start for distance learning. Before that, we also had our usual Saturday session on the fourteenth. The lockdown/stay-at-home order hadn’t yet been declared by our governor and the severity of the coronavirus, the length of our school closures, and the impact on our lives were still unknowns. On Tuesday, things started shutting down and becoming very serious. For those who have suffered greatly – financially, emotionally, physically, the loss of a family member(s) – I offer you my condolences and prayers. Thankfully, my family and I have not suffered too badly although there has been a psychological and emotional toll.

That first Monday was the last time my son went anywhere. Since returning home from our squash session, other than for a couple of drives in the neighborhood, walking the dog, or venturing out for a workout (either a run, some kind of conditioning session on our driveway, a ‘squash’ game at a wall we found that has lots of room and where we can line out a court), he hasn’t left the house.  With the exception of running into a friend driving by and stopping to say hello and the Zoom party we had for his birthday in April, he hasn’t spoken to anyone other than my wife and I. Oh, and the dog. 

So, it was with great excitement when he had to return his school textbooks the other day. He had three – one for Social Studies and two for Language Arts – and I had to drive him to school and drop him off at a designated location. From there, he submitted the downloaded and printed ‘return form’ then, following instructions, he entered the new gymnasium (the one with direct outdoor access). Once inside, he returned his books to the assigned table. Each table was labeled with a different subject and there was a school administrator, office assistant, or PTA volunteer waiting to receive the returned texts. All of this was done with his mask and gloves on and with me waiting in the car. No more than two minutes had elapsed after I’d parked the car, when he was back and opening the door and sliding into the back seat. The book return was organized alphabetically by surname and scheduled blocks of time so it was very quick and easy. 

Other than being another reminder that the school year is ending and the summer break is coming, my son was very excited for this book return event. He joked on the way that he’s actually going somewhere. When he got back into the car, he was ecstatic that he’d gotten to speak to other human beings. They weren’t deep or meaningful conversations by any stretch of the imagination. He said he recognized some of the staff in the gym but none of them seemed to know him the way one of his teachers would have so the exchanges were brief. Nonetheless, he was thrilled. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I asked him how it went. His answer was so special and heartfelt and made me almost pull the car over and hug him as tightly as I could. His reply to my question was, “Seven words.” That’s what he’d said inside the gym. During various steps of the book return process, he’d had to answer two questions and make five affirmations. He said “okay” four times and one time each for his surname, “here” and “no.” From his reaction and the excitement he was displaying, I could’ve cried. You’d have thought he was just named Squash Player of the Year or received some other highly coveted accolade 

I get it, though. We live together, my wife, son and I. Naturally, we are the most important people in each of our lives and we love each other but, after twelve weeks together and 24/7 at that, any change is a wonderful thing. On one of my more recent trips to the supermarket, I had a conversation with a woman in the checkout line. Our grocery store has regular cashier checkouts as well as newly installed self-checkout machines. With social distancing, customers form a line and get called up when a cashier is open. She asked me if the line I was in was for self-checkouts or just the regular checkouts. I told her I wasn’t sure. Another customer knew the answer and told her (it’s the same line). After that, masks on, we had a chat about our previous supermarket trips and how there was no line, not many customers, and how the relative crowd on this day was probably due to the upcoming Memorial Day holiday. Eventually, using the self-checkout, she was called up ahead of me and went about her business. I’ll likely never see her again. Honestly, I wouldn’t be able to point her out if I did. I doubt she would recognize me either. 

The brief chat, as meaningless as it appeared to be, was actually one of the highlights of that day and, perhaps, even of this lockdown. I’ve always been a loner. I don’t have many friends and I don’t socialize much but I do understand and appreciate the need for and value of human contact. In these dark times, positive human interaction is like striking gold. Without it, there’s the potential for conditions like loneliness, sadness, and depression to develop. So, for my son to be totally overjoyed at having had seven brief conversations, each with him only having to say just a solitary word, I am overjoyed and grateful. I’m happy that he had some additional human contact and that he cherishes it, whether he realizes it or not. I’m thankful that the school had the students bring the books back and not just the parents. Kids are vulnerable. So, too, are adults. We all need human interaction. We all need to feel connected – to one another and the larger world around us. In a small way, my chat in the supermarket and my son’s seven words connected us to our community and made us feel a part of something. 

In pre-coronavirus life, these kinds of interactions would’ve been nothing more than an encounter with another person and not likely be thought about ever again. With the isolation and distancing, much needed to help combat against this pandemic, and which I think are still needed, these brief encounters become so much more.  In these dire times, more so than ever, we need that sense of connectedness and community. Seeing his school and stepping in it, gave my son a bit of that. It, also, offered him a glimpse of hope and a return to some kind of normalcy; that there is a world out there and that there is a life after COVID, after crisis. Who knows if we’ll get back to the normal we used to know. Maybe we shouldn’t and we need to create a new and better normal. Either way, we need hope and hope can come in the form of a place, a person or even a single word. 

Cheeky Drop Shot

 Cheeky Drop Shot 

- A Hacker’s Account Of A Weeklong Squash Camp That Gives Back 

 

When I was in my late twenties to early thirties, I ran a lot. I ran 5Ks, 10Ks, 5 milers, Turkey Trotruns, half-marathons, and marathons. For a back-of-the-packer, I had a 5K PR of 21:21. I’m told that’s not too shabby. In a single mile rub, I pulled off a 6:50. Another thing I heard a lot when I was a ‘serious amateur’ (an issue of Runner’s Worldthat came out sometime around 1998 or 1999 had an article about running identities and I fell in the ‘serious amateur’ classification) was that one of the glories of running a marathon, especially one of the big ones, is that you get to say you’ve competed against and with some of the world’s best on the the exact same course in the same conditions. 

 

In the course of one’s life, it’s not likely that you’ll ever play with or against your favourite athlete or any other top athlete unless you’ve won a lottery or, through some kind of corporate connection for charity, find yourself in a fundraising game or something of the like. That changed for me on a few nights ago on 24 June 2019.  

 

I’ve been playing squash on-and-off since I was first introduced to it in the early 1980s. I was still living in Hong Kong and I was attending Island School. Next to the school was a squash facility that, at the time, might have been the base of the Hong Kong Squash Racquets Association. Squash was part of our Physical Education program and I started playing after school and at break times with my friends. When I moved to the United States, there weren’t courts around so I stopped playing for a couple of years until I went to university at Rutgers. There, I made friends with one of my Economics students, fellow Asian from Singapore. He introduced me to the Rutgers Squash Club. The club met every Friday and we played. At one point, a team was formed and we played a hardball match against Steven’s Tech. I don’t recall the outcome of the match (I think we won) but I did horribly. In my defense, it was the first and only time I’ve played a hardball match.  Moving ahead twenty-five years, I discovered Lifetime Fitness, a nationwide facility that its squash friendly. The two locations near where I live have four courts each and it was the sound of a softball squash ball hitting the front wall that convinced me to join. Since then, I’ve been playing regularly and I’ve introduced my son to the sport. He wants to go pro and that has brought my story back around to the present. 

 

As part of the squash programming at Lifetime, where my son takes group and private lessons and competes as a member of the Lifetime Squash Team, there was a weeklong camp with James Willstrop coaching the first two days and Miguel Angel Rodriguez leading the rest of the week. Willstrop is a former world number one and is currently ranked at nineteen. Rodriguez is currently ranked at number nine and both have won some of the sport’s most coveted titles. My son is enrolled in the camp but there were also adult clinics being run. 

 

On the first night, Willstrop ran an intense 90-minute session. There were twelve adults and we were split into groups of three based on our skill level. We did game-like drills that forced us to focus on specific skills or situations and Willstrop rotated between the courts and assessed and gave pointers. I’ve met and spoken with some squash pros before this and I mean more than “Can I have your autograph?” or “Can we get a picture?” I’ve had chats with Tarek Momen (world number three) and his wife, Raneem El Wellily, (current world number one).

I’ve had several chats with Nick Matthew (former world number one and three time world champion). My son has taken Nick’s camp and he will do so again this summer, this time for two weeks. One of those weeks, the camp’s guest head coaches will be Laura Massaro (former world number one and former world champion) and her husband, Danny, with whom I had lunch at last January’s Tournament of Champions at the Nick Matthew Academy reception in New York City. My son and I also had lessons at The Charing Cross Sports Centre in London with Abid Khan, also a PSA-ranked squash pro. The session on 24 June, however, was the first time I had coaching - okay, maybe coaching is pushing it but I can at least say instruction – from a PSA-squash player who had reached the top of the ranking. Reminder, Willstrop is a former number one. 

 

As the evening went on, jumping from one paired or group drill to another, I visibly noticed some improvements in my technique and I felt myself getting better. I grew more consistent with my backhand, remembering to cock my wrist and keep my racquet head up. Willstrop went around and corrected, suggested, and encouraged and it was absolutely brilliant. I could almost feel the new crevices of knowledge and muscle memory forming in my brain. I help coach my son on the squash court and I coach or have coached other sports, I have a Master’s Degree in Coaching and Sports Administration, and I am a Health and Physical Education teacher so grasping sports skills and concepts has always been fairly easy for me and during this clinic it was like Willstrop translated a foreign language into one I can understand. That’s how amazing he is and how simple yet enlightening the drills were. Moreover, with Willstrop being patient, generous, and a gentleman, it wasn’t hard to open my eyes. While my own game was improving, however, it’s really because of my son why all of this is important. He wants to be a pro and he wants to be world champion. Anything I can do to help him achieve that, well, it’s the minimum a father can do. That’s why I signed up for this clinic and the one to follow with Rodriguez.

 

Towards the end of the Willstrop session, I was moved up a court/level and played ‘King of the Court’ with two higher-level players. I was so inspired that I dare say I held my own. When Willstrop joined us, I served from the left box and he hit me with a perfect high and deep rail that I had no chance on. In plopped perfectly into the back right corner and all I could do was swing at it, clipping the glass back wall on my  stroke. The next cycle, again from the left box,  I went with a high and deep lob serve. Even though Willstrop is 6’4”, I felt it was a better option than serving something that he’d just blast into the corner for a trickle boast winner. Willstrop was kind and returned with a high pancake that I pounced on and countered with a drop shot. If I may say so, it was a really good drop but, in real life, I’d never have had the chance to take it and, if I would, I’d never have won it because Willstrop would’ve come up and hit me with crosscourt winner or lob or another drop and make look like the hacker I am. On paper, though, I won a point off a former world number one. Ha ha! There’s no proof, however, except for the eyewitness accounts of the two other guys on the court, Willstrop himself, and my son’s coach. If they don’t corroborate my point, it’ll forever be my Loch Ness. All kidding aside, though, just being on court with Willstrop made me feel like a squash player. 

 

In my fifty years on this planet, I’ve lived on two continents and three countries. I’ve visited numerous other countries and I’ve had a lot of really cool experiences and met some really amazing people. This clinic, however, as a squash player, an amateur squash coach, the father of a squash player, and human being has been one of the best and most meaningful and one of those I will remember vividly however many years I have left on this earth. Most places mainly offer squash programs for kids. Lifetime and its squash staff, Andy and Phil, and Willstrop for his generosity of knowledge, time, and spirit – stepping in for former world number one and former world champion, Gregory Gaultier, who had to withdraw due to injury – and Rodriguez have made it possible for hackers like me and, of course, the elite players at our club, to get this unique experience. For some of us, it may be a once in a lifetime experience. For others, perhaps it opens doors to more and bigger experiences on the squash court. For me, it made me feel like I can be a better player and a better coach to my son. 

 

On the second night, Willstrop had another ninety-minute session in which those who signed up got to play against him. I didn’t stay to watch that but the camp coaches told me all about it the next day and how much of a blast the participants had playing against a former world number one and one of the best to ever play the game. I could only imagine it, looking ahead to night three when I was slated to have a run around with Rodriguez on night three. Rodriguez, nicknamed ‘The Colombian Cannonball,’ had two hours set for the run around. The first hour was reserved for the top players, of which there were three, and the second hour for those a little below. I was in the second group, naturally, and looking at them warm up and having watched some of them play in tournaments and casual club play, I wondered if they ought to be in group one. 

 

As group one played, games to seven in rotation with Rodriguez staying on, I was inspired, amazed at the competitiveness of our club players, and scared as hell. All sorts of scary thought took me over – I’m going to embarrass myself and get laughed off the court, I’m going to have a heart attack, I’m going to blow my knee out again or re-aggravate my ankle. After moments of dread, I resorted to my black belt training and began to breathe. I got on an empty court with my son and hit. 

 

Then it was my turn. I was the last in my group in rotation and, as a result, was the last to play Rodriguez that night, which was probably fitting since I was definitely the weakest of all eight players. As soon as I got on court, all my fears vanished. Rodriguez is a gentleman. He greeted me with a firm handshake, a friendly smile, introduced himself and said “Mui bien.” We did a short knock up then we played. He was gracious and played challenging shots for me and played to my level. I felt like I was my son and he was son’s coach when I watch them on the court. He gave me a let ball when in real life it was a winner. He coached me as we played; telling me when I hit a good shot and when I could still get the ball. On the let, I ran into him –one of my fears of the night; that I would be the one to injure him. Instead, my 5’11” much heavier person was stopped in his tracks by this 5’5” brick wall. In the end, I had two games with him to nine points and, looking back on the videos, both went 9-4. He was kind and made me look better than I am and didn’t make me feel like I didn’t belong. 

 

These two up close experiences with Willstrop and Rodriguez are two I will never forget. As much as I have to thank Lifetime, the coaches, Willstrop, and Rodriguez, I have to thank my son. If he weren’t serious about squash and didn’t want to be a pro, we probably wouldn’t have enrolled in these events. To share these moments with him are priceless. Hearing his voice in the videos cheering me on, the voice of God in a father’s ears. What’s more is to see these pros in a different light. Seeing them on Squash TV or live at the Tournament of Champions is one thing. To see them up close as people is another. Willstrop is open and generous with his time and knowledge. Rodriguez lives in the moment. In the sessions I saw him run on his first day, he was the one who started taking pictures. He pulled out his camera before any us, relishing the experience as much as the campers and adult players did. At two different photo opportunities, both my son and I got to take pictures with his phone. How crazy is that? Would you ever imagine it? I’m an Arsenal fan but can’t ever imagine being in a position to hold, say, Hector Bellerin’s or Alexandre Lacazette’s mobile phone to take pictures of him with his fans and at his request no less. 

 

On night four, Rodriguez played against Faraz Khan, the 122^ndranked PSA player, and Ayush Menon, the number one U19 US boy in exhibition matches. Top-level squash, basically, in my backyard. Can’t beat it. In the first match, Rodriguez bested Menon 2-0 (11-3, 11-3) although Menon showed some good play and was as much an inspiration to the juniors who were watching as Rodriguez was. The next match was an all-pro affair, again played to best-out-of-three, with Khan taking on The Colombian Cannonball. With Menon having already lost, it was up to Khan to try to restore some American and New Jersey pride (both Menon and Khan are from New Jersey). It was tight going in the first game, with both players showing the quality of their professional training and experience, but in the end Rodriguez won the first game 11-7. In the second, Rodriguez was up 10-7 with match ball in hand but Khan regained his poise pulled back to 10-all. With both players exchanging rails on the left wall, Khan attempted to change pace and pulled off a crosscourt drop that hit the tin giving Rodriguez an 11-10 lead and another attempt to serve or the match. He prevailed and won 12-10. 

 

Lifetime and its squash program, it should be noted, didn’t just run these events as an option for parents to send their children in the summer or to boost its squash profile and program. As part of the evening’s festivities, a silent auction was held for an autographed James Willstrop racquet made by Unsquashable and currently unavailable in the United States. A lottery raffle, for $10 a ticket, was also held. The prize was the racquet Willstrop used for the camp. All proceeds, with no money going to any of the players, goes to Street Squash. Street Squash is an organization whose mission is to provide support to inner youth, particularly in Harlem (NY) and Newark (NJ), with resources to succeed. One of those resources is to expose them to as many new experiences as possible and squash is one of those experiences. 

 

Shortly after his arrival, I got to take a picture of Khan with my son and chat with him. He asked about my son and how long he’s been playing. He also asked about my own squash experience. At the end of the event, just as we were leaving, Khan wished my son good luck with his squash pursuits. Just another example of the generosity of spirit and class of the pros Lifetime brings to its members. The coaches have told me that more exciting programs are schedule in the near future with other top players and coaches (I’m not at liberty to say whom they’re trying to bring in) coming in as the featured guests but from the names that were mentioned this squash-playing writer is very excited. Personally, I’d love to see them bring in Nick Matthew, Tarek Momen, Saurav Ghosal, Max Lee, Camille, Serme, Laura Massaro, Amanda Sobhy, and Nicol David; favourites of mine, great players and, from the interactions and conversations I’ve had with some of them, top class individuals.

 

Whatever the effects – immediate or long lasting - this week will have on my son and I, only time will tell. In the meantime, I say thank you. Thank you, Lifetime. Thank you, Andy and Phil. Thank you, James. Thank you, Miguel. At the start of the week, watching the others warm up, I felt like I shouldn’t be there. For the most part, I play in the safe confines of my club early in the morning. I spend some time training my son, duplicating drills he does with Andy and adding some from websites like squashskills.com, then playing a match or two to end the session. Sometimes we play with the scoring rules I grew up with – nine points, you have to serve to score. I like doing this because I believe it teaches my son how to earn a point as opposed to winning points off his opponent’s errors. So, enrolling in adult clinics like the ones with Willstrop and Rodriguez was something out of my usual modus operandi. Filled with excitement and equal amounts of trepidation, at the end of the first night, I felt I’d held my own. I’m no way, suddenly, any kind of top player at my club but I feel more a member of the squash community than I did before and that’s because quality human beings like James, Andy, Phil, and Miguel nurture that community and welcome aging and injured and out-of-shape hackers like me. 

 

Knee Saga

19 June, 2017

KNEE SAGA

I have depressive tendencies.

I haven’t been diagnosed but I’ve read enough to see a lot of the characteristics of a depressive in myself; things like being alone, losing interest in stuff, not wanting to go anywhere or do anything, feelings of hopelessness, to name a few. I also tend to see things darkly. That, however, might just be a practical approach to things. I’d rather prepare for the worst so that I’m ready for it if or when happens – in my mind, it’s more likely when than if. If it doesn’t happen, that’s a bonus.

With the ongoing saga that is my knee, my depressive triggers have resurfaced. I had a follow-up appointment with my ortho last Tuesday and he examined my knee, which was feeling pretty good. During the examination, a sharp pain emanated from within the joint. As the days passed since seeing him, the pain has gotten stronger. (Over the weekend, though, it’s subsided but that’s because I’ve been off my leg for a lot of the time.) My doctor ordered an MRI that I got last Saturday. He also used the word ‘surgery.’ It’d be a 30-minute arthroscopic procedure but with a four to eight week recovery. He said at four weeks I’d be walking again, although not any long distances, and at eight weeks I’d be ‘normal.’ Whatever that means, I’m not entirely sure.

The last few days, my mind and my heart have been in a whirlwind of uncertainty. I coach volleyball. I don’t do a lot of the drills or jumps and runs I put the team through but I do need to be able to instruct and demonstrate. I need to be on my feet on court. I also have a summer job that pays hourly and I need the money. Knee surgery now would impact upon both of these things and not in a positive way. With a four to eight week recovery period, if I got the surgery now, I’d be better by mid-August. There’s plenty of volleyball left to coach and I can continue to prepare for the sixth degree black belt test in December I’m trying to get approved for. Getting the surgery now, however, would also mean no income because I wouldn’t be able to work.  On the flip side, and if the diagnosis isn’t so bad that I have to undergo the surgery now and I can put it off, I could possibly go about my summer as normal and get the surgery after the volleyball season has concluded in November or, maybe, even after the sixth dan test a month later.

Deep down, I know I’ll end up not taking or not being able to take test and that pisses me off and brings me down. I’ll either be laid up recovering, my knee will be in even worse shape, and/or I won’t be prepared. Since I was a kid, there are two things I’ve always wanted to be – a writer and a martial artist. I’ve been both to some level of success. In the 1990s, I managed to sell articles to various martial arts magazines and get paid for them. I’ve published a book and gotten a touch of respect and notoriety because of it. That’s not enough, however. I want to be a working writer. As for the martial arts, I’ve had several good years of training, teaching and competing. I had my own dojang (training hall) twice in my life but, more than that, I’ve tried to live my life and guide my actions according to the warrior ways prescribed by the codes of Bushido, The Samurai and The Hwarang. Even without a dojang now, I try to train at my wife’s dance studio whenever I can and, through my daily actions at work, on the volleyball court and more, I try to live according to what my black belt symbolises. Thankfully, so far, I am able to absorb and accept the situation I am in because of what I’ve learnt and taught as a martial artist.

For now, I’ll use my indomitable spirit and of perseverance to forge ahead and battle this renewed opponent, my knee, and its allies of age, injury and life. Throughout the battle, I hope I make the right decisions on when to get my surgery, if I do actually need it, and my training for the sixth dan test.

Thanks for stopping by.

Making Choice - Life 2 Juan 0

Making Choices - Life 2 Juan 0

2 June, 2017

Last autumn, I reinjured the knee I damaged in 1996. I was doing a lot of running, getting back in shape and training towards earning a guaranteed spot in the 2017 New York City Marathon (NYCM). I’d begun my training the previous April and was in a good groove. As a result of my injury, I had to forego my 2017 NYCM dreams. I followed my doctor’s instructions, did the PT (physical therapy) and slowly my knee was getting better. Before long, I was doing some cardio training (no running) and playing squash. Throughout all of it, I’d do some flexibility training and some light Taekwondo training when I could squeeze it in. I don’t have my own school anymore and I coach volleyball from August to November so finding a time and place wasn’t - and isn’t - always the easiest thing.

Recently, I’d gotten into another good groove. I was training regularly, eating better, and dropping weight. Then I discovered that the Kukkiwon (the world governing body of Taekwondo) will be holding special promotion tests in the United States throughout the year in various locations. One of them is taking place in New Jersey this December. This coming August, I will have met the time requirement to test for my sixth degree black belt and I’m using the test as impetus to up my training; all while monitoring the strength of my knee. I don’t know if my application will be accepted and, depending on my knee, if I’ll even be able to perform. If I am, I hope I am able to perform that deems me worthy in the eyes of the examiners, and my own eyes, to be awarded my sixth dan.

As life would have it, I reaggravated my knee two Sundays ago while mowing the lawn - our uneven, undulating lawn. I maneuvered the lawn mower to turn left but it got caught on one of the bumps and didn’t turn. My knee did, however. All this after completing the Euflexxa treatments my doctor recommended. So, I went back to the doctor, got another cortisone shot and was given a pair of loaner crutches. I’ve stopped using the crutches but I still have a minor limp and there’s still a little stiffness and an occasional shooting pain. I’m hoping in a week or so that the pain and limp will vanish enough that I can get back to some cardio and, eventually, light then regular Taekwondo training.

For now and for the next six months, that’s where my focus has to be. I have to give up squash, which is going to be a killer because I enjoy it, it’s a great workout and it’s my son’s and my ‘thing’ together. Without a school and master to train under, I need these opportunities like the Kukkiwon special promotion test and preparing for it is going to take up much of my extra energy and time. Like the old Chinese adage says, “One has to eat bitter to taste sweet.” It’s a choice I hate having to make but it’s one that has to be made. As much as I love squash and athletic pursuits, Taekwondo is a martial art and martial arts are about life. They’re not just the physical attributes one develops through practicing them. If you’re reading this and you’re someone who knows me well, you know that since 1985 I am and have always been a martial artist before most everything else. You’ll also know that I didn’t get into martial arts training for the physical benefits but for the psychological, spiritual and emotional ones. If I could have a regular place to train, I would be willing to give up almost everything else to train daily even if my knee wasn’t injured. The other option, albeit a forced one, is to choose to hang up my squash racquet and my black belt but that would be completely contrary to what martial arts are all about. Quitting martial arts just because my physical abilities have waned decision would be akin to giving up on who I am and what I’ve believed in the last thirty-two years.

So, while life leads two-nil in our current match, I’m hoping to pull a goal back in December. And after that, who knows? Maybe I’ll find an equalizer and even a winner. In the meantime, trying to see a positive out of all of this, I’m hoping that my predicament can be a lesson my son can learn as well; that one has to make sacrifices and choices that he might won’t like or want to make in order to get what he wants or needs.

Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris

This coming March 10, Chuck Norris will turn seventy-seven. Two Tuesdays ago, I turned forty-eight. Both of us are martial artists, masters even, specializing, or at least, getting our foundation in Korean martial arts. I’m not comparing us. Not by any means. He’s a champion, successful, a legend and pioneer. Me, I’m small fry. But, in a roundabout sort of way, Master Norris has been a part of my martial arts life from the beginning.

I began my formal martial arts training in 1985 when I was training in Shotokan Karate. A friend from school and I went to take a class, a semi-private class, given by a journalist friend of his father. At the dojo was another Hong Kong-based journalist who was a mutual friend of my friend’s father and my father. My friend’s father worked in government publications and my father was (and still is) a journalist. To be completely honest, it wasn’t a class per se. The two men were there to work out. It was a Sunday morning and my friend’s dad’s friend said to just come around and he’ll show us the basics and give us an intro-type workout. With the other man there, a higher-ranking student and, based on his black belt rank, a sensei (master), we got a proper intro to Karate. Although there for his own training, in true black belt fashion, he gave us his time and passed down a little of what he’d been taught. This man won’t likely remember me but when I was younger, even before this impromptu karate class, I’d called this man ‘Uncle Alan.’ Some of you reading will know who this is. Anyway, Uncle Alan showed us attention stance (musubi-dachi), front stance (seisan-dachi) and low block (gedan-uke). He showed us how to travel in seisan-dachi and how to turn. Both me taught us how to bow. From then on, I was hooked. I wanted to be a martial artist.

Around the same time, the summer of 1985, my friend, his cousin and I went to the cinema to watch a Bruce Lee movie. It was The Way Of The Dragon (released in 1972 and in the United States as Return Of The Dragon). This is the one in which he goes to Rome and the one Bruce Lee wrote, starred in, and directed. (You know, I think he might have even produced it too.) It was also Master Norris’s introduction to the world. He played Colt, the American champion for hire. At the end, he and Bruce have an excellent showdown full of skill, respect and honour.

Move on a couple of years and I’m living in The United States and Master Norris has movie after movie coming to a theatre near you. Some of them were Delta Force, Code Of Silence, Missing In Action, Firewalker, Invasion U.S.A., Hero And The Terror, Sidekicks. Then, Walker, Texas Ranger came on TV. I’ve also read his two autobiographies – The Secret Of Inner Strength and Against All Odds. All this time, I was training in Taekwondo, getting my own black belts and opening my first (sadly it failed) dojang. Nonetheless, Master Norris was there. Some years after that, I saw him in an infomercial for the Total Gym^TM. I almost bought it (If it was good enough for him, it’d be good enough for me) but didn’t because there wasn’t space in my flat and I already belonged to a gym. At that time, the late 1990s, I remember being amazed at how fit he still was at almost sixty years old. I remember saying then, “If I could be half as fit as he is now when I am fifty, I’ll be happy.” Sadly, due to a mix of circumstances – not least of which were cumulative moments of weakness and my surrender to depressive thoughts of constant failure – I am less than half as fit as Master Norris was then. And I’m turning fifty in less than two years!

Master Norris has, in more recent years, undergone hip surgery and gotten older, yet he’s still in good shape and he’s still kicking. You might have seen the commercial in which he crescent kicks a saltshaker to the face of a man after that man’s friend tosses the saltshaker to him. He’s also inspired a series of websites listing ‘facts’ about how tough he is based on the characters from his movies. They’re all in good fun and I believe Master Norris was quoted as saying that he was okay with them. Some of my favourites are: “Chuck Norris counted to infinity. Twice.” and “Chuck Norris can hear sign language.” Then there’s, “When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.” I got these from the website http://chucknorrisjokes.linkpress.info/top-100 but there are others.

So, I do still have time to get back my mojo and become the martial artist I should be. But I don’t have a lot of time to get back there by fifty. Time goes by very fast as one gets older. It does for me, anyway.  To be in half as good, or better, shape as Master Norris was in 1998 and get back into being a fulltime martial artist. Those are the goals.

In some ways, I feel like this is my last chance; that if I don’t do this, everything else I shoot for will be missed yet again and I’ll never truly be the best version of me I can be. But if there’s one thing going for me, I’ve never quit anything and I am a martial artist. It’s the source of my power. I can’t fly or read minds and I don’t have x-ray vision. What I do have is a black belt with hours of training. I may not have trained like I used to in a long time but the lessons learnt from all the kicks and punches and falls are longer lasting than the ability to kick, punch and fall.  I’ve learnt fighting spirit, a warrior’s spirit. I’ve developed an indomitable spirit – maybe to the point of stubbornness and delusion – but I have it nonetheless. It may not always win but it’s there. It’s dormant and I have to wake it up. Master Chuck Norris and the examples he has left for me and younger generations of longevity and consistency and being a black belt versus wearing a black belt will be its alarm clock. Thank you, Master Norris. Thank you, Sir.