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Friday, March 12, 2004

The last official session of club for this quarter was a "free day," basically all sparring. We had three options: stickfighting, kickboxing or grappling. Guess where I was most of the time.

I must've sparred 7 or 8 times. My overall experience was positive. I learned many many things and, I hear tell, helped other people learn some things. There were a few negative aspects. I'll go through them first, but mainly because they happened first.

ITEM ONE - "The horror, the horror..."
I was anxious to try single stick kali fighting again. My anxious partner was -- you guessed it -- SPEAKMAN. I've reached the conclusion that this person is a true menace to himself and others. I realize that he probably doesn't mean to be, but I don't know what his damage is. Does he have something he feels he needs to prove? I don't know, but for someone who's trained kenpo (granted, I'm not sure what level he's reached) he spars like someone who's no more than 1/2 to 3/4 through the colored ranks. His control (both physical and mental) while sparring is close to nil IMO. In fact, this is probably part of the reason that he makes such a terrible uke during training drills.

Anyway, he was my first opponent, natch. To his credit, he landed his fair share of shots. Hard shots. To my credit, I took them all and gave my own back. At the end, he was the one whining like a b!+ch about all the hand shots he took. I said nothing about the ones of his that I took. His fighting stance was absolutely ridiculous. I don't know if my description can do it justice. Picture every non-trained caucasian person you've ever seen with a martial arts weapon in his or her hands doing a schlock imitation of something they saw from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and you have some idea.

With all the shots he got, his stances left him open to repeated bashings with angle 7 attacks. That stuck in his craw a bit: "I couldn't get past all your angle 7s." That's because you kept falling for it like an idiot. If I can land three shots in the same place (his rib cage) in a row, it's not because I was any good. It's because you're the one doing something wrong.

Anyway, what I saw after our round was over was the worst example of sparring gone wrong. I almost blame myself; in fact I would, if not for the fact that SPEAKMAN's an @$$ all by himself. I sort of egged people on about trying kali vs. shillelagh sparring. Of course, he was game for that. He even got his roommate as an opponent. I should've listened to that inner wincing I experienced when I saw SPEAKMAN reach for both padded kali sticks.

I won't go into details, because even the morning after, remembering what I saw ticks me off. Suffice it to say that 1) a friendly sparring match shouldn't take you across the length of the entire workout space and 2) when you obviously have your opponent cornered -- like in the corner of the freaking room, you don't keep wailing away like you got no sense, which is exactly what SPEAKMAN did. The officers saw this, broke it up and spoke to them. I'm not sure what was said, although afterward all the stickfighters got a speech about which techniques we were and weren't able to use for awhile (which I and the GANGSTA OF NEW YORK sort of disregarded for our match -- see below), and I don't blame them.

Feeling a bit responsible, I approached SPEAKMAN and his roomie afterward and, half-serious/half-jokingly (I should've been more stern, maybe) had this exchange:
ME (to SPEAKMAN): Damn, dude... you really gotta CALM DOWN.
SPEAKMAN'S ROOMIE (to SPEAKMAN): You really do, man. You're starting to piss me off.
I stopped because clearly, the tempers involved hadn't quite cooled yet. Well, I went to doing my own thing, which I'll write on about. But SPEAKMAN's story doesn't end there. He gave some kickboxing a try, again with his roommate who's a better man than me. I wouldn't've gone another round unless I intended to hurt him. Anyway, I don't know what happened, but by the end of the night, SPEAKMAN's left shoulder (momentarily dislocated, he says) and right hand (possible broken fingers) were on ice.

I don't relish the fact that he was hurt. No, even he doesn't deserve any of that. But my biggest fear that he didn't learn a damn thing. If he doesn't seem to be learning anything yet from all the times he's managed to hurt himself -- I mean, for pete's sake, I've stepped on his bare feet no less than 5 times -- I really really hope he doesn't have to learn it by hurting someone else.

ITEM TWO - "I'm gonna take this kali stick and I'm gonna whop you on that side of your face... and you want to know something? There's not a damn thing you're gonna be able to do about it."

I had a calmer round of kali sparring with BILLY JACK. I did follow the edict, except for a few times when I just plain forgot, to limit ourselves to the first 5 angles of attack. With some constructive advice from DATU_S, BILLY JACK and I had a decent give-and-take sparring match.

One lesson I learned from this fight and subsequent matches (but really didn't put into practice) was how much success you could have simply by pushing forward. That is, following through with a series of attacks as if to finish, going in for the kill. But, wanting only to soak the bare minimum amount of hits, I resorted to the point-sparring mentality: Go in, peck away, and get out.

Anyway, this match was definitely my best technical fight since I took the time and maintained the mindset necessary to think properly. I got to work the live hand more, as well as follow through with my strikes.

ITEM THREE - East Meets West
I respect the shillelagh a whole lot more. I went a round with the Irish stick/knife officer, the GANGSTA OF NEW YORK. Well, to give him the (further) respect he deserves being an officer of the club, we'll call him DATU_E from now on. We found ourselves going at it pretty well. I know I got to play around with every single angle of attack, except for maybe the 10th one. DATU_E's got like 6" or 7" in height on me, and between that, his reach and his stick, I don't know how I would've gotten any overhead shots in. Anyhow, I learned quite a few lessons on kali vs. shillelagh.

First off, it sucks to fight someone more proficient in the largo range than you are. DATU_E decided to stop using certain long range tactics just out of courtesy. I was fast enough to evade certain strikes, but I couldn't close the distance more than halfway before his stick came back around for a follow-up strike. He got in a lot of hits to my legs at that range -- and not just pegging my lead leg, either. But that was more my fault. I need to combine my elevation with low-line blocking. It cost me many a head shot, let me tell you.

The most successful thing I did there was play with the abaniko. Supposedly, it was one of the things I did that gave DATU_E something to consider. I scored quite a few elbow shots past his lower half of his stick, which is intended to serve as a shield. I'm sure it won't work if I ever have to face him stick-vs.-stick again.

ITEM FOUR - "The Hunted, Part II"
The stick thing had run its course, and I was itching to try knife fighting with the washable Crayola markers that DATU_T brought in. Apparently, the club hadn't done that in a year or so due to some unfortunate incidents -- how the blue hell do you get hit so hard that you're picking felt tip from your gut?

...to be continued. This is getting long.

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