Below is an excerpt from the Martial Views blog, on the topic of fighters as teachers. The full post may be read here.Have you ever noticed that in baseball the team manager wears a baseball
uniform? Now, he never partakes in the game; not to pinch hit or
relieve the losing pitcher towards the end of the game. Aside from his
senior appearance or the fact that he's maybe put on a few pounds over
the years, the baseball manager is decked out like an actual playing
member of the club. How interesting. In his heyday, the manager was
a player with a major league team who typically had a decent record as a
pro. After retiring as a player, he became a manager. It's a well
paying job of course, but now it behooves him to give back to a sport
that has been very generous to him. A good baseball manager possesses
leadership, technical savvy, and when appropriate, wisdom, in order to
guide his players to become a winning team.
In boxing, the coach is typically a
trainer who has had at least some boxing experience, but not necessarily
as a decorated amateur, let alone a prizefighter. Cus D'Amato, one of
the greatest professional boxing coaches of all time, was never himself a
professional boxer. I won't mention names, but some former world
champions who have tried their hand at coaching had less than stellar
results with their protégés. Teaching is not the same thing as doing.
Perhaps mediocrity goes a long way when the disciple becomes the master.
Ah, yes—the master!
This is the word I'm ginning up. Teachers in different categories mean
different things. But in the realm of martial arts, mastery is something
unique. In sports, the coach is a retired player, a player that may or
may not have been an elite exponent of baseball, boxing or whatever.
The martial arts master, however, is not only held as a master instructor, but a master practitioner.
Now this is conjecture, thanks to legends, rumors, kung-fu flicks, and
starry-eyed students delivering sermons on how their karate teacher or
whoever can level ten people at a clip. Manager Tommy LaSorda, though he
could deal with unruly players, umpires, and the not-so-rare
bench-clearing brawl, would be hard pressed to hit one out of the park.
Could trainer Cus D'Amato knock out an opponent in the main event? Of course not, nor would anyone expect him to. But the sensei or sifu is held to a different standard.
The
romantic definition of the martial arts master is their mastery of
multiple domains. This can be fraught with problems: Your sensei is not
your shrink or financial consultant or life coach or buddy. (And while
we're on the subject, I've seen the title of sensei thrown around like it was an "Employee of the Month" award. Being a black belt—in any style— does not automatically confer one to being called sensei.)
Boxing
coach/fighter relationships, however, are replete with stories similar
to genuine mentorships. By their account, some boxers have regarded
their trainers as father figures who guided them away from what likely
would have been a life of crime, drugs, and gang activity culminating in
prison. And these relationships are certainly reciprocal, I'm sure. In a
touching scene from Rocky V (1990), a wizened and wise Mickey Goldmill offers this heartwarming guidance to his disciple:
You know kid, I know how you feel about this fight that's comin' up.
'Cause I was young once, too. And I'll tell you somethin'. Well, if you
wasn't here I probably wouldn't be alive today. The fact that you're
here and doin' as well as you're doin' gives me—what do you call
it—motivization? Huh? To stay alive, 'cause I think that people die
sometimes when they don't wanna live no more.
And nature is smarter than people think. Little by little we lose our
friends, we lose everything. We keep losin' and losin' till we say you
know, 'Oh what the hell am I livin' around here for? I got not reason to
go on.' But with you kid, boy, I got a reason to go on. And I'm gonna
stay alive and I will watch you make good...
...and I'll never leave you until that
happens. 'Cause when I leave you you'll not only know how to fight,
you'll be able to take care of yourself outside the ring too, is that
okay?
Taking
your lessons "outside" is a central precept in traditional martial
arts. When we come to the dojo we leave our hangups and worldly
problems at the door. But we take the good lessons we've gleaned during
dedicated training with us when we leave for the day. In this manner,
karate-do becomes karate as a "way of life."