The Kickstarter

When my son, Wes, was about 12 years old he decided to learn karate. This decision was a little surprising because Wes was not really interested in sports as a kid. In those days Wes was more interested in sulking around and listening to loud music in his bedroom. His favorite sport was shooting stuff, mostly tin cans, with a .22 rifle or a BB gun.

I worried about Wes in those days because he seemed quietly angry. I assumed his quiet anger was related to the turmoil that his mother and I had created in his life. When he was six years old he watched us co-facilitate an extremely nasty divorce. As part of “the process” we paid lawyers to create a clumsy joint custody agreement and a chaotic back-and-forth schedule that had less to do with Wes’s needs for structure and stability and more to do with his parents’ mutual resentment and distrust. In those turbulent days Wes put up with us and tried not to rock the boat any more than necessary. But I think our foolishness made him angry.

So when Wes decided to learn karate I thought it was probably a good thing. I thought karate lessons might provide a physical way for Wes to express some of the feelings that he was reluctant to verbalize. I signed him up for lessons at the local YMCA and bought a karate uniform for him. He attended karate class two or three evenings a week and appeared to enjoy it. He liked his karate uniform and sometimes wore it around the house. Over a period of a few months Wes earned a yellow belt, then a green one, and then a purple one. 

Sometimes I would watch part of Wes’s karate lesson. The class included about twelve students. They practiced various exercises and drills, and then took turns sparing with each other. The instructor was careful to match sparing partners of similar size and ability and to make sure nobody got hurt. The kids all wore some padding and protective head gear so I was not worried about Wes’s safety until his karate teacher started encouraging the students to enter a tournament.

The karate teacher believed that competing in tournaments was necessary for students to make progress. The tournaments required students to fight with strangers from other karate schools. Wes was ambivalent and resisted for a while but eventually agreed to enter a weekend tournament in Butner, a weird little town about a 30-minute drive from Chapel Hill.

The tournament was on a Saturday morning. On the drive to Butner I could tell that Wes was very nervous. So was I.  I remember thinking, “I wonder why I am paying money to have some other kid kick my kid’s ass.” When we got there and saw the other contestants in his age group warming up our anxiety grew. I hoped that Wes, nor I, would chicken out. 

Wes did not chicken out. In fact, he won his first round match. He won by constantly moving around and playing defense well enough to avoid getting hit with solid punches. A solid punch was worth one point.  A solid kick to the head was worth three points because it was a more difficult move and seldom attempted at this level of competition. So I think everyone in the room was a little surprised when Wes stunned his opponent with a sudden kick to the head toward the end of the match. Three quick points and Wes had won Round 1.

In the second round Wes seemed more confident. He continued to employ his defensive strategy of movement and avoidance while patiently waiting for an opportunity to kick the other kid’s head.  He waited, waited, then bam. He landed another solid kick to the head. Ultimately, he scored six points off of two surprising head kicks and won Round 2 of the tournament. Wes had clearly exceeded his expectations and surprised the hell out of me. I would have been happy to leave immediately and enjoy the moment but there was one more round of competition.

The winner of Round 3 would win the age group and take home an impressive trophy. Wes’s opponent in this round would later win the state championship and have an article written about him in our local newspaper. I had watched him earlier in the tournament. He was quick, coordinated, and talented. Wes did not have a chance.

In the third round Wes’s opponent looked in command from the start but he appeared wary of Wes’s dangerous right foot. The other kid knew he was the better fighter and he was predictably over confident.  When Wes kicked him in the head he appeared even more stunned than the previous two opponents. Wes seemed to realize that kicking head was his only chance so he became more aggressive.  He managed to kick the other guy’s head four times and pull off the upset victory. I could not have been more stunned if someone had suddenly kicked me in the head.

Wes was having a peak experience and I was lucky enough to watch. He could not remain on the floor when he received his trophy. He was literally jumping for joy. The vanquished Round 3 opponent was a good sport. He walked over to shake Wes’s hand. He walked away still shaking his battered head.

On the car trip home Wes did not even try to contain his excitement. He kept repeating, “I won the tournament!” I did not have to say too much because I knew that Wes could sense my pride and respect for what he had accomplished.

The karate tournament was twenty five years ago. Wes is now a highly competent professional, a caring and respectful husband, and an overall good guy. He has become the type of adult that any karate teacher or any parent would be proud of.  I doubt that the karate tournament had much of a role in his character development but I bet he can still kick unsuspecting opponents in the head if necessary.

UPDATE: I wrote this story several years ago. Wes read it and called me to tell me he did not like it so I deleted it. Actually, he said he did not care whether I posted it or not.

Wes told me that he did not like the story because his memory of the karate tournament (and his childhood) is different than mine. He reminded me that the divorce episode was mostly my problem, not his. He suggested that I really needed to give up that ancient bad dream. Wes is a wise person.