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.
