Note: This is a personal reflection, based on my personal recollection of what happened...so please don't be cross if I've overlooked or understated or misquoted something. Arimashita!Well, I have a good reason for not putting the previous two sessions. Actually, several good reasons. Mainly study (no, I’m serious!), but also because my mind had been preoccupied with the Beginner’s Cup (and the fact that I didn’t record Saturday’s session “-_- ). And now that that’s over with, I can concentrate a bit more on writing.
I’m not going to go into too many technical details – this is going to be mainly a reflection.
It began with warm-up. Or, for those who came a little earlier, mopping the floors (we finally found where they stash the cleaning supplies...mwahahah). Short briefing, during which Sam-sensei taught us about the way real shiai competitors warmed up.
- Do it together, with team captain leading
- Do it full of vigour, so that you’re actually tired but not exhausted.
- The warm-up should be hard enough that your heart reaches up to around 180-200 beats per minutes. Alternatively, you should feel pretty worn-down by that time. I doubt anyone’s really going to care exactly how many beats per minute your heart is...er, beating, unless it’s the medic.
- Do it wisely – conserve just enough energy for the upcoming battles.
With that, we warmed-up...again. Normal routine, then straight into bogu:
- Kirikaeshi (2x)
- Big men, 3 each (2x)
- Big kote-men, 3 each (2x)
- Ai-men, 3 sets (2x)
After that came the big moment; it was time to draw lots to see who’s fighting who. It would start with a preliminary round, followed by a ladder format, i.e. two people fight, winner moves up one stage. There was a bit of a problem with only nine people registered, especially with the ladder format, but was cleared up. The preliminaries would be in groups of three, each person fighting twice. The two fighters with the most wins would move up to the quarter-finals, duke it out with another contestant, then advance up till the finals. The person who lost twice...well, sits out.
A little nerve-wracking, I have to say. Of the nine, only six would move up. Of the six, only four. Of the four, only two. And from the two, to quote those Highlander films, “there can only be one”. If this was a simulation of life-and-death clashes, eight of us would be dead outright, only one person surviving (and possibly just surviving).
So we drew straws. And here are the results
Group 1 – Kevin – Dabao – Clark
Group 2 – Clement – Omar – Awatea
Group 3 – Ann – Amy – Annie
Just my luck. The two people I’ve always been preparing myself for the inevitable crash – my kendo siblings Clem and Awa. It’s quite ironic; the three of us always imagined we’d be pit against each other sooner or later. Now we had the chance to play that out. In our very first shiai, no less. Despite feeling a little anxious, knowing the guys were already dangerous in keiko, I felt quite happy with this coincidence. We would be able to show each other our outmost respect through fighting with all we’ve got, test our strengths and weaknesses, and simply see which one of us will have the drive to go all the way. Plus, we already said we'd fight each other one way or another, so it's already good.
To cut the story short, I wasn’t the one who had the drive. Well, maybe I did, but not as much as Clem or Awa. I did, however, give them both everything I had. For the first time since the jigeiko with that inhumanely fast Japanese sensei during the Winter Camp (see that previous entry), I got that same “it’s a good day to go down fighting” feeling. A few butterflies in the stomach, but the moment we entered the arena, there was no time to feel sick or scared. I promised myself that I wouldn’t hold back. I kept that promise, somehow.
Against Clem, I actually managed to get my first ippon in a shiai. Ever. Funny thing was that I didn’t realise it until I nearly stepped out of bounds. Didn’t even think, just automatically did something and managed to convince the shimpan that I scored a hit. No pride in that immediately after - our scores were tied and I already had a hansoku from stepping out of the arena. About a minute later, I’d lose the match from going one step too far. That’s my big regret. Who knows what the outcome would’ve been had I not hansoku-ed myself out?
Fighting Clem was almost like fighting a mirror image...only one that’s faster and has better reflexes than myself :D I learned from the last few jigeiko that it’s no use to jump around and be too tense (thanks Ruby-senpai and Do-Hun-senpai!), so this is the first time I’ve managed to try to stay calm and maintain my centreline . My timing was a little off, but no worse than usual. The one thing I can clearly remember from this match was that the movements we were both doing now have changed significantly from the ones we did during our shiai at our last session in 2007. We only attacked when we thought we saw openings, and even then we had some vague idea at least of what were aiming to do. That’s also probably why our match didn’t last for long, bar getting penalized for stepping out one too many times. Short, and intense. No nervousness here, come to think of it. Almost too calm, if it weren’t for our kiai every now and then.
Against Awa...well, that’s a completely different. No ippon at all – I think we had the shortest match in the whole tournament. Haha. Two shomen-ari before the first round was even up. One before the first ten seconds were up, actually, if my perception of time isn’t distorted. What surprised me the most, however, was how quickly he could get me. Not just his attack speed, but also the way he could move into his issoku-itto-no-maai without me noticing. All of a sudden I see him lift for an attack, and by then it’s too late for me to counter. Just attack after attack after attack from him. And when I finally attacked, I realised that I projected my attack too early.
Also, I felt a different kind of atmosphere from Awa as we fought. It wasn’t intimidating, but solid. I don’t think I was so much afraid; it was more like being blocked by a brick wall. For that short time, I could see some openings, but was always a second too late before he covered it and went forth. In the end, I simply couldn’t beat him. I don’t recall ever facing that in jigeiko. I mean, I can’t really beat in jigeiko yet either, but this was a completely different feeling. Perhaps that was the psychological manifestation of his will to win? How very anime...my mind blanketed by his overwhelming ki.
What I noticed afterwards from Awa surprised me even more. From the beginning till the end, all his ippon were men cuts. Just simple, small men cuts. Whereas Clem and I (or maybe just myself) tried out kote and men cuts, Awa seemed to focus on making his men cuts more accurate and well-timed. Perhaps that says something about training...is it better to use the one move you know you’re good at all the time, or try to surprise the opponent by using the entire arsenal?
It couldn’t be any more ironic that Clem and Awa would face each other first thing in the quarter-finals. The look on Clem’s face was priceless when he found out, and we had a good laugh. It was as if the three of us are destined to be always facing one another during our kendo lives. And it was an impressive match. Neither of them would back down, but only one would move on. They really went all out for this one, both relentlessly attacking and countering. A truly intense battle. It took almost the whole two rounds before Awa got the winning score – a clean shomen-ari. I had a hunch early on that Awa would be the one who’d win, but the way they both fought made it clear that anything could happen. Clem also had a good chance of winning – he also made many good hits with good timing. It was mostly due to his incomplete zanshin that he didn’t score as well; still, he could have won, if Awa made a mistake somewhere. It’s a pity that they had to fight so early, as it would’ve made a great final match. Epic, in beginner terms. Heheh. I wasn't surprised that Awa would win the whole tournament, and Clem awarded both Smartest Fighter and Most Promising Fighter, the latter award along with Kevin and Ann. Epic, I tell you.
In retrospect, I had gained so much from something that I had almost nothing to lose from. I gained a better understanding of how a shiai works, and how it feels to be in one, if only among my kendo family. I learned more about my 2007 beginner friends through challenging and observing them. I understood a bit more about my own fears and will to win. I was able to show my best friends that I too would take them seriously, even if I couldn’t win against them. And what had I to lose, except the money I paid to register and a good bit of my ego?
There had been a moment, right after my second and final defeat, that I suddenly felt numb. For the first time, possibly in my life, I lost even after trying my best. And I really mean my best – I had no intentions to lose against Awa or Clem, and really wanted to give them a real fight. As I went into seiza and took of my men, I stared into it for a moment. I felt a little sad, with a twinge of regret. Why didn’t I win? Why didn’t I move faster? I certainly didn’t expect to be put out of the fight so soon, yet I’m holding my men in my hands, knowing that I won’t be putting it back on for the rest of the evening. But the shock of defeat was soon washed away, replaced by a content acceptance. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I fought the two people I’ve always seen myself fighting, even got a good hit in once. Better yet, one of them had the chance to go all the way to the finals. I could make up for this defeat next time, even it may take years. In the end, those were both matches I walk away from without any regrets. Well, except for the regret that I won’t be able to join a Beginner’s Cup anymore. To regret and despair now would only hold me back from going up that next stage. Next time, boys, next tournament I’ll try even harder to meet you somewhere further up than just the preliminaries. And perhaps next time, I’ll be a little wiser and be able to give you both a better challenge. Yar.
Overall, everyone did very well, even if there was only one winner/survivor at the end of the day. We all fought to the best of our abilities, some of us to the brink of complete exhaustion. I was surprised at how fiercely Ann, Amy, and Annie fought...looked far more brutal than any of the guys :D Though some matches seemed to favour one fighter, the one who was perceived to be at a disadvantage would still give a serious effort to win. Like Amy going against Awa, but still fighting her hardest. Several senpai commented how our fighting spirit was impressively high for our level, and Sensei was pleased by our performance. That’s already something we can take with pride, regardless of outcome.
From now on, it’s only logical to fight even harder. We’re no longer beginners – the Cup was our rite-of-passing into a wider world of kendo. From here onwards, though we’re still beginners in terms of kendo experience, we’re a bit wiser and more mature than when we first started. Soon we’ll have to look beyond our own club and start meeting our peers from other clubs who will challenge us, sometimes winning and sometimes losing. The first hill has been climbed – the next mountain in a long range of mountains is waiting over just over the plateau.
We have all won, in our own ways. And maybe by losing enough, we’ll start winning more. Until then, though, it's time to train. I'll have the session review as well as the missing session up, hopefully before Monday next week.
Fighto!
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Update: After watching our shiai DVD, I realized a few things. First, I need to be more aggressive. A
lot more aggressive. Second, I need to train my eyes and senses so that I'm not solely dependent on sight to measure maai (which is
extremely dangerous if I'm not fully aware). Third, I need to master the basics. Awa got through solely on his men cuts - perhaps if I focused more on that the rest would start to flow naturally. Fourth, I need to 'let go' of myself like Awa did...focusing to the battle ahead and be reasonably detached from everything else. Now that I think about it, it was a bit unnerving to face someone who was composed. Lastly, I need to learn how to look less comical when I hansoku myself out. That was rather...silly, to say the least. Haha.
The 2007 A beginners, minus a few members -
