A Karate Story Read online

  A KARATE STORY

  Thirty Years in the Making

  Seamus O’Dowd

  © 2016 SEAMUS O’DOWD

  1st edition

  ISBN: 978-1-78301-895-6

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems—without the prior written permission of the author.

  Published by NINTAI PUBLICATIONS

  Printed by CreateSpace

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Author’s Note: do, jutsu or sport?

  Foreword

  Prologue – 30 Years

  1. The beginning

  2. White Belt

  3. Competition

  4. Inspiration

  5. Coloured Belt

  6. Justice

  7. Becoming a Black Belt

  8. Wilderness Years

  9. Shin-Do-Kan

  10. Aikido & Back to College

  11. T’ai Chi

  12. Toronto

  13. Back Home

  14. A Special Year

  15. South Africa 1997

  16. Back Home – Again

  17. 1998 European Championships

  18. Japan at Last

  19. Gasshuku

  20. 3rd Dan

  21. Frustration

  22. Kanazawa Sensei at Seventy

  23. Kanazawa No Bo

  24. George

  25. Bucket List

  26. No Bow

  27. International Championships

  28. Sensei Stan

  29. South Africa 2002

  30. Japan 2002

  31. Christoph

  32. 2004 – London & Scotland

  33. Valdosta

  34. 2007 – Derrick’s funeral

  35. USA

  36. 2008 – Japan

  37. 2008 – Making the DVD

  38. If you build it

  39. Athens

  40. SKIF Bo-Jutsu

  41. Spirit of the Empty Hand

  42. Pink Karate

  43. Simple Pleasures

  44. Teaching Seminars

  45. European Championships 2014

  46. C.W. Nicol

  47. Preparing for 6th Dan

  Afterword

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to acknowledge the assistance of the following people who have helped me along the way, in and out of the dojo.

  My mother (Myra), father (Mattie) and brothers (Brendan, Des and Enda).

  My wife, Nicola – my soulmate.

  My children, Conall, Cliona, Aisling and Alva – my inspiration.

  My first Sensei, Ray Payne, and all at Bandon Karate Club, past and present.

  Kanazawa Soke, all of the SKIF Honbu Dojo instructors, and my many friends in SKIF all over the world.

  Sensei Stan Schmidt, Sensei Dave Friend, and all my friends in the JKA in South Africa and Australia.

  Garry Cashman – my karate brother.

  All my students at Shin-Do-Kan, past and present.

  The members and committee of SKIF Ireland, and especially Kevin Sullivan for all of his help.

  Ruth Callinan and Djinn von Noorden – for their assistance in editing this book.

  DEDICATION

  I started writing this book while taking my turn watching over my father when he was ill. I tried writing some articles for my blog, but my mind kept wandering back to my younger days, so I ended up writing about the past. Before I knew it, I had written a big chunk of this book, and I decided to just keep going.

  I am well aware that there are many people in karate who are far senior to me, and who have had far more interesting experiences than I have. This book was written as a personal account, and if people enjoy reading it then all the better.

  I dedicate this book firstly to my father, Mattie O’Dowd (RIP) – my first hero.

  I dedicate it secondly to my sensei, Kanazawa Hirokazu Soke – my second father.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: DO, JUTSU OR SPORT?

  There is a lot of debate among karate-ka about the differences between sport karate, karate-jutsu and karate-do. Any of the three may be referred to by the common name: karate.

  Sport karate is the participation in tournaments. Sport karate itself is neither good nor bad. Whether it becomes a good or bad experience depends on the attitude of the participant.

  Karate-jutsu is the art of using karate for fighting. It is about ‘effective karate’, and what works in a fight situation.

  Karate-do is the art of using karate as a way of life. It is about developing the individual as a person: to ‘seek perfection of character’.

  For ease of reading, I use ‘karate’ throughout this book. However, I try to primarily study and follow the art of karate-do.

  FOREWORD

  When I first saw that Seamus O’Dowd had written a book I was surprised, because I always think of him as being quite young. Sometimes we lose track of time and the years go by more quickly than we realise. Seamus has now been a student of SKIF for thirty years, and I have known him personally for much of that time. I first visited his dojo in Dublin around twenty years ago, and have visited there many times since. He has trained with me not only in Ireland, but in many other countries too. He also has been to Japan for training for extended periods on more than ten occasions.

  Although I have known Seamus for many years, he has never stopped learning and growing his karate. Many years ago when I first visited Ireland, long before I knew Seamus, I realised Ireland had poor etiquette. I asked Sensei McCarthy, the first Chairman of SKIF Ireland, to work to educate the students in Ireland, and it greatly improved thereafter. Ireland is now a leading country in showing respect and karate etiquette. Seamus clearly understands the values of correct etiquette, and this has helped him in his study of karate, and on his travels to many dojos around the world. He has great knowledge and is always willing to speak and work with karate-ka who want to learn. I do not hesitate to applaud his eagerness and hunger to grow his personal karate, for as we say, a karate-ka should never stop learning.

  When I wrote my autobiography it occurred to me it was not only my story, but also about the people and karate-ka who directly affected me, good and bad. Within this book, I can see how Seamus has also been influenced by people, especially his father, mother and brothers. This I can closely understand too, for family is a strong bond.

  I have said many times that in SKIF, the F stands for family. A Karate Story demonstrates this philosophy very well. Through training in karate, Seamus shows that he has not only friends, but also karate family, all over the world. This is the spirit of SKIF, and is very important. I am always happy when I see my students coming together for tournaments or seminars because I know that every time our bonds of family become stronger. From hard training we learn about humility, loyalty, respect and honour. When we train hard together, these characteristics become the basis for our relationship, and this is what makes us family. I hope that this philosophy will remain a core principle of SKIF for many years to come.

  Seamus has been a help to SKIF and to me personally by promoting an area of budo training that I consider to be important. Training in my Bo-Jutsu system, and also T’ai Chi, will be a benefit for all karate-ka, because these will help students to reach a deeper understanding of karate and my karate system. All martial arts are connected. For this reason, SKIF has included a Bo-Jutsu and T’ai Chi system and grading syllabus for several years and I recommend that all members of SKIF study both Bo-Jutsu and T’ai Chi as part of their karate training.

  I hope that all readers of this book will enjoy it, and will be inspired to train hard
in karate, in order to reap the many benefits detailed in these pages.

  Kanazawa Hirokazu, Soke

  Shotokan Karate-do International Federation

  Japan, 21st November 2015

  PROLOGUE – 30 YEARS

  One day about ten years ago Sensei Ray Payne was enjoying lunch at the bar of his favourite pub. There was only one other customer – an old man sitting at the opposite side of the bar, having a pint. The old man looked at Sensei Ray. ‘Are you still doing that karate stuff?’ he called across the bar.

  ‘I am,’ replied Sensei Ray with a smile. ‘I’ve been practising now for thirty years. I’m still trying to get good!’

  ‘Thirty years and you still don’t know it all?’ said the old man thoughtfully, while taking a sip of his pint. ‘Well, you must be very slow.’

  That dry wit summed up how a lot of people feel about martial artists, and their lack of understanding of what we do and why we do it.

  Thirty years seems like a long time. In many countries it is longer than a ‘life’ sentence in prison. It is longer than an entire career in some professions. And yet, in karate terms we are barely more than beginners after three decades.

  The reason for this is because we don’t do it in order to know it all, or finish it, or master it. It is something that becomes a part of how we live, like eating food and breathing air. It is no more an achievement to me that I have been practising karate for thirty years than that I have been eating food for forty-six years.

  And yet, it is nice to look back over the last thirty years and remember how far I have come, which also helps me realise how far I still have to go.

  1. THE BEGINNING

  I was born in Dublin on 11 August 1969, and lived there for the first few years of my life, but then my family moved to a small town called Bandon, twenty miles west of Cork City, and that is where I grew up.

  I started karate training at the local karate club, but my beginnings were humble, to say the least: actually, I didn’t really want to start at all! This was as a result of my earlier experiences as a child. I am one of four sons. Brendan is the eldest; Des is two years younger; I came along another two years later; and finally Enda was born four years after me.

  I didn’t really like sports as a child. It is only now when I look back that I realise why. Des is an excellent sportsman. He was good at whatever sport or game he played and was always on the first team. Football, hurling, soccer, rugby – you name it. He even played tennis, basketball and badminton, which were considered minority sports where we come from. Being two years younger than him, when he moved up an age group (from under-tens to under-twelves, or under-twelves to under-fourteens), I moved up into his previous group.

  The coaches would look at my name and say, ‘Great, you’re Des’ brother,’ and put me straight on the team. But I am left-handed, and was not as coordinated (or as talented) as Des. Invariably, after a couple of training sessions, or maybe a match, I would be relegated to the subs bench … of the reserve team! So I dropped out of the various sports one by one, and by my mid teens I was no longer involved in any sports at all.

  In the meantime Des decided he wanted to try something a bit different, and convinced Brendan to join the local karate club with him. I used to watch them practising together, but not with any great interest, if I am honest. After a year Des did something unusual for him – he dropped out of the karate club, but Brendan kept going. Actually, Des returned to karate many years later, but for the majority of the timeframe of this book he was not training.

  Without Des to work with, Brendan turned to me. He would often ask me to attack him in some way so that he could practise what they had been doing in class. Of course, as a low grade, his control was not as good as it could have been, so I often got bumps and bruises from these practice sessions.

  When I turned sixteen in August 1985 my mother told me that she was concerned that I was not involved in any sport or club, and encouraged me to join something. Brendan suggested I give karate a try, so I figured I might as well have a go: after all, if he was going to practise on me, I may as well know how to defend against his attacks!

  So when the beginners’ classes started that October I took Des’s old karate-gi and white belt and went down to the training venue. Training was held in an old building called The Allen Institute. When I found the men’s changing room, I became very shy and self-conscious, probably worried that I was not going to live up to the accomplishments of my brothers yet again. I didn’t even know who the instructor was.

  There were three people in the changing room, all chatting as though they knew each other. One of the men turned to me and asked if I was starting the beginners’ classes.

  ‘Yes,’ was my monosyllabic reply. I said nothing more, but started pulling my karate-gi out of the bag. The man spoke again when he saw I had a karate-gi. ‘Have you done karate before?’ He asked me.

  ‘No.’ Again, my shyness restricted conversation. He gave up, and chatted to the others instead. More and more people came into the changing room, and I was glad to be lost in the crowd.

  The Allen Institute had a lot of character. It was an imposing grey building beside the bank of the River Bandon that ran through the heart of the town and gave the town its name. The changing rooms were on the ground floor, but the hall was up a narrow flight of stairs, and it was quite small. There was a rickety trapdoor in the floor near the back of the hall, which all the students tried to avoid, because it was not flush with the rest of the floor and was a bit of a nuisance. People often stubbed their toes on it if they were not careful.

  When we went up the stairs and into the training hall there were over fifty beginners, all eager to become the next Bruce Lee. It was very crowded and noisy. There were a few other guys my age that I had seen around at school, so we got talking together before the class started. I finally began to relax a little.

  ‘Who’s that over there?’ I asked one of them, pointing to the man who had spoken to me in the changing room. My friend laughed. ‘That’s the boss!’ he replied. It turned out that he was Sensei Ray Payne, the instructor at the club. At the time he had just received his 3rd Dan, and already had a great reputation for his karate knowledge and ability.

  I paid my £1 for the training and went down near the back of the class, hoping that he wouldn’t pick on me for being so rude in the changing room. If I could just get through the class, I would be ok. I could always quit afterwards, I reasoned.

  Get through the class? I didn’t get through the warm-up without drawing trouble. All the exercises were strange to me, although I enjoyed them. I found that I was naturally flexible, so the stretches were easier for me than for most of the others. However, near the end of the warm-up we were doing straight-leg stretches – swinging the leg high up in front of us. I was beside the wall, so I put my hand on it for balance as I swung my leg. Big mistake.

  ‘That wall will hold itself up!’ roared Sensei Ray, glaring down the hall towards me.

  I replied with some smart-ass answer, typical of a teenager. It was something like: ‘Are you sure? It looks old to me.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Now he was mad. Everyone turned to look at me.

  ‘Nothing. Sorry,’ I mumbled, wondering why I had ever come and wishing I could disappear through the trapdoor under my feet. Fortunately for me, he let it go and carried on with the class. But he had made his mark. No more than ten minutes into our first-ever karate session, and we all knew that our sensei was not someone to mess with, and no-one in that class ever tried to get cheeky with him again.

  Because there were too many of us for the size of the hall he told us that he would decide by the end of the class who would be allowed to stay, and who would be asked to move to a Saturday morning class, when he taught younger children. At first I figured it wouldn’t matter whether I was given permission to stay or not, because I didn’t think I would be coming back; but as the class progressed I started to really enjoy myself. For the first time in a s
porting activity, I found that being left-handed was not a hindrance but an advantage because we used both sides equally, and my natural flexibility was also useful.

  By the time the class finished I had made friends with several of the guys during partner-work drills, which I later learned were called kumite. We were anxious to know if we would be able to keep training together. All thoughts of quitting had long since left my mind, and I was already looking forward to the next class, hoping that I would be allowed to stay with this group.

  We were lucky. The cut-off age to stay in this class was set at sixteen, and we all just made it into that category. Almost forty of us were allowed to continue training on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. The guys I met in that first class were Greg, Shane, Trevor and Peter, and we were all around the same age. Even though I am the only one still directly involved in karate, I still consider them all friends to this day. Relieved and elated that we had made the grade, we went and changed, and then I snuck back into the hall to watch my brother in the more advanced class.

  I was hooked.

  2. WHITE BELT

  Over the next two years I missed a total of three classes – and felt bad about each one. Every Tuesday and Thursday evening I went training. I also jumped at the chance to attend the rare Friday evening that beginners were invited to the advanced classes.

  Sensei Ray was always strict during training. He was (and still is) an inspirational instructor. His classes moved at a fast pace, and we had no choice but to keep up. Having not been involved in other physical activities for some time, I found it tough going.

  One day, after watching the advanced class that Brendan was in, I asked him when it starts to get easier.

  ‘It doesn’t,’ was his reply.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, panicking a little.

  ‘As you get fitter, the pace and intensity increases, so you’re always kept under pressure.’

  I was disheartened at first. I was finding it very tough. But the more I thought about it, the more stubborn I became, and I decided to see it as a challenge. I began working hard on fitness and strength in my own time. Slowly, my athleticism improved, although my brother was absolutely right – it never gets easy.