What’s the Point of Karate Anyway?
It’s a question I just asked myself again the other night. Not because I’ve suddenly lost interest in it. Quite the opposite. After all these years, I’m still completely absorbed by it. I still enjoy training, learning, teaching (maybe not so much) and passing on whatever knowledge I’ve managed to collect along the way. But lately I’ve found myself wondering: what happens when there’s nobody who wants what you have to give?
When I was a kid, I had a very simple, but sick fantasy. I wanted a badass dad. One who would actually beat the crap out of my bullies. Not that I couldn’t handle myself, of course. I simply wanted the moral support. The backup. That feeling that somewhere behind me was this terrifyingly capable bloke who would say, “Don’t worry, son. I’ve got you.” I never got that. And perhaps, in some strange way, I became the person and father I am because of the father I wanted but never had.
That explains why, if my kids ever came home and said, “Dad, this person is giving me trouble,” my first instinct would be: “Right. Where do they live?” Yeah yeah I know. After all these years of karate, I still haven't completely incorporated all that peaceful Zen stuff, and probably never will….sorry. I’m working on it…Slowwwly.
Let’s divert for a sec…..You know, eating rice was once a problem. One of the funny things about growing up is realising how much the world changes. Can you imagine being picked on for eating rice? That actually happened. There was a time when things that are completely normal today could make you stand out in the worst possible way. The food you brought to school, the way your family did things, the things you ate, little things that could suddenly make you a target. And now? Sushi is trendy.
People happily pay ridiculous amounts of money for little pieces of raw fish wrapped in seaweed and rice. Funny, isn't it? The things that once made you feel different can eventually become the things everyone else wants. But those little experiences stay with you. You don't necessarily remember every insult or every stupid comment, but you remember the feeling. And perhaps that's another reason karate became so important to me. It wasn't just about learning how to punch, kick or defend myself. It was about becoming someone who didn't feel quite so helpless.
But what happens when your own kids don't wanna do karate? These days, though, I sometimes wonder what the point of it all is. What kid is genuinely interested in karate anymore if there isn't a medal, a trophy, a grading certificate or some shiny piece of plastic waiting at the end of it?
And what happens when your own kids aren't interested? That's the difficult part. Here I am, reasonably confident in what I do - spent decades accumulating knowledge, experience, mistakes, lessons and stories. And yet I look around and think: Who am I going to give all this to? Sure, I have students….students who are old enough to be my parents. But realistically, most of them are probably going to cark it a couple of decades before I do.
That's not exactly a long-term succession plan. And there's something strangely sad about having spent so much of your life learning something, only to realise that the people you most hoped would carry it forward haven’t the slightest interest.
But maybe that's parenting. We spend years imagining what our children will become, only to discover that they are completely uninterested in becoming the people we imagined. So maybe that's the point of karate. Not to create the next generation of fully sic ossssing black belts, but to pass something on to whoever actually wants it. And if nobody does? Well, I'll keep training anyway. I’ve spent enough decades sitting in shiko dachi, it seems a bit late to stop now. And as for my kids? Apparently, they have other passions. How selfish"!
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