Perception

I would like to let you in on a secret about most men, at least, most men that I know. We learn from a young age how to look at another dude and assess whether or not we can beat him in a fight. It happened for me the first time on the playground in fifth grade when some kid with greasy hair pushed me down for reasons I can’t remember. But as I looked up from fear and embarrassment I already decided it would not be in my best interest to fight back. Surely, I’d lose.

Most men won’t share this with you, but we think about this a lot. We size up other guys who walk into a classroom, a boardroom or a bar and we do some quick calculations…”Hmmm, dude obviously works out and lifts heavy weights, but he’s probably slow.” “That guy looks pretty tough, probably been in some fights. Gonna keep my distance.” “Well, that guy is pretty short and doesn’t look strong…not a threat to me.”

The habit of measuring ourselves against real or imagined threats follows us throughout our lives personally and professionally until we finally reach a point when we don’t care anymore, typically when we’re really old or dead.

It might come from somewhere deep in our DNA when we were all still out hunting mammoths and fighting for daily survival, but I’m willing to bet that if you get the typical male a little drunk he will admit to this in some way. This is not the same thing as the need for a combat vet or police officer (for example) to always sit in a restaurant where he can see the door. On the contrary, this is part of the constant measuring we do from the time we’re little boys, a built-in defense mechanism of sorts that is often distorted.

In my 40 years of martial arts training, I’ve seen a lot of guys miscalculate their own abilities and end up shocked at what they were actually able to do or, more frequently what they were not able to do. I’ve watched plenty of dudes make threats with their mouths that their bodies and lack of skill could not back up. That’s one of the reasons why you should always listen more than you talk, but I digress.

At one point I shared a dojo with a good friend of mine. We were both active duty and we had a lot of respect for each other, but my friend Jon was a lot more tolerant of arrogant fighters than I was. Like many schools at that time, we had designated “fight nights” when people from other dojos could come and spar with folks in our place. Kickboxing was still the dominant competitive sparring method of the day. Most of the guys were pretty likable and humble, but there was one arrogant dude that I did not care for. To be honest, part of the reason was that he was a better fighter than me at the time. He had an stunning arsenal of kicks and reach that I simply could not overcome. That would have been ok if he hadn’t been such a jerk. Let’s just say he was not well liked.

Jon and I decided we were going to start having these “practical application” sessions where participants wore street clothes, pushed, shoved and yelled at each other in the same way we’d seen in actual fights. We all had free rein to do just about anything except kick the groin or punch directly in the face. We started with one on one scenarios, then two on one. As you might imagine, most people’s fighting skills quickly disintegrated…especially Mr. Arrogant. Removed from his element and comfort zone, all those flashy kicks and attitude rapidly went by the wayside. It helped that some of the participants were cops who were used to dealing with that type of behavior. For those of us who had experienced an actual confrontation or two, it was kind of nice to see him humbled. But I have been humbled too.

One of the best practitioners of aikido I have ever met was my teacher in Japan. Matsumoto-san was a rather slight man, maybe 140 lbs. He was quiet, affable, and a very strict teacher. He knew little English, but frequently used the phrase, “practice makes perfect” during class. One night after training, myself and another American student were speaking with Matsumoto about how applicable aikido would be in an actual fight. Our contention was that the art had no competitions and was practiced in a very classical, kata-based way. There was not really a chance for us to test our skills. Now, Matsumoto had been training for about 25 years. He too had very strict teachers. His style of aikido was extraordinarily smooth, almost graceful. We nicknamed him, “The Mechanic” because his technique was always on point and flawless.

Matsumoto offered little to our discussion. He listened to us rant and complain about how difficult the art was and how we questioned it’s legitimacy. Then, he challenged me to throw a punch at his face as hard as I could. I looked at my friend who shrugged his shoulders and said, “Go for it.” So I did and ended up on the ground very quickly. With exception to my pride, I wasn’t hurt. Matsumoto simply walked over to his car and drove away. No further explanation needed.

I have tried to pass this lesson on to my sons and my students: never overestimate your own abilities and never underestimate another person. You don't know what you’re capable of until you put yourself to the test. And, you never know where someone else has been.

Food for thought.

Dave Magliano

Tatsu Dojo

Jissenkan Budo

Dojo Cho