16th March 2000:
          Last week Kagawa sensei gave me the nod - my official invitation to become kenshusei (trainee instructor). First I have to take the test and I'm making my way to the brand new purpose built facility only twenty minutes from my house... So close. How great is that? (I later came to think quite the opposite). I haven't been there before, so as I make my way to the dojo I'm looking forward to seeing the new place (God, how could I have been so naive). I'm a little worried about what I will have to do. I know it will be one kata (no problem) and a little kumite...Urrm, that will be a bit tough, as last week Koike sensei gave me a hard time at the dojo, and I'm thinking it was a taster of what's to come... He actually hit me full force in the stomach, (Oh!... Ignorance is bliss!).
          I arrive at Sugamo, and for the very first time I am eagerly strolling the five minute walk to the dojo. This is it! I have finally made it, (Jesus, I'd only just made it to the starting line!). I enter the dojo and all the sensei are there. Asai, Kagawa, Ishimine, Kanayama, Yamaguchi, Koike... And about four I have never seen before... They look tough, though. I give a deep bow and a friendly smile... A bit of an ice-breaker, never fails (I cringe at my stupidity). I'm told to change, and I walk into the locker room and am confronted with a young and fresh looking lad. I give him a hearty 'osu' realising he is Inada, my fellow trainee instructor... My doki! He looks a friendly fellow, and although he is growling, rather than smiling at me, I put it down to nerves... After all we're both going to take this test. I shake his hand and he is reciprocating with a two handed handshake... Umm, that's what I like to see, a healthy respect for his sempai - after all I am one dan higher and five years his senior!
          We're back in the dojo now and the panel of examiners are sitting at the front, awaiting our 'performance.' Asai and Kagawa sensei are flanked by the four unknowns... Ah, it's a good job I gave them all a friendly smile... Best to be on the good side of these guys! I've done my kata, Sochin... No problems. I didn't get any nods of approval, but Inada only did Bassai Dai, and he wasn't too hot at that! So next is kumite. I'm suddenly noticing a change of mood. Asai sensei, who has been looking almost bored until this point, is now looking alert... Like a predator suddenly getting the scent of blood (how right was I?). Okay, first Inada... Here goes... Don't want to give him too much of a hard time... He is my doki, after all... Oh my God! What the hell was that? I'm on the floor, I feel blood trickling down from my nose AND gushing from my bottom lip... How could I have been hit in the nose and the mouth at the same time? He must have fists the size of plates... Mind you, that's presuming it was a punch, it could have been a foot... I didn't really see it. Ishimine sensei comes over and kicks me, telling me to get up and continue... No, no. I'm injured, there's been some sort of mistake. Inada has hit me without using control... That's not allowed... Is it? 'GET UP!' Oh... Sorry... My mistake. Obviously I'm already brain damaged, because without saying a word (like, 'What the hell's going on?'), I'm back on my feet, waiting for more... (Straight out of the 1960's Batman series) BLAM - I'm on the floor again, looking up at the ceiling, thinking, I do Shotokan karate... You know, semi-contact! I hear the word 'Yame'... Oh, thank God, it's all over. I struggle to my feet, bow and begin to walk off... As I do, a guttural Japanese voice commands me to stay. I turn around, and I'm facing Koike sensei. Oh, that's okay. He's my friend, we drink together (My Lord, the naivety!).. WHACK... This just isn't cricket. I'm on the ground again, looking up at Koike sensei, hoping my innocent eyes will induce some compassion in him... CRACK... He's just stamped on my head. He actually brought up his foot and slammed my head into the dojo floor... What the hell is going on here. I hear 'Yame' again, and quickly Koike is replaced by Yamaguchi (gone is the title sensei, as the only thing they are teaching me now is how to bleed). Yamaguchi is just blinding fast and all I remember is at one point Ishimine, who is refereeing this fight (My God, 'refereeing'... That implies we are playing by the rules) grabs the back of my dogi, thus preventing me from going head first over the table where Asai, Kagawa and the four dignitaries are sitting (who, incidentally, haven't batted an eyelid at the grotesque show of violence that is taking place in front of them). Eventually 'Yame' is called again (is there a sweeter word in the English... I mean Japanese language?.. I think not!). I'm virtually dragged to the sidelines, where I am allowed to watch Inada do his two BLOOD-FREE bouts... Why aren't they knocking the living daylights out of him, too? But all I can really think is, 'I'VE JUST FOUND HELL ON EARTH AND IT IS KENSHUSEI.'
          Kenshusei! Usually translated as Instructor's Course, but actually refers to the participant of the course, the trainee instructor. Since its inauguration in 1955, the JKA, and since the split, the JKS too, have had thousands of people enter the course. Out of these thousands only about 100 have successfully passed the course, and out of this 100 only four had been foreigners. For two years I trained relentlessly at the JKS headquarters with sensei and sempai like Asai, Kagawa, Yamaguchi, Kanayama, Ishimine, Koike and of course my doki, Inada (the current 70kg kumite world champion) and in April 2002 became the fifth non-Japanese to successfully complete the course. So as I have been given an almost unique insight into this infamous course, I thought I would try to dispel some of the mystery and myth that surround it.
          Let's start with the training, after all that is what kenshusei is all about, right? Well actually no, it isn't, however, the training is a good place to start... Every weekday the kenshusei (both first and second years) would arrive at the dojo first. The normal morning class started at 10:30am, so arriving an hour beforehand was the best way one reached the dojo before one's sempai. Arriving late was a sure way to bring their wrath upon oneself, something that had to be avoided at all costs.
          One of the senior instructors of the hombu would teach the morning class, and the kenshusei were expected to join in. Before entering the course, I always thought that these classes were really tough. Being taught by a senior sensei and having the kenshusei breathing down my neck was the perfect morning wake-up call. However, once on the course these classes became so easy... Everything, I discovered, is relative. The morning class finished at 11:30am. We had thirty minutes to get ready for shidoin geiko (instructor's training) which started at 12:00pm. Normally the kenshusei were left alone, but if one's sempai felt frisky, or one had stepped out of line during the previous hour... day, week or month, then a sempai would invite you to do jiyu kumite. When doing this jiyu kumite you always had to find the right balance between trying to beat him, without actually hitting him. He could, and did, hit you as hard as he wanted, but control must always be used with one's sempai. Many times I would fail in finding the right balance and would start shidoin geiko covered in blood... My own blood that is. After the warm-ups we would do about one hour of non-stop basics. A hundred gyaku tsuki left and right, a hundred mae geri left and right. Maybe fifty yoko geri left and right, before moving onto normal kihon going up and down the dojo. We never did any 'advanced' combinations, just simple kihon like age uke- gyaku tsuki or mae geri-oi tsuki. Once, halfway through my second year we did soto uke- yoko empi - uraken - gyaku tsuki... It was literally the most interesting combination I had done in years... I smiled for a week!
          Kihon was followed by kumite. We only ever did gohon kumite, jiyu ippon kumite and jiyu kumite. Sometimes we practised kumite drills, especially using rubber tubing for resistance training. However, I never remember doing sanbon or ippon kumite. It was just never taught. Kumite would last for about thirty or forty minutes, and then we would usually finish with kata. Kata training was very basic. The sempai would count and everyone would do it, maybe once slowly and then three or four times, speed and power. I don't ever remember practising bunkai. And that would be the routine. Every day, Monday to Friday. Kenshusei were also expected to help out one's sempai with evening classes, attend weekend technical seminars and compete on a regular basis, so basically we rarely got a rest. Sounds pretty monotonous, doesn't it? Well it was, who said getting good was interesting? We trained full-time, we didn't teach full-time, which I feel a lot of people in the west mistakenly believe to be the same. No, we were expected to put all our energy into training. Learning how to teach was no part of the course... Although nobody told me that before I entered the course! However, to say that was all the course consisted of is a big mistake. Training hard is one thing, but training hard under extreme pressure is a different thing entirely. The kenshusei course is like stretching an elastic band. In order to achieve a permanent change one must stretch the band far beyond the required length, knowing that when it springs back, it will have been lengthened forever. The same thing is done to kenshusei. They are pushed to their extreme, then they are pushed beyond it, and they are pushed until breaking point. It is a cliche to talk about being pushed to one's breaking point, but believe me it is possible. And it would be nice to think that the sensei have a sense of one's limits and push you just to the very edge, however, I don't believe that is so. Being a kenshusei graduate is being part of a very exclusive club. In order to enter the club you not only have to be pushed to one's limits, but those limits must also be as high as everyone around you. For every graduate of the course there are many who have tried and failed. They, too, pushed themselves to the edge, unfortunately most of them were then helped over the edge by their sempai. At the beginning of my second year two new people started the course. Inada and I were ecstatic to have at long last kohai. I was happy as there would be more cannon fodder for my sempai to feed upon. Inada was happy as he had two people who he was allowed to beat up! Our kohai were Doi from Japan and Ricardo from Mexico. The year before Doi had been the captain of Teikyo University (Kagawa sensei's university and current national champions) and had recently been selected for the full all-styles national team. Ricardo was a naive 26-year-old who, after winning everything that Mexico could offer, had been sent by his sensei to Japan to enter the instructors course. Doi was certainly one of the best fighters in Japan and Ricardo was very fast, strong and determined. They had the talent and opportunity to become the best in the world... Ricardo lasted three weeks and Doi lasted 8 weeks. Why? Who knows, I just remember being very jealous of them that they had been able to escape. So how do they push you? I think a perfect illustration of this happened one day in the early summer of 2001. Kagawa sensei had us doing kumite combination training. It was particularly hot (37œC) and as a way to help me acclimatise to training in such extremes Yamaguchi sempai had kindly turned off the air-conditioner (he was so thoughtful). We had been training non-stop for 90 minutes, and I could feel the energy draining quickly from out my feet. We had moved on to kumite drills (kizami tsuki - gyaku tsuki - oi tsuki). Paired up, I had to attack whilst my partner, Doi, stepped back blocking and finishing off with gyaku tsuki full force to my stomach. After a further ten minutes of doing this I was spent, I could barely hold up my arms. Kagawa sensei came and stood behind me, told me to do it again, but this time to do it faster and stronger... I did, but I had no energy, I could barely stand, never mind attack Doi whilst looking convincing. When I finished Kagawa sensei came up to me and without warning hit me full force in the face. I fell like the proverbial sack of spuds and started to see an mixture of stars and blood. I don't remember how hard, but I do recall getting kicked in the ribs whilst I was down, and being told to do it again, but this time with spirit. Now, I hope you're not thinking, 'What a whimp.' Honestly I had given it my all, but still I was faced with two choices: A: Explain to Kagawa sensei in my most polite Japanese that in actual fact that had been my best attempt and, hoping to appeal to his reasonable side, any further attempt would be rather counter-productive... Or B: Get up, dig deep, find some energy and try to knock Doi's teeth down his neck. Fearing the wrath of Kagawa sensei, I chose B... You can always find energy from somewhere when faced with further beatings. I did the drill, achieving my goal of finding more energy, but failing to knock Doi's teeth out (which is good as he only had about three left). Kagawa sensei grunted and then shuffled off, muttering something about foreigners under his breath, leaving me to slowly bleed all down the front of my dogi. It's a nice story, isn't it? And it does have a point. Without that pressure, I would never have found the energy to push myself that little bit further. After that day I always knew that I could do a little more, even when every inch of my body screamed out otherwise. It was this continuous pushing by my sensei and sempai that allowed my karate elastic band to be stretched to the extreme. They knew, once I finished the course, my karate would have been 'stretched' forever.
          Another part of this elastic band theory was the sempai-kohai relationship. It was unbelievably strict. One infringement of the rules would lead to a severe beating... But you only learned the rules by trial and error, no one ever told you. It was like when owners of big dogs say things like, 'It will only bite you if you annoy it'... But then don't tell you what annoys it... For example breathing! Inside and outside the dojo things had to be just so. During training I would find myself in trouble for counting too fast, for counting too slow, for getting the order of the warm-ups wrong, for losing a fight in a competition or for not saying 'osu' fast enough. Outside the dojo I would attract the wrath of my sempai for wearing sunglasses, for not running to open a door or call an elevator or for even misunderstanding a blurted out order in guttural Japanese from a senior who'd had too much to drink. Every discretion would result in a beating.
          On one occasion (I forget my crime) I was being punished with jiyu kumite by Yamaguchi sempai. I knew he was after my blood, as his fists had been whizzing past my face with shocking closeness (they never bothered hitting me in the stomach). Eventually he got through and gave me an enormous smack to my mouth. He actually put two of my lower front teeth through the part of the mouth that joins my lower lip to my chin (does that have a name?.. Maybe lipette!) There was a massive gaping hole after I had unhooked my lip from off my teeth and again my dogi was starting to cover with blood. At times like this there was always a cathartic release. My sempai had got what he wanted and I would clean up the dojo (ie. the blood I had carelessly spilled on the dojo floor) and be allowed to go home. However, on this occasion Yamaguchi sempai wasn't happy. In his bid to knock my head off he had cut his two knuckles on my teeth. He looked at his bloodied hand and then looked at me. 'Scott.' He actually didn't call me Scott, but in the interest of our younger readers...'Do you clean your teeth before you come to the dojo?' 'Yes, sempai.' 'Well, make sure you clean your teeth everyday, as I don't want to get an infection in my hand!' I instantly assured him that I would do as he asked, but at the same time I was thinking. What sort of world do I live in where it is my responsibility to stop my sempai from getting an infection in his hand when hitting my teeth? I never got a satisfactory answer to that one, all I remember was about three weeks later noticing that Yamaguchi sempai's hand still hadn't healed, whilst my lipette had, and I thought to myself 'You see, actually I am stronger than he is, as I heal faster!' It was just one of the ways that I dealt with the stress... I blatantly deluded myself! I also dealt with the daily stress by throwing-up through nerves every morning, developing obsessive compulsive disorder and becoming a functional alcoholic... but that's a whole different article. Something we will leave 'Psychiatrists Weekly' to publish. I don't want to give the impression that I was constantly being beaten up. It felt that way at the time, but no one can ever take such punishment. However, I felt the beatings were like terrorism. The Chinese define terrorism as: kill one - scare a thousand. I'm not saying people have died on the course (that only happens at the Universities), what I am saying is that I never knew when the next beating would come. I had been beaten up before, and I knew I would be again, and it was the not knowing that was the worst part. I was always on edge and it was totally out of my control. The only thing I could do to limit the beating was to train as hard as I could. It was the only power I had, so that is what I did. Therefore, my sempai terrorising me had the desired effect, it made my karate better.
          So was it worth it? I can honestly say that nothing that I went through during the two years was pointless. Maybe my statement before about my sensei not being aware or caring about pushing me beyond my limit was a bit unfair. They did successfully get me through the two years. At times I thought I would never make it, and at times I thought they hoped I would never make it, but I did. The result? I think... No, I hope my karate is better. It has opened up new opportunities that would never have been available to me without doing the course. I am now resident in Ireland, teaching throughout Europe, but more importantly it gave me a sense of how to train, how to improve and how to keep on pushing myself, and that alone makes it worthwhile!


Copyright ¿ Scott Langley, 2002

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