003.1 Shotokan Karate

I joined a local Shotokan karate (松濤館空手) dōjō (道場) when I was about eleven, although I no longer remember the exact age. Józef Rączka, my sensei (先生), was a friend of my father, who left for the United States around that time. Sensei Rączka’s last name actually means “hand,” or te (手) in Japanese. Back then he held a fourth dan (四段), and today he is a seventh dan master (七段) and one of the most respected European karate judges.

Our sensei (先生) was intense. His kata (形) were beautiful and dynamic, his instruction thoughtful, precise, and ruthless. We repeated each movement until there were puddles of sweat beneath every one of us. He struck our arms, legs, and stomachs to test whether our muscles were tight and our stances firm. We feared him and loved him. Even now, forty years later, I have muscle memory of every stance, punch, and block.

At the same time, I was a competitive sprinter, and my name might still be on the old school gym leaderboard. All that training made Marine Corps boot camp feel easy.

During those years, I learned the etiquette and hundreds of Japanese terms, since all nomenclature in the dōjō (道場) was used strictly in Japanese. I developed a deep appreciation for the culture, and like most boys my age, I loved samurai (侍) films.