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Tuesday, September 17, 2019

"Stories About My Life," part 1: Ninja Training

While P:S is in editing mode (I wanna make a cocoon/chrysalis pun, but nothing's coming to mind right now), I thought I'd write up a few stories about my life.  These are things that I have wanted to talk about, but haven't really been able to because P:S is written mostly from the perspective of my seventeen-year-old self.  On top of that, I was very mindful of getting doxxed-and-outed before I came out, so I was pretty tight-lipped about my personal life; but I don't need to do that any more, so hooray!

Today's story is one I need to tell as background for some other stories.  I workshopped this one in a storytelling course I took in grad school with a professional storyteller.  He is also an iaido instructor, so with my own martial arts background, we had a lot of fun chats after class.  I keep this story in my back pocket for any time I need to fill ten minutes or want to dangle an incentive in front of some students/patrons.  I'll just say up front that these are all true stories, and obviously certain parts work better when I can demonstrate in person, use tone of voice, and make illustrative gestures.  Anyway:  Enjoy!




A long time ago, I was a freshly-minted physics major at [college name].  One day, I was playing frisbee with some friends on the quad, like you do, when I saw a couple guys come out wearing black gi.  A "gi" is a martial arts uniform, for anyone who doesn't know.  Now, I had never seen a black gi before - I mean, I had in pictures and movies, but never in real life.  They also had a bundle of wooden practice weapons, which I had seen before, but then they started doing these stretches I hadn't ever seen before.  I mean, they did "arm across the chest," and "elbow over the head"; but they also did this one where you stretch out your arm and turn it the wrong way, and another one where you twist your arms up like a pretzel and torque out your own elbow.

So I walked over to them and said, "Hey!  I've never seen stretches like that before.  Do you mind if I ask what martial art you're practicing?"  The scrawny redheaded guy looked up at me from the ground and said, "Ninjutsu."  I said, "What?!  You guys are ninjas?!"  And he said, "Yeah."  So I asked, "Can I train with you?"  And he said, "Yeah.  That's why J and I are out here - part of the way we're paying for college is by selling ninja lessons."

Thus began my three years with the [town name] Bujinkan Dojo.

Now, I need to stress at this point that I am not a ninja, I just have some ninja training.  You're not a ninja until you get your black belt, and I never got mine.  This distinction is lost on my best friend DJ, who is a doctor and ought to know better.  But at the time, he was a shift supervisor at Starbucks to put himself through college, and he'd hang out after work with his barista buddies, and sometimes he'd tell stories about me.  He told me on the phone one day, "Yeah, so I tell stories about you all the time, and now I always start them with, 'My friend D, who is a ninja'," and I stopped him right there and said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa - I am not a ninja, I just have some ninja training."

He said, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, nobody cares."  I said, "Uh, the truth matters, and I care."  And he said, "Well, if it means so much to you, then why don't you come hang out with us some time and you can set the record straight yourself?!"  And I said, "Fine, I think I'll do just that!"  And he said, "Fine, I think I'd like that a lot!"  And I said, "Fine!"  And he said, "Fine!"  And we carried on like that, as best friends do.

Fast forward to Spring Break, and I'm hanging out with DJ and his barista buddies.  We're in someone's mom's backyard, there's a picnic table, and a giant trampoline, and one of those big, bright backyard spotlights for protection against burglars and ninjas.  One of the baristas turns to me and says, "So you're a ninja, right?"  And I said - say it with me, now - "I am not a ninja, I just have some ninja traning."  He said, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, nobody cares.  Can you show us some fancy ninja moves?"

This gave me pause for thought, because the last time someone asked me to show them some fancy ninja moves, it was Thanksgiving and it was my dad.  Now, my dad is no slouch:  when I started taking karate lessons in second grade, I went to his dojo.  He'd go to tournaments on weekends, and he'd come home with trophies.  He's got a box full of them up in his attic somewhere.  So I said, "Sure," and we put on some sweats and went to the Y.  We got a spot on the gymnastics mat, and after some warm-up stretches, I decided to show him a basic technique.

So let's say someone grabs you around the lapel or collar area.  You put up your hands like, "Whoa, buddy!  I don't want any trouble!"  And you slowly lower your hands - then right when you feel your hand brush against theirs, you curl your fingers around and jam them between their thumb and their palm.  There are pressure points in there, but they don't really matter.  Then you kinda peel their hand off and torque out their wrist, and they'll go down like a ton of bricks.  And my dad, dutifully, went down like a ton of bricks.  Screaming.

It was in that precise moment that it occurred to me, for the very first time, that my dad had not been stretching out his wrists like I had been doing for the last few months.  And as I felt and heard the tendons strain and pop in his wrist, I just felt so terrible - because my dad is my hero, and I love him, and I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted to show him some fancy ninja moves!

So I was remembering all that, and I tried to think of something to show these kids that would look cool, but wouldn't put anyone in the hospital because they hadn't been training with me for months.  And I got an idea.

I had us all circle up and clear away any sticks or other junk that could hurt if we fell on it, and I had DJ join me in the center to be my demo partner.  I said, "OK, let's say you get into your standard judo hold with a guy:  you each get one hand on the lapel-collar area, and one on the other elbow, and you're jostling back and forth.  So one time, you take your thumb and hold it like this:  this is called a boshi-ken, it's one of the fourteen fists.  And you just jam it in between his shoulder and his chest.  There are pressure points in here, but they don't really matter.  You just jam it right in, and because of the leverage, the guy will move.  And then he's gonna try to recover his balance, and you just let him - but as he does, you do a few things at the same time:

"First, you slip your hand up under his armpit and behind his shoulder.  Second, you kinda scoot or slide around to get yourself about square against his side.  Third, you bring up your other hand and put them together on his shoulder.  And you do them all in one quick, smooth motion like this.  And then right away, you twist at the hips while you also lever him over with your arms and step around like this, again all at the same time.  And he'll go down on his face in the dirt."

And DJ, dutifully, went down on his face in the dirt.  I said, "That's ganseki nage, the 'rock throw'."  So I showed him this technique a couple more times so he could get the hang of it, and I let him practice it on me a couple times 'til he had it down.  Then I said, "OK, now I'm gonna show you how to get out of it, and what comes next."  So he puts me through ganseki nage again.  But this time, instead of resisting and going down on my face in the dirt, I went with the throw - and slipped out of it into a roll.  I popped back up on my feet and said, "Now, you're not done with me - you still want to get whatever you started this fight for, so you charge."  And DJ, dutifully, charged.

I took a step back and raised my hand, and DJ stopped in his tracks about three feet from me and went, "PLBTHLBTH!"  And everyone was looking like, "What just happened?"  DJ recovered his composure and said, "OK, D - what the heck did you do?"

I said, "All right:  when I rolled out of the throw, I grabbed a handful of grass; and I planned the positioning so the spotlight up there would be shining right in your eyes; and when I popped up and talked, I was stalling until I felt the breeze about to pick up."

He said, "So when I charged, you - yeah.  That was the actual technique you were showing us, wasn't it?"

I said, "Yup.  Welcome to ninja training, buddy."

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