“Enoeda Sensei”. You only have to hear the name and you immediately have your own visions and thoughts about a man who personifies Karate. An awesome, dominant, larger than life figure. There are a multitude of stories about Enoeda Sensei. These are just some of my own.
Back in the day, National Squad training would often be held at Long Ford Dojo in Coventry. They would often be presided with a general training session taken by Enoeda Sensei. The first two incidents occurred on the same training session. In those days Enoeda Sensei could be very hands on with students(pre P.C). A good friend of mine had the habit of sticking his tongue out whilst standing in stance during Kata. Sensei told him several times to put his tongue away. Well if you don’t listen you have to learn the hard way. Sensei must have gotten fed up with reminding him so as he was walking past, my friend had his tongue out, Sensei’s hand shot out and grabbed the offending article and gave it a brutal squeeze. My agonised friend went down on one knee whilst whimpering. Sensei shouted at him ” I tell you put tongue away” he then wiped his hand on the lads Gi and just carried on instructing. It was very hard not to laugh at something of that nature, no-body laughed. It was shortly after that incident, while still practicing Kata that Sensei stood in front of me and whilst he was making a correction to my posture, I must have averted my vision and looked down. ‘SLAM’ he hit me hard with the flat of his hand on my forehead. Next thing I know I’m siting on my backside looking up at him. He just walked away saying ” don’t look at floor”. Enoeda Sensei’s lesson’s are learnt the hard way.
A few years later when I had a club of my own, I took several students to an all grades course in Newark. Enoeda Sensei was taking the lesson. I remember it being a hard but good session. Many of my students had never trained under a Japanese Instructor before. They were awestruck. They were all discussing the training afterwards, telling me how impressed and pleased they were. One young lady was telling me that she thought it was brilliant but could not get the weasel breathing right. She asked if this was right and screwed her face up in the imitation of a rodent and started to snuffle through her wrinkled up nose. When I finally managed to contain my laughter, I told her to remember that Enoeda Sensei is Japanese. What he had actually said was ” with your breathing” not weasel breathing.
Fond memories on how the lesson we need to take away is to listen more carefully.
It’s a typical Friday night in Coventry. Friday is lad’s night out and I’m working. I’m a bouncer at a large city nightclub. The club is very busy and the mood is good. I’m in the DJ box chatting to the DJ who is an old mate of mine. The DJ box overlooks the dance floor and is enclosed at the back with a waist high wall, the punters have access between the back of the DJ box and the bar so it is a good place to keep an eye on things only at the moment I’m chatting and not looking. I’m standing with my back to the low wall watching the dance floor talent, ‘as you do’!
All of a sudden my sixth sense kicks in, you know it’s that moment when you know that something is not right or is about to happen. Sure enough as I turn around I spot a guy holding a girl with his left hand around her throat. The girl looks terrified and no wonder because he is lifting a pint pot glass in his right hand. It seems fairly obvious that he is just about to hit her with it.
I will say this about myself in those days I could react in a flash. I just managed to reach across the wall and grab the guys shoulder and give him a sharp yank. As he was in mid swing about to crack the glass over the poor girls head, my sharp action saved the young lady from possible serious injury. Lucky girl. Unlucky me because as I pulled him backwards, he swung around and hit me with the pint pot just above my left eye opening up a large gash.
Because of the low wall I was able to over balance the twat and pull him into a bear hug and flip him over the wall. This stopped him using the glass again and gave me a breathing space. I had blood in my eye as well as being a bit stunned. I knew that I only had to keep him neutralised for a short while before help arrived.
Sure enough within moments a couple of the other lads were there and quickly had hold of him and he was on his way out. At moments like this there are a lot of different things occurring. Girls are screaming and panicking or being nosey; boys are excited and want to get involved. Emotions are running high especially with any of the parties involved.
As for me, many things were going on in my head. There’s blood in my eyes and I can’t see properly. Adrenalin’s on full revs. People are making stupid comments and asking daft questions. Someone has enough sense to try to get me to go to the toilet to get my eye cleaned up. All I want is to get to the bastard before he’s thrown out so that I can punish him for what he intended and what he did. It wasn’t going to be a happy end for him, but he was lucky, by the time that I had gotten to the front doors he was gone. I had no choice but to let them clean my wound.
After washing the blood away I was able to see clearly and the gash was bad but not serious. However I was told to go to A & E for stitches.
A lift was arranged and I presented myself at Hospital. As usual late on Friday night or in my case early Saturday morning, A & E was very busy, so before I registered at the triage I thought I would get some fresh air and calm down.
Whilst standing to the side of the main doors in a dark corner, a sort of beach buggy pulled up with three blokes inside. At first I thought nothing of the buggies arrival until the engine was switched off. I could then hear the conversation clearly. I stayed concealed where I was and listened. The guys in the car were arguing about whether to go into the Hospital to find me or wait till I came out. It seemed like they wanted to try and put things right with me so as not to have to face any later repercussions. Myself and my co workers on the door had quite a reputation and these guys were afraid that retribution would be coming their way.
Concealed where I was and listening in on their chatter, the guy that had just glassed me whilst attempting to glass a girl (who I later found out was an ex girlfriend who he had been stalking) thought that he would be able to get away with an apology – “WRONG”
the three lads got out of the car, I stepped out of the darkness and slapped one of them knocking him off his feet. I told him and the other guy to keep out of it saying that it was to be between me and the main protagonist, only my language was a bit more colourful. They chose to be prudent and backed off. That left the glass wielding bully to face me alone. He immediately started pleading with me that it was all a mistake and he didn’t want any trouble. I wasn’t listening or talking, I was just calculating my opening shot. I fired a right foot reverse round house kick which just caught the side of his jaw so as I stepped in I was in prime position for a takedown. BANG he hit the floor right at my feet, need I say more.
I thought it would be best that I left the Hospital. The twat stayed. I heard that it took him 5 hours before he came round.
I’m not proud of what happened; it just was what it was. Do I think what happened to him was justified? YES. Could I have done things differently? YES in retrospect spectacular head kicks are for films and competitions.
Sometimes in life you are forced to make instant decisions. Choices can be limited but may have a bearing on the rest of yours and others lives.
This happened some 35 years ago. I was very fortunate on many counts. In doing my job I saved a young lady from serious injury. I was lucky I didn’t lose my sight, although I still have a scar above my eye. I was lucky that the Police didn’t get involved with the incident at the Hospital, and I was fortunate that he made a full recovery.
A great kick for competitions and film sets but no good for self defence
Many years ago I had a female student, she was quiet and unassuming. She trained hard and was great at Kata. I thought she had the potential to compete internationally, only she was too shy to go out in front of a crowd of people.
After several years she gained her Shodan, it required a lot of pushing and coercion from me, but she did it and he did it well. Sadly she moved away from the area for a short time and never came back to training. Later she married and had children. One of her sons came and trained with me recently before he moved away to University.
Why am I telling you this you may be asking yourself? Well I will tell you. All this happened some thirty years ago but about fifteen years ago out of the blue I received a letter from this young lady. In the letter she explained how Karate had changed her life. How because of the hard lessons it had given her the courage to do things she thought she would never be able to face up to. She thanked me for the gift that I had given her and apologised for leaving it so long to thank me.
I was very humbled by this letter and wrote back to say thank you and to tell her that she made the major contribution. The point that we as Instructors should take from a story like this is we sometimes don’t realise how much we can affect people’s lives. It is a big responsibility. Our teaching must always be honest and positive. If you cannot do good, you should never do harm.
This story I’m about to relate to you isn’t about Karate but I think you may find it of interest.
Many years ago after a Saturday morning training session. My old friend, training partner and student Glen and myself decided to go for a “drink or three”. Glen encouraged me to accompany him to a rough pub in his hometown of Bedworth near Coventry. Glen had his own reason for wanting to go to this particular pub which we will not go into.
I remember entering a scruffy run down room, smelling of stale beer and tobacco. The smell might come from the room or the clientele who were a mixture of Rockers and Skinhead types. There were a lot of tattoos and missing teeth. Glen being a local lad knew a lot of the people there. He was somewhat a local hero, being a Doorman and International fighter. We brought drinks and sat at a table. Shortly we were joined by a couple of desperate looking characters. Glen spotted someone he wanted to see about an issue that had arisen on the door a few nights previous and left me to go and have a quiet word. The two lads sitting with me were friendly enough and were engaging me in the gentlemanly banter that establishes status and pecking order. After a few searching questions they seemed satisfied with my credentials. One of the lads was sporting strapping on his left hand. I asked what had happened. He was delighted to tell me how he had won a £50 bet. He was really proud of the fact that whilst drunk a couple of weeks previous he and his mate were making silly bets. His bet was that he wouldn’t move his hand if they nailed it to the table. He being a roofer went out to his truck, came back with a 4 inch nail and a hammer gave it to a mate laid his hand on the table. His mate without hesitation placed the nail in the middle of the back of the hand and gave it a whack with the hammer driving the nail through his hand and into the table. He was so proud to have won the bet and thought it was the greatest achievement of his life.
I asked him how he managed to work with his hand like that, his reply was “I’m not working, haven’t been able to. I’ve been off for two weeks and will be off for at least another two weeks”. I said “so you’ve lost a month’s money for £50?” He said “Yeah but I won the bet”