Bio-Vlog

In round four, my opponent stomps the floor like a bull revving up for a charge. He abruptly switches his stance. He lunges, grabs my front hand and pulls it down, neutralizing my defense and exposing my face. Then he runs past me, bopping my left eye with his left fist and, in that flashbulb-popping…

As soon as the second round begins, I absorb a towel-snapping-like Bruce Lee heel kick against my back, followed by another leg-spinning heel kick to my solar plexus. This double-whammy momentarily rocks me. I absorb them, but feel the pain of the same combination of kicks several more times during the second round. Although wobbling,…

After doing my katas and defenses against knife- and Billy-club attacks, I’m already gasping for air from the stress.  “Mr. Turner,” Murphy commands, “On deck.” He points to my first opponent signaling for him to step forward. Then he says with an emotionless tone, “Bow to me, bow to your opponent, Hajimay-fight.”  I charge with…

Once inside the Dojo my Dad can see the blood lust in the eyes of the spectators. “Son,” my Dad asks concerned. “Do you think you should be fighting all these guys? It sounds and looks dangerous.”  “Dad,” I say, “You’ve never backed down and I’m sure you don’t want me to either. So just…

“Seated at my table with me is karate black belt, Diego Gonzalez. Diego, you started fighting with Mr. Turner fifty years ago. Please share with us a few fighting and fun stories.” “Okay, Mr. Racherbaumer. When Mr. Turner first started training, and I had to fight in a match against him, Sensei would say to…

It’s a blasting, hot summer day, it’s time for my second, marquee karate test, “and it isn’t going to be fun!”  Douglas, my Father and I step inside the Tijuana dojo. Douglas says, exasperated, “It feels like an interrogation bunker, and today the temperature topped 105 with 90% humidity! We aren’t going to even be…

I’m not thrilled, as it’s my turn to get thumped. Murphy motions my opponent to step forward. When he does so, he bows, and I bow as well. A split-second after the bow, before I even have a chance to hold up my arms and assume a fighting stance, my opponent lunges with a step-across…

The fret of not seeing a punch or kick coming my way and getting seriously hurt causes me to use every ploy I can come up with to stall my first fight, like hiding in the corner looking down, pretending I’m invisible. I manage to delay my initiation fight for six weeks, until Douglas finally…

I join Murphy’s school at a fee of six dollars per month, which is the Mexican rate he kindly offers me; the U.S. rate is nine dollars a month.   After I join, I have no idea what is in store for me. How could I? One’s weapons are hands, feet, arms, and legs. Unlike cardsharping,…

I come face-to-face with Sensei John Murphy, a man who sounds like some kind of super hero from a comic book. Douglas makes the introductions, “Sensei, I’d like you to meet Mr. Rick Turner. I spoke to you about him training here; his brother is David, the nine-year-old student in your San Diego school.” “Ah,…

After returning to the States, Sensei married a beautiful Hispanic woman, Rosemary. “As you train, you will notice that, during nightly fights,” Douglas says with a sly snicker, “Rosemary has the thankless job of mopping up the blood from the wooden floor so that nobody slips and is unnecessarily hurt.” Douglas continues, “Sensei wanted his…

“Mr. Douglas,” I ask curiously, “When and where did Sensei Murphy get his black belt?” Douglas explains, in “1957, after basic training in the Army, Sensei Murphy was sent to Japan. He joined a karate school and diligently studied under Sato and Yamaguchi, two chief Japanese instructors, where he earned his black belt in what…