Not too long ago, I started shootboxing training. Even though it’s a relatively unfamiliar arena with a different rule system than what I am used to, it’s interesting to see how I can adapt what I know to this particular combat situation, and I can still fight with a fair degree of confidence.
The funny thing about it though, is that this confidence and adaptability didn’t come from from my record of competition wins- it came from overcoming a major loss. Several years ago, I was asked to do a kickboxing match here in Tokyo. As I was the “big mean foreigner” against a local Japanese opponent, the fight’s promoters, (and seemingly everyone else involved) thought it necessary to make sure that I didn’t win. The rules were skewed in his favor, I was asked to lose an obscene amount of weight, and I was made to wear heavier gloves. The fight went as can be expected, but it was still a painful loss to suffer nonetheless.
The sting of racial prejudice hurt- but I’d dealt with that before, so that wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was the myriad of regrets I had after the fight was over. There were mistakes I made both in how I trained, and how I fought. There were things that I tolerated in the fight set up that I shouldn’t have. During the fight, instead of fighting to KO my opponent, I resigned to not getting knocked out myself or taken off my feet.
After the match (and for quite a long time afterwards) all these things kept resonating throughout my mind, and I just couldn’t seem to let go, and get over it. It was difficult to keep my head up- not just as a fighter, but as a foreigner living in Japan. It was also difficult not to succumb to reverse racism, and hate back.
At the same time though, looking back on that experience, I wouldn’t take that loss (or the period following it) back for anything. The pain of that loss drove me to not just examine the inherent flaws of the particular martial system that I was trained to fight in, but also the psychological flaws that I as a fighter, (and a person) would need to overcome in order to adapt to situations like that.
The internal battle I faced to not hate back, caused me to grow to be a bigger person, and pushed me to develop an even deeper understanding of the cultural psychology of Japan- a process that is responsible for a lot of the success I have today. The lack of good representation I had during the fight made me realize how important it is to be able to communicate on one’s own, and drove me to not just enter two Japanese language programs at once, but also to resume my study of Korean (previously my strongest foreign language).
Looking back, I can say in all honesty that the gains that I made as a person by losing that fight far outweighted the gains that I would have made by winning it.
In the poem, ‘If ‘ Rudyard Kipling states:
If you can meet with Triumph and disaster, and treat those two imposters just the same [you’ll be a MAN, my son!]
Although I read this quote years ago, it took me until now to truly internalize what he meant- that ultimately, life isn’t meant to be fair; live is meant to be lived. This is the case regardless of the circumstances we may have to face.
While it may be the victories that give us confidence, allow us to silence the mind, move without thought, and discover the artform in all things, it is the loses that are our greatest teachers, and the process of fighting our way past them that gives us strength, character, and wisdom. As such, they are of equal importance, and equal value, and we cannot grow as people without a fair amount of experience in both.
Since that match, I have never seen or met my opponent again. As he lives outside of Tokyo, and I only know his first name, it’s unlikely that I ever actually will. If I ever get the chance to however, at this point, I can be proud that I could calmly shake his hand, I could articulately speak to him in his own language, and do so with an understanding of the cultural background that he comes from …and I could kick him in the head.
