Those who can, spar. Those who can’t, do kata – Part IV

Hanshi George Anderson and me

Hanshi George Anderson was a great mentor and friend, who we unfortunately lost in August of 2009. He had created and served as head of the USA Karate Federation (USAKF) until his death. For several years, the USAKF was the official National Governing Body (NGB) for karate in the United States under the auspices of the U.S. Olympic Committee.

NGB is a significant designation. It means that only that organization – then the USAKF and now the USANKF – is approved to select, train, and field any team that officially represents the United States in international competition and to host the official national championships. If the sport or activity is an Olympic event, then that organization also decides who will represent the United States at the Olympics.

Hanshi Anderson also headed the Pan American Union of Karatedo Organizations (PUKO), the official hemispheric governing body for the Americas under the International Olympic Committee (IOC). And he was 1^st Vice President and senior member of the powerful Executive Committee of WUKO/WKF, the official world governing body for karate under the IOC. He had previously served as head of the important WUKO Referees Committee, which established and administered the rules for international competition in both sparring and kata.

In 1988, I flew to Mexico City with the US team in order to meet Hanshi Anderson and see what kind of person he was so I could determine if I wanted to be a part of the new organization. (My experiences with the old A.A.U. Karate program had been less than stellar. After Sensei Joe Mirza later took over leadership of AAU Karate, it was significantly improved. When Julius Thiery took over the NGB – I’ll talk at some point about what I consider that dirty bit of business – I supported AAU Karate and found many great people there and a great program.) I expected to spend a few moments with Hanshi Anderson in Mexico but ended up spending several days. He took me under his wing, introduced to everyone significant, and brought me to all the high level functions. By the time I returned home, he and I had become close friends, and remained so for the rest of his years.

Hanshi Anderson was a natural teacher. His mind never shut off – a quality/shortcoming we shared. We both liked to synthesize things we learned from seemingly unrelated sciences or disciplines with the martial arts. For example, he once came across the phrase “Rate of Closure”. This is an optical illusion experienced sometimes by pilots. But he applied it to karate matches. He believed that a normal fighter attempted (on average) to close on his/her opponent 8 times during a match. He brought this up while we were flying in a small plane to the Caribbean Island of Guadeloupe. We then spent the rest of the trip, and the long flight home, brainstorming ways to increase or decrease an opponent’s rate of closure – increasing or decreasing their attempts to attack during a match to more or less than the average 8. This is important as it can be used to prevent a superior attacker or defender from using that asset to their advantage. (I’ll likely go into this – including when and how to use it – in a future post.)

We often sat next to each other during long air flights, car rides, and bus trips in our travels around the world. And he would always educate me along the way. But no one was ever allowed to be simply a passive listener with Hanshi Anderson. He always asked a lot of questions to test you and enhance the learning experience. For example, he might ask “What are the ten greatest sins a sparring referee can make?” Then, if you didn’t get the answer right, he would explain what and why those were. So I learned a tremendous amount kind of at his knee.

When a particularly heavy load had been dumped on him, usually by some jerk (and there were lots of them at the world level), he could sometimes lash out at whoever was nearby, which was often me. I understood and didn’t mind. It’s sometimes the price one pays for that level of closeness to great men and women. They sometimes treat you with the same sharpness as they treat and drive themselves, which I took as a complement of sorts. I was former military so I understood well and had no problem with the kohai/sempai relationship. Plus, the martial arts are where one goes to learn to say “Ous”, which is what I would do. He was my senior and my mentor. I had no problem with that. Although he would never apologize, he would also be exceptionally kind at other times, more than making up for it.

He asked me to serve as Head of Delegation for the USA Karate Team for the World Karate Congress at both the ’88 Cairo and ’90 Mexico City WUKO championships. I had been asked to address the Congress in Cairo and speak about increasing the spread of traditional karatedo through the colleges and universities. When Hanshi Anderson introduced me to WUKO President Jacques Delcourt, the Executive Committee, and the assembled senior group of karate heads from the 144 member nations, he said “I know he doesn’t look like it, he looks more like a college professor, but he’s probably the biggest sleeper in the martial arts. He can hit you faster and harder than you can possibly imagine.” I was speechless for a few seconds, taken aback by his flattery, even if it surely wasn’t true. But that was Hanshi Anderson. We had many great times together and I miss him.

Next time, I’ll talk about what I learned from Hanshi Anderson about evaluating kata and a test so scary it gave one high level instructor a heart attack.

Again, thanks for reading my humble ramblings.