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

It’s obviously critical for a sparring coach to have a thorough knowledge of the rules. They must, in fact, know them at least as good as those who will judge their athletes. So all national coaches were required to become certified as officials within the WUKO/WKF system, at least at the regional level. Certification in sparring required coaches to essentially memorize the extensive WUKO/WKF rule book in order to pass the written test. (The better they scored on the test, the more ready they were perceived to be to lead one of our national teams into international competition.) Then, they had to judge kumite matches to the satisfaction of a panel of high level referees.

Becoming certified as a kata judge was much more difficult.

Since the first task of a kata judge is to evaluate a competitor’s knowledge of his/her kata, candidates had to possess a strong knowledge of not only the 22 approved kata but also any a finalist might choose to perform as their open, third round kata.

They were also required to take a written test, based on the WUKO/WKF kata rules. Then, they were asked to judge the kata performances of ten athletes. Their order of finish, first through fifth placement, had to be very close to that of a panel of senior officials. Next, they had to go before a board of senior dan grades, who questioned them about their knowledge of kata. And, finally, they had to perform whatever kata the board selected. It was this last requirement that proved the most scary and often humbling for most candidates.

As I’ve mentioned, Hanshi Anderson claimed that, besides being an encyclopedia of your system, kata represented a karateka’s credentials. The number of kata one knows, the quality of their ability to perform them, and their ability to clearly demonstrate the self defense elements contained within them, become their credentials – proof of their rank.

But he also said those who could pass the kata judge’s exam became “certified as competent in their art. Those who can’t pass the test are certified as being incompetent in their art.”

On a couple of occasions, Hanshi Anderson asked me to sit on evaluation boards to examine PUKO kata judges for certification. Those who came before us were mostly medium to high dan grades. But regardless of rank, everyone was extremely nervous.

If someone asks us about our qualifications as martial artists, we can tell them about our years of training, who we trained with, mention our rank and titles. We can show them trophies won, rank certificates, course completions, articles on us, and awards received. But on the floor, in front of people judging our every move down to the most subtle nuance, we are laying it all on the line. There was no place to hide. One sensei, a 7^th dan and the head of a major style in a significant country, got so nervous he started having chest pains. We had to stop the test and get him medical help. One ran off the floor to throw up. Another forgot to kiai. Very few made no major mistakes.

I always remind my students that our true rank is not necessarily what we wear around our waist. It is more likely closer to what people who don’t know us or anything about us would judge us to be if we put on a white belt and joined a class. A black belt would look like a black belt. A high dan would look like a high dan. If no one noticed any difference between us and the beginners around us, then we’re likely far lower in rank (knowledge and ability) than we think.

Just my two cents. Thanks again for reading my humble ramblings.