I recently reached a small milestone in my judo career when I received my Sandan, or third degree Black belt. I wasn’t initially going to write about it, but I realized that I began this blog to not only express my thoughts and share cool videos, but also to capture some of the more important moments in my judo and jiu jitsu career. So here it is.
I was recently asked by one of my students, “Do you feel any different now that you’re a Sandan?” I initially brushed it off and explained that I feel the same. “It’s just another promotion, Yodan is next.” I explained. I still believe this to be true, a promotion isn’t really everything. It’s what you do in the dojo, what you do for others, and how you carry yourself off the mat, that really counts. Also, while I am absolutely not belt chasing, my mental focus is hellbent on earning my jiu jitsu Black belt. I suppose this is why I viewed my Sandan in such a nonchalant matter.
But upon reflection, just looking purely at my judo career alone, it’s a small accomplishment that I am proud of because of where it all began. I started judo when I was 13, initially because of my older brother. I remember walking from my intermediate school to the high school (yes, uphill both ways and yes, in the snow) to sit and watch practices. In Hawaii, there are judo teams, just like there are baseball, football, and volleyball teams. I remember my brother telling me about how great judo was and how I absolutely had to join. I also remember, distinctly, telling him that I never wanted to compete, I just wanted to practice. Who would have thought that I would be the one to have traveled the world competing in international tournaments? Unbelievable.
My dojo, Leeward Judo, was small and we practiced in a high school cafeteria. But there was a charm to it. We had to set up and break down the mat space before and after every practice. My brother and I would perform WWF matches before class, remembering so still brings a smile to my face. Red dirt, which Hawaii is known for, would permanently stain our cheap, oversized HSU gis red. My friends and I would compete at local tournaments monthly and we used to stay up watching the same two VHS judo tapes over and over and over again. I was too young to have a ride to and from practice, so my sensei would drop me off and pick me up so that I could attend classes. It was a very influential time in my life, and I couldn’t ask to be surrounded by better people.
It’s memories like these that make my promotion to Sandan valuable to me. This promotion is also a testament to those who have supported me from the beginning. What they maybe do not know, is that at that time in my life I was so close to becoming an absolute nothing. These people sacrificed their time and energy to help mold a kid that, without them, would have been completely lost. To conclude, my Sandan is not a promotion for me, I view it as a promotion to the people around me, for without them, I would still be nothing.
“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known.”
andynewazalife 