If you're a devoted reader you may have noticed that I haven't posted anything new in about 6 weeks. The reasons are entirely personal - new job, marital separation, moving - and something in my schedule had to give way. I don't know when or if I'll return to a 2-3 posts/week schedule, but I'll try to post as often as I can for now.
Another thing that stopped me from posting was the fact that this is the 100th entry for this blog. I've been thinking about that milestone for a while now, and wanted to do something significant to mark it.
The problem is that I didn't have anything special to say or do. I mean, there are topics I've been wanting to address, but nothing really special - nothing to warrant an anniversary, if you know what I mean. I can't just post something about a recent study about salt and heart disease for my 100th post! Or my current workout (circuits of chinups, one arm pushups, and one legged squats - surprisingly effective). Since I couldn't think of anything momentous to cover, I wound up not writing anything at all.
Driving in this morning I realized that I could write a post about procrastination, as long as I didn't keep putting it off. You see, the exact same psychological factors that have been keeping me from writing this post are the ones that keep many people from exercising or changing their diet. It's all too easy for someone to want to start going to the gym or changing their eating pattern, yet get caught up in the search for the "perfect" workout or meal plan. People read blogs, research articles, and watch videos, all from the comfort of their couch, bag of Doritos on the side table, planning their lifestyle change.
Which brings me to my friend Kathy (because apparently I have to mention Kathy at least once every 5 or so posts). Kathy has never really been out of shape - she's never been fat or anything close to it - but a few years ago she hit a point where her youngest daughter was out of the constant-care stage (I just mean that while infants need almost constant attention, at a certain age kids are in school a lot and you don't need to spend every minute taking care of them) and she hadn't been in a structured exercise program in a while. I'm not sure why, but she decided to take up running.
Now if Kathy were more like me she would have gone to the library and checked out half a dozen books on running, started reading a couple dozen running blogs, and logged 10-20 hours a week on YouTube watching running videos. Instead, because she's not insane like I am, Kathy put on a pair of running shoes and a skirt and started running.
And loving it.
Within a fairly short period of time I was reading Facebook posts about the joys of the endorphin rush that accompany a 10 mile run (I get tired driving that far). A little while later Kathy was running short races locally, and she's been turning her attention to marathons - she finished the Boston Marathon a little while ago.
The point isn't that she's ignored training theory - she's reading a lot about running now, and putting a lot of thought into her training program, for example. The point is that at the beginning she didn't spend six months reading and picking the perfect shoes; she put the shoes on and tried it. Instead of possibly killing half a year prepping for something that she might not have enjoyed she just... ran.
You know I'm no fan of running, and I have qualms about the long term health implications of marathons, but it's hard to be around Kathy and think that it's done anything but good for her health (not that she seemed unhealthy before or anything).
I write about ways to tailor your training to very specific goals, maximizing efficiency, and stuff like that. But designing the ultimate training program will get you far less benefit than actually doing something, even if that something isn't perfect.
The first principle of training isn't specificity of adaption, or recovery, or movement prep - it's getting off the couch. If you're significantly overweight you might want to do something a little less taxing on your joints than jogging, but lots of chubby people have run themselves into shape anyway. If you're out of shape - go sign up for a martial arts class. Will the conditioning you get there be perfect? Probably not. Will it be significantly better than channel surfing with an occasional brushing movement to get the crumbs off your belly? You betcha.
So in honor of Kathy, who embodies the spirit of Nike commercials everywhere, get off your ass and just do something today. And let it be known that Kathy is my Hero of the Month. For May.
Showing posts with label philosophy of sport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy of sport. Show all posts
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Aesthetic Value of Karate
Check out The Paleo Rodeo this week! I submitted an article again. I get a substantial amount of traffic through the rodeo, so thanks to Diana Hsieh for organizing and maintaining it!
I also added a new photo to the blog - sort of a theme/ logo type of thing. Didn't come out the way I wanted, but it gets the idea across. I'll work on new pictures as time goes on.
Today's post is going to expose my pitifully weak vocabulary, for which I have no real excuse. The saddest part of it is that I was a graduate level philosophy student (although it was a while ago), and I should really have a better handle on some of this terminology. So bear with me, please, as I stumble through what I want to say.
I put a lot of time and energy into training for karate, and I think most people have a hard time understanding it. It's not about self defense (for me) - I sincerely doubt I'll ever be in real fight ever again in my life (I could be wrong, but that's what I believe). It's not to be in shape - I'd do that anyway, but I wouldn't spend the time on karate skills that I have to spend now. It's not about competition or the desire to beat people up - sparring is fun and a great release but it's not a fundamental need for me. So what's the point? Let me explain.
There's a feeling you get (for which there might be a real word, but I don't know it) when you see something beautiful. Now this feeling is often mixed together with other feelings - when you see a beautiful woman you might also experience lust or envy or desire, when you look out onto the world from the top of a mountain you just climbed you might feel pride, when you look at most art you might feel whatever the artist wanted you to feel (anything from love to anger, I guess - I'm no expert on art). But think about the feeling you might get from looking at a well designed piece of electronics, maybe, or a really nice coffee table - I doubt many people get much personal emotional impact from a coffee table to dilute the pure aesthetic experience.
I, and probably many other people, experience this aesthetic reaction while watching certain sports. Not the feeling you get when your team wins, but the feeling you get from watching a well executed move or play - dare I say a beautiful move or play. A great jump in figure skating, a stuck landing in gymnastics, even the stride of a great sprinter - all of these things are beautiful. They elicit an aesthetic response as genuine as what you feel when looking at any great work of art, even though many art snobs would sniff at that idea.
Fight sports are no exception. There are many who enjoy seeing blood or broken bones, or a crazy brawl, which can be exciting. That's not what I'm talking about here. There is a beauty in certain things in fights - watch Giorgio Petrosyan or Anderson Silva maneuver around the ring; watch Mike Zambidis dig a left hook into someone's liver, following up with a right leg kick; watch any technical fighter execute a particularly sweet combination; watch someone like Damian Maya lock a submission onto their opponent out of nowhere; watch George St. Pierre execute a takedown out of nowhere. There's a beauty in movement executed with that kind of perfect timing and precision. You don't see it in every fight - that's why some fights are called "ugly" and some wins are called "ugly wins."
In karate we can see the same kind of beautiful movement. We see the same beautiful strikes, and a lot of beautiful, focused movement in kata. I think that's why some people feel so strongly about kata as the basis for karate - you see more beauty in kata, more easily, than in two man drills or sparring (there are other arguments, of course, I just think this is part of the emotional basis for the position).
Now aesthetic appreciation is a matter of taste. That is, I might find a particular coffee table (or woman, or painting, or vista) beautiful while you may look at that same object and shrug and wonder what the big deal is. That's not because you're wrong (or I'm wrong), any more than I'm wrong because I don't like broccoli - it's a matter of taste. You can't argue with me about broccoli any more than I could convince a broccoli lover that it tastes bad. There is no underlying justification to matters of taste that we can argue about - no arguments we can make. You either appreciate the aesthetic value in something or you don't. We might even say that aesthetic value is relative (I wouldn't say the same about ethical values, but that's another story).
If you watch a great kata or a fantastic K-1 MAX match and just shrug your shoulders then maybe this isn't the art for you. Maybe you should do Zumba or be a grappler or do tricks on a skateboard. I just don't think someone can stick with karate for the long term without loving it, and loving it means (I think) appreciating its beauty - not just wanting to be able to defend yourself, not just wanting to be in shape.
I could be wrong, of course - maybe there are people out there who train for a lifetime without finding karate beautiful, or who learn to love it after years of training. But all karateka should remember that they are chasing a thing of beauty, ultimately. And those of you who wonder why the heck we put on white pj's three times a week and build ugly calluses on our knuckles, remember that we see karate the way you might see great ballet or powerful music or the Mona Lisa - as something beautiful, something worth pursuing, a value in itself. And you can't really argue with any of that.
I also added a new photo to the blog - sort of a theme/ logo type of thing. Didn't come out the way I wanted, but it gets the idea across. I'll work on new pictures as time goes on.
Today's post is going to expose my pitifully weak vocabulary, for which I have no real excuse. The saddest part of it is that I was a graduate level philosophy student (although it was a while ago), and I should really have a better handle on some of this terminology. So bear with me, please, as I stumble through what I want to say.
I put a lot of time and energy into training for karate, and I think most people have a hard time understanding it. It's not about self defense (for me) - I sincerely doubt I'll ever be in real fight ever again in my life (I could be wrong, but that's what I believe). It's not to be in shape - I'd do that anyway, but I wouldn't spend the time on karate skills that I have to spend now. It's not about competition or the desire to beat people up - sparring is fun and a great release but it's not a fundamental need for me. So what's the point? Let me explain.
There's a feeling you get (for which there might be a real word, but I don't know it) when you see something beautiful. Now this feeling is often mixed together with other feelings - when you see a beautiful woman you might also experience lust or envy or desire, when you look out onto the world from the top of a mountain you just climbed you might feel pride, when you look at most art you might feel whatever the artist wanted you to feel (anything from love to anger, I guess - I'm no expert on art). But think about the feeling you might get from looking at a well designed piece of electronics, maybe, or a really nice coffee table - I doubt many people get much personal emotional impact from a coffee table to dilute the pure aesthetic experience.
I, and probably many other people, experience this aesthetic reaction while watching certain sports. Not the feeling you get when your team wins, but the feeling you get from watching a well executed move or play - dare I say a beautiful move or play. A great jump in figure skating, a stuck landing in gymnastics, even the stride of a great sprinter - all of these things are beautiful. They elicit an aesthetic response as genuine as what you feel when looking at any great work of art, even though many art snobs would sniff at that idea.
Fight sports are no exception. There are many who enjoy seeing blood or broken bones, or a crazy brawl, which can be exciting. That's not what I'm talking about here. There is a beauty in certain things in fights - watch Giorgio Petrosyan or Anderson Silva maneuver around the ring; watch Mike Zambidis dig a left hook into someone's liver, following up with a right leg kick; watch any technical fighter execute a particularly sweet combination; watch someone like Damian Maya lock a submission onto their opponent out of nowhere; watch George St. Pierre execute a takedown out of nowhere. There's a beauty in movement executed with that kind of perfect timing and precision. You don't see it in every fight - that's why some fights are called "ugly" and some wins are called "ugly wins."
In karate we can see the same kind of beautiful movement. We see the same beautiful strikes, and a lot of beautiful, focused movement in kata. I think that's why some people feel so strongly about kata as the basis for karate - you see more beauty in kata, more easily, than in two man drills or sparring (there are other arguments, of course, I just think this is part of the emotional basis for the position).
Now aesthetic appreciation is a matter of taste. That is, I might find a particular coffee table (or woman, or painting, or vista) beautiful while you may look at that same object and shrug and wonder what the big deal is. That's not because you're wrong (or I'm wrong), any more than I'm wrong because I don't like broccoli - it's a matter of taste. You can't argue with me about broccoli any more than I could convince a broccoli lover that it tastes bad. There is no underlying justification to matters of taste that we can argue about - no arguments we can make. You either appreciate the aesthetic value in something or you don't. We might even say that aesthetic value is relative (I wouldn't say the same about ethical values, but that's another story).
If you watch a great kata or a fantastic K-1 MAX match and just shrug your shoulders then maybe this isn't the art for you. Maybe you should do Zumba or be a grappler or do tricks on a skateboard. I just don't think someone can stick with karate for the long term without loving it, and loving it means (I think) appreciating its beauty - not just wanting to be able to defend yourself, not just wanting to be in shape.
I could be wrong, of course - maybe there are people out there who train for a lifetime without finding karate beautiful, or who learn to love it after years of training. But all karateka should remember that they are chasing a thing of beauty, ultimately. And those of you who wonder why the heck we put on white pj's three times a week and build ugly calluses on our knuckles, remember that we see karate the way you might see great ballet or powerful music or the Mona Lisa - as something beautiful, something worth pursuing, a value in itself. And you can't really argue with any of that.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Combat Sports: How to fix MMA
Check out Modern Paleo for this week's Paleo Rodeo. I remembered to submit a post this time! Now on to business...
Ever watch a UFC match that turns into two guys holding each other against the cage for long periods of time or holding each other on the floor, doing not much of anything? If not, then I bet you've never watched the UFC. I'm a fan of MMA, but the fact is that a good percentage of MMA fights are boring to watch. We can fix this.
There are two layers to the problem with MMA's ground game and clinch game. The first is that good ground fighting can be hard to understand. Someone without a background in ground sports might see good ground fighting but just not get what's going on. Imagine someone watching the NFL for the first time - all they see is a bunch of guys running around, they won't appreciate what went into a great play because they don't get what's going on. It's like when I watch soccer - instant tears of boredom. The cure for that is knowledge - learning about what goes on in a good ground match. It helps to watch great ground fighters with good commentary. You can't see a lot of Dustin Hazelett or Demian Maia without gaining love for what they do. See, I'm not against the ground game - I'm against bad ground game.
The bigger problem in MMA is boring groundfighting and boring clinchwork. Many UFC fights turn into bad wrestling matches. Basically, good wrestlers can win fights by grabbing their opponents and holding them - "controlling them" - for large portions of the match. Grab a guy, drag him to the ground, and lay on top for three rounds. This strategy is often called "lay and pray." See Jon Fitch, George St. Pierre (the current version, not the pre-Serra knockout version), Efraim Escudero, and a ton of other guys.
Why do fighters do this? Well, it's effective - it wins fights. It's hard to get out from under a good wrestler. If you have control and you really try to damage your opponent or go for a submission, you open yourself up to being swept or counterstruck or submitted (see Chael Sonnen v. Anderson Silva). If you just hold on and move just enough that the ref doesn't stand you up you can sweep the scorecards and notch a victory.
See, the scoring is the problem. It is popular to blame the judges for this. Sometimes that's justified - we've all seen some horrible decisions rendered, often because the judges are boxing people and not MMA people and don't understand what they're watching. But the judges give St. Pierre wins for lying on his opponents because that's what the rules say to do, not because they're bad judges.
The rules say that a fighter should win the round for landing strikes, attempting submissions, or controlling the opponent (I'm paraphrasing). In other words, if you can lie on top of someone for 15 minutes you're supposed to win - that's what the rules say. And it is easier to do than to stand and trade with someone or try to finish them, especially if you're an experienced wrestler and your opponent isn't.
How can we solve this problem? Defenders of wrestling in MMA say that guys should learn to get out from under a wrestler, not complain about it. I say that the rules should be changed in as organic a way as possible to prevent lay and pray.
This has been tried before - having the ref stand fighters after short periods of inactivity on the ground is a common approach. I don't like that. Any time the ref interferes in a fight it's artificial - it stops the flow of the fight, and therefore of the entertainment. Referee involvement needs to be minimized to protecting the safety of the fighters, not splitting the ref's attention between protecting safety and protecting entertainment value.
Instead, the scoring criteria should be changed. Follow my logic here: What's the most natural way to win a fight? To finish the opponent. Clearly, knockouts and submissions should win fights. What if the fight goes the distance? Then it should come down to who came closest to finishing the fight or had the best chance to finish. Only those two things. How do you finish? Strikes or submissions. So you should be rewarded for landing hard strikes or attempting submissions - ONLY. Which should count more? That's a harder question, and it really will come down to the judges'... judgment.
How would this work? Well, think about takedowns. A slam - where a guy is picked up and really driven into the mat - would score points because it damages the opponent - effectively it's a kind of strike. A soft takedown, though, where someone is tripped to the mat but isn't hurt in the process - wouldn't score any points. Laying on top of someone and controlling them wouldn't score. Putting some ground and pound on someone or going for submissions from the top would score. Improving position - getting into mount or side control from the guard - wouldn't score on its own at all. Fighters would only get points (in the judges' eyes) by doing damage or beginning submissions.
In this situation, laying on top of someone for a long time wouldn't get you the victory. If fighters couldn't lay and pray and expect to win, you can bet fighters would stop doing it. They'd start making riskier moves from the top, dishing out strikes and going for kimuras and armbars, giving the guy on bottom a chance to escape and providing entertainment for the fans. This will make for better fights.
Does this put wrestlers out of business? Absolutely not. Top position is an advantage - it's easier to finish someone from the top, but you have to try to do so. Good wrestlers who could take their opponents down could get on top and ground and pound or submit people - I'm okay with that, it would be fun to watch. This change would only end lay and pray, not the ground game in its entirety.
Summary: MMA would be better if decisions weren't based on control but only on damage done and submission attempts. Controlling your opponent and maintaining a position should not in themselves contribute to victory.
Postscript: If you don't like watching guys hug each other in the middle of a fight, you could always switch from the UFC to K-1. There's never, or at least very rarely, a dull moment in K-1. (By the way, I'm opposed to men hugging during a spectator fighting event, I'm not a homophobe - if two guys want to hug each other for romantic reasons I couldn't care less. I just don't want them to interrupt a slugfest to do it, and I'm not particularly interested in watching.)
Ever watch a UFC match that turns into two guys holding each other against the cage for long periods of time or holding each other on the floor, doing not much of anything? If not, then I bet you've never watched the UFC. I'm a fan of MMA, but the fact is that a good percentage of MMA fights are boring to watch. We can fix this.
There are two layers to the problem with MMA's ground game and clinch game. The first is that good ground fighting can be hard to understand. Someone without a background in ground sports might see good ground fighting but just not get what's going on. Imagine someone watching the NFL for the first time - all they see is a bunch of guys running around, they won't appreciate what went into a great play because they don't get what's going on. It's like when I watch soccer - instant tears of boredom. The cure for that is knowledge - learning about what goes on in a good ground match. It helps to watch great ground fighters with good commentary. You can't see a lot of Dustin Hazelett or Demian Maia without gaining love for what they do. See, I'm not against the ground game - I'm against bad ground game.
The bigger problem in MMA is boring groundfighting and boring clinchwork. Many UFC fights turn into bad wrestling matches. Basically, good wrestlers can win fights by grabbing their opponents and holding them - "controlling them" - for large portions of the match. Grab a guy, drag him to the ground, and lay on top for three rounds. This strategy is often called "lay and pray." See Jon Fitch, George St. Pierre (the current version, not the pre-Serra knockout version), Efraim Escudero, and a ton of other guys.
Why do fighters do this? Well, it's effective - it wins fights. It's hard to get out from under a good wrestler. If you have control and you really try to damage your opponent or go for a submission, you open yourself up to being swept or counterstruck or submitted (see Chael Sonnen v. Anderson Silva). If you just hold on and move just enough that the ref doesn't stand you up you can sweep the scorecards and notch a victory.
See, the scoring is the problem. It is popular to blame the judges for this. Sometimes that's justified - we've all seen some horrible decisions rendered, often because the judges are boxing people and not MMA people and don't understand what they're watching. But the judges give St. Pierre wins for lying on his opponents because that's what the rules say to do, not because they're bad judges.
The rules say that a fighter should win the round for landing strikes, attempting submissions, or controlling the opponent (I'm paraphrasing). In other words, if you can lie on top of someone for 15 minutes you're supposed to win - that's what the rules say. And it is easier to do than to stand and trade with someone or try to finish them, especially if you're an experienced wrestler and your opponent isn't.
How can we solve this problem? Defenders of wrestling in MMA say that guys should learn to get out from under a wrestler, not complain about it. I say that the rules should be changed in as organic a way as possible to prevent lay and pray.
This has been tried before - having the ref stand fighters after short periods of inactivity on the ground is a common approach. I don't like that. Any time the ref interferes in a fight it's artificial - it stops the flow of the fight, and therefore of the entertainment. Referee involvement needs to be minimized to protecting the safety of the fighters, not splitting the ref's attention between protecting safety and protecting entertainment value.
Instead, the scoring criteria should be changed. Follow my logic here: What's the most natural way to win a fight? To finish the opponent. Clearly, knockouts and submissions should win fights. What if the fight goes the distance? Then it should come down to who came closest to finishing the fight or had the best chance to finish. Only those two things. How do you finish? Strikes or submissions. So you should be rewarded for landing hard strikes or attempting submissions - ONLY. Which should count more? That's a harder question, and it really will come down to the judges'... judgment.
How would this work? Well, think about takedowns. A slam - where a guy is picked up and really driven into the mat - would score points because it damages the opponent - effectively it's a kind of strike. A soft takedown, though, where someone is tripped to the mat but isn't hurt in the process - wouldn't score any points. Laying on top of someone and controlling them wouldn't score. Putting some ground and pound on someone or going for submissions from the top would score. Improving position - getting into mount or side control from the guard - wouldn't score on its own at all. Fighters would only get points (in the judges' eyes) by doing damage or beginning submissions.
In this situation, laying on top of someone for a long time wouldn't get you the victory. If fighters couldn't lay and pray and expect to win, you can bet fighters would stop doing it. They'd start making riskier moves from the top, dishing out strikes and going for kimuras and armbars, giving the guy on bottom a chance to escape and providing entertainment for the fans. This will make for better fights.
Does this put wrestlers out of business? Absolutely not. Top position is an advantage - it's easier to finish someone from the top, but you have to try to do so. Good wrestlers who could take their opponents down could get on top and ground and pound or submit people - I'm okay with that, it would be fun to watch. This change would only end lay and pray, not the ground game in its entirety.
Summary: MMA would be better if decisions weren't based on control but only on damage done and submission attempts. Controlling your opponent and maintaining a position should not in themselves contribute to victory.
Postscript: If you don't like watching guys hug each other in the middle of a fight, you could always switch from the UFC to K-1. There's never, or at least very rarely, a dull moment in K-1. (By the way, I'm opposed to men hugging during a spectator fighting event, I'm not a homophobe - if two guys want to hug each other for romantic reasons I couldn't care less. I just don't want them to interrupt a slugfest to do it, and I'm not particularly interested in watching.)
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Is Karate a Sport?
I have a habit of comparing karate to sports in this blog - or at least in my head - because a big part of the purpose of this blog is to provide the kind of strength and conditioning information to karateka that is already widely available to, and targeted towards, participants in major sports. It occurred to me that people might assume that I think karate is itself a sport, and so I figured I'd address the issue. Also because arguing about stuff like this is fun (at least to me).
When I was in high school an acquaintance of mine mentioned that he had practiced karate in junior high, but had stopped because he didn't have time to go to tournaments anymore. He said something to the effect that there was no point in training karate if he wasn't going to compete. I was horrified. To me, he was missing 95% of what karate was about - a discipline, a way of life, a means of self defense. He thought of karate as a sport. Was he right?
In order to answer this question we have to start by looking at what the word "sport" means. Nothing fancy here - the meaning of a word is its use in the language. So rather than relying on some dictionary definition we can just look at the way English speakers use the word "sport." What sorts of things do we clearly regard as sports?
There are a number of activities that lie on the fringe of the meaning of sport, activities that lead to arguments regarding their sporthood. But there are also a large number of iconic examples of sport. The major ball sports come to mind - football, soccer, baseball, basketball, hockey (okay, not a ball sport, but the same idea), tennis, golf. Most of these are direct or indirect athletic competitions - competitors trying to achieve some goal while the other team (or player) tries to stop them or competing side by side (as in golf, where there really is no defense). Combat sports like boxing, wrestling, and MMA are also direct competitions. Then there are performance sports - events where athletic activities are judged, and those scores compared. Think figure skating, dance competitions, gymnastics. Bodybuilding is sort of a weird fringe case because what is judged onstage is the physique - which might be the product of an athletic endeavor, but isn't itself an athletic endeavor (sorry, posing doesn't count). We'll put that question aside for now.
So what about karate? Well, there are clearly karate competitions. Parts of those contests fall into both these categories. Sparring is a direct competition. Kata competitions are judged. You'd have a hard time, I think, arguing that sparring is not like a sport when boxing, fencing, and MMA are sports. Does that mean karate is a sport? Not so fast.
We should look at the scope and the history of the activity. Karate did not originate as a sport - it started as a means of self defense. The old masters did not get into rings and fight with rules and judges. Karate has plenty of techniques and aspects that have nothing to do with competition, due to their risks (eye gouging is part of karate but not a good idea when part of sport). Is that true of iconical sports? Is there any component of football that is unsuitable for football competition? Do people intentionally practice football techniques or moves that they wouldn't ever be able to use in a game of some kind?
I think the question of whether karate is a sport is answered already. There are tournaments - that makes it a sport. In part. But think about what my friend from high school had claimed. He thought of karate as only a sport - that there was no point to it without competition. That's not the same as claiming that it has sporting elements. If we re-phrase the question to say, "Is karate just a sport?" then we get a very different answer.
Karate includes sporting elements but it also includes a rich series of elements outside of its position as a sport. To practice karate but never compete would not be unusual; to practice tennis but never compete (play against another tennis player) would be extremely odd.
If you're a sport karate person (someone who sees karate as only, or primarily, a sport) then that's great. But karate practice is, for many of us, and I suspect especially for those of us practicing traditional arts, much more than a sport.
What all of us can agree on is that karate is a disicpline of movement - if you saw someone whose karate practice consisted entirely of seated meditation I think you'd agree that while their practice may be very valuable to them it's not really karate (not to deny that seated meditation can or should be part of your practice). Football, baseball, and dancing are also disciplines of movement. The fact is that in our society (and I'm not being critical here) vast resources are poured into studying ways of making better football and baseball players - largely because there is competition. If you have a kid who is a talented karateka, you send him to karate classes. If your kid can throw a baseball really fast, you might send him to baseball practiace, then get dreams of big league money (or college scholarships) in your head and start sending him to special facilities that make big bucks over developing athletic potential. Sure, there are karate competitions, but the money and status available aren't nearly big enough to drive an industry of support the way baseball and football are.
I talk about karate in the context of sport because in our culture sports are the systems of movement that have the most support and research around them. There are lots of very smart people who spend all their time working to make better baseball players - because there's a lot of money in it (and because there's a lot of passion for baseball in this country). Using the knowledge those guys generate - adapted to the specific demands of karate - can only make us better martial artists.
There is another reason to study competitive sports, another reason (other than popularity, money, and passion) why sport often leads to innovation in training. Competition does two things for athletes and coaches - it provides both motivation and feedback on their training. Think of a strength coach in football. He's going to be highly motivated to get the most out of his athletes - he wants to win on Sunday. In fact, his job may depend on it. Is he going to be more motivated than your karate instructor? Not necessarily - but all your sensei really needs is for you to continue training with you. You have to be satisfied that you're progressing - that doesn't mean you have to get the absolute best training possible. If the football coach gives his players anything short of top notch training then they will lose on Sunday - instant feedback.
This post contains an unusually high degree of meandering, for which I apologize! If anybody wants to argue the sport question feel free to post to comments. Otherwise, keep training! Osu.
When I was in high school an acquaintance of mine mentioned that he had practiced karate in junior high, but had stopped because he didn't have time to go to tournaments anymore. He said something to the effect that there was no point in training karate if he wasn't going to compete. I was horrified. To me, he was missing 95% of what karate was about - a discipline, a way of life, a means of self defense. He thought of karate as a sport. Was he right?
In order to answer this question we have to start by looking at what the word "sport" means. Nothing fancy here - the meaning of a word is its use in the language. So rather than relying on some dictionary definition we can just look at the way English speakers use the word "sport." What sorts of things do we clearly regard as sports?
There are a number of activities that lie on the fringe of the meaning of sport, activities that lead to arguments regarding their sporthood. But there are also a large number of iconic examples of sport. The major ball sports come to mind - football, soccer, baseball, basketball, hockey (okay, not a ball sport, but the same idea), tennis, golf. Most of these are direct or indirect athletic competitions - competitors trying to achieve some goal while the other team (or player) tries to stop them or competing side by side (as in golf, where there really is no defense). Combat sports like boxing, wrestling, and MMA are also direct competitions. Then there are performance sports - events where athletic activities are judged, and those scores compared. Think figure skating, dance competitions, gymnastics. Bodybuilding is sort of a weird fringe case because what is judged onstage is the physique - which might be the product of an athletic endeavor, but isn't itself an athletic endeavor (sorry, posing doesn't count). We'll put that question aside for now.
So what about karate? Well, there are clearly karate competitions. Parts of those contests fall into both these categories. Sparring is a direct competition. Kata competitions are judged. You'd have a hard time, I think, arguing that sparring is not like a sport when boxing, fencing, and MMA are sports. Does that mean karate is a sport? Not so fast.
We should look at the scope and the history of the activity. Karate did not originate as a sport - it started as a means of self defense. The old masters did not get into rings and fight with rules and judges. Karate has plenty of techniques and aspects that have nothing to do with competition, due to their risks (eye gouging is part of karate but not a good idea when part of sport). Is that true of iconical sports? Is there any component of football that is unsuitable for football competition? Do people intentionally practice football techniques or moves that they wouldn't ever be able to use in a game of some kind?
I think the question of whether karate is a sport is answered already. There are tournaments - that makes it a sport. In part. But think about what my friend from high school had claimed. He thought of karate as only a sport - that there was no point to it without competition. That's not the same as claiming that it has sporting elements. If we re-phrase the question to say, "Is karate just a sport?" then we get a very different answer.
Karate includes sporting elements but it also includes a rich series of elements outside of its position as a sport. To practice karate but never compete would not be unusual; to practice tennis but never compete (play against another tennis player) would be extremely odd.
If you're a sport karate person (someone who sees karate as only, or primarily, a sport) then that's great. But karate practice is, for many of us, and I suspect especially for those of us practicing traditional arts, much more than a sport.
What all of us can agree on is that karate is a disicpline of movement - if you saw someone whose karate practice consisted entirely of seated meditation I think you'd agree that while their practice may be very valuable to them it's not really karate (not to deny that seated meditation can or should be part of your practice). Football, baseball, and dancing are also disciplines of movement. The fact is that in our society (and I'm not being critical here) vast resources are poured into studying ways of making better football and baseball players - largely because there is competition. If you have a kid who is a talented karateka, you send him to karate classes. If your kid can throw a baseball really fast, you might send him to baseball practiace, then get dreams of big league money (or college scholarships) in your head and start sending him to special facilities that make big bucks over developing athletic potential. Sure, there are karate competitions, but the money and status available aren't nearly big enough to drive an industry of support the way baseball and football are.
I talk about karate in the context of sport because in our culture sports are the systems of movement that have the most support and research around them. There are lots of very smart people who spend all their time working to make better baseball players - because there's a lot of money in it (and because there's a lot of passion for baseball in this country). Using the knowledge those guys generate - adapted to the specific demands of karate - can only make us better martial artists.
There is another reason to study competitive sports, another reason (other than popularity, money, and passion) why sport often leads to innovation in training. Competition does two things for athletes and coaches - it provides both motivation and feedback on their training. Think of a strength coach in football. He's going to be highly motivated to get the most out of his athletes - he wants to win on Sunday. In fact, his job may depend on it. Is he going to be more motivated than your karate instructor? Not necessarily - but all your sensei really needs is for you to continue training with you. You have to be satisfied that you're progressing - that doesn't mean you have to get the absolute best training possible. If the football coach gives his players anything short of top notch training then they will lose on Sunday - instant feedback.
This post contains an unusually high degree of meandering, for which I apologize! If anybody wants to argue the sport question feel free to post to comments. Otherwise, keep training! Osu.
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