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Last year it was a musical instrument, I took up bass guitar and i'm really enjoying it.
I've always wanted to learn a Martial Art for fun and self defense. Anyone involved here? Any advice :)
Jon
Kung Fu is widely reputed to be the oldest and one of the purist forms of martial arts and is exhilating to watch and perfom (ever seent the shaolin monks?)
Then there are those that use weapons like ikedo. There is Judo that bases many of the techniques on throws and holds. Tai Chi that utilises breathing, balance and repetiive movements and even some that are designed more for fitness that self defence like body combat.
The list is wide and varied. To make a choce I work out what you want back from it. Do you want to protect yourself - or are you looking to improve your fitness and overall mental health and confidence?
Oh and the end of the day, the best defence is still to run ;)
I too would like to take up martial arts again. I used to practice Judo (which I think has become more of a 'fighting sport' than true martial art) and then I move to full contact (which is no martial art at all) to Taijutsu (aka Ninjustu). The latter was very interesting because our sensei used to mix training with philosophy and history of the art which I found REALLY great. I had to leave all that behind when I moved to the UK.
Leo
I think that Bruce lee studied Wing Chung but he developed Jeet Kune Do
Oh and the end of the day, the best defence is still to run
Either that, or a steady hand, quick eye, and a .357 loaded with hollow-points! ;) (Actually, we keep .38 Specials in our .357 since they're far less dangerous.)
If you took a martial-arts expert and had him fight (in earnest) a professional boxer, who would win?
Mixed Martial Arts competitions have answered this question years ago - even novice grapplers and strikers can destroy TMA (Traditional Martial Arts) guys at will - if need to learn how to fight, you want to crosstrain American Boxing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Muy-Thai Kickboxing.
Wing chun is also interesting
Usually you are expected to be a black belt in something else first, but if like me, you are a skinny harmless looking woman who had been sucessfully beating off the overly optimistic, mostly untrained, for years, they should let you in without a black belt.
It is the only martial art I would recommend if its real fights you are interested in winning. Its practiced in street clothes and ordinary footwear, on the entirely reasonable grounds that when you are jumped from behind by three muggers in a dark alley its unlikely they are going to wait for you to change your outfit.
Matthew,
>I just don't see a little guy, kicking and flailing around, being able to beat up a large man with huge, well-aimed fists and powerful muscles.
Thats easy. Go for the knees.
:)
Long answer:
Look around a bit. If your first experience is not what your after, try again, because styles of instruction and content of style / philosophy will vary widely.
As far as what style is "the best", it will more than anything depend on who is the best teacher in your area. learning the "best" style from a poor teacher will waste your time.
Finding a good teacher might be hit and miss till you have a few years experience. - Don't let a case of trophies or exalted belt levels sway you. Someone who has taught long enough to have students teaching under him/her is probably O.K. so long as they aren't handing out the belts too fast.
Ask "how long till I'm a black belt/sash?" If the instructor gives you anything more solid than "That depends", or "several years" I'd be wary. Watch for guys who want you to sign a contract, or pay for "belt tests" every 2-3 months. Don't let something taught out of a church basement put you off too much. In the years I studied, the absolute best instructors ALL had day jobs and were just teaching nights and weekends.
Above all, have fun with it ;-)
Say what?
In college I stood 6'2" and a pretty well muscled 210. Ralph stood about 5'4" 145. We were frat brothers and friendly. Ralph was a somewhat edgy, somewhat remote guy, but we hung from time to time.
Ralph grew up in Newark, NJ, which had some rough neighborhoods. Anyone remember the Newark riots? Ralph used to tell us frat boys how he had to know how to protect himself because he never knew, from day to day, what kind of crazy stuff might go down and he never knew if you would have a weapon handy when it did. Yeah, right . . .
One day, while walking back from psych class, Ralph was explaining the essentials of taking down a big opponent who was looking to put a hurt on someone (him). I listened, filed it away and thought to myself "Yeah, right . ."
One night, later that year, I was standing on the porch of our fraternity house when a drunk from another fraternity arrived, insisting on his right to crash a dance party going on inside our house. I was standing on the porch chilling out and Ralph was doing door duty, meaning it was his job for that hour to keep out the riffraff.
Ralph, in his own special confident style (which I never quite fully understood up to that point) was very businesslike dealing with this large, mouthy drunk, who was taller than me by a few inches and about the same weight. Observing the drunk's somewhat hostile manner I started to calculate the manner of my impending involvement. My weight started to shift for a quick launch.
Suddenly, the drunk decided he had had enough of talk and reasoning, and gave Ralph a hard shove and then went after Ralph with his fists.
Little Ralph. I was starting to move.
What happen next happened so fast that the only way I was able to capture it - to perceive it - was likely due to a "created memory", something I had imagined when Ralph explained earlier that year how he would handle difficult fighting odds. It happened in an instant but it was one of life's slow motion events.
Ralph lowered his head and dove head-first, for the guys groin. He hit that target but didn't stop there.
He proceded partly through the drunks legs, still bent over, to the point where his shoulders hit the guy's legs, whereupon Ralph took both his arms, wrapped them around the drumk's lower legs, lifted the drunk off the ground and sent this guy flying backwards through the air.
At that moment - with the drunk flying backwards - Ralph straighted out his upper torso somewhat and continued his own forward lunge - literally flying through the air - with his right arm now pulling back. As both he and the drunk crashed onto the porch floor Ralph - in one synchronous move - drove his right knee into the drunk's groin whilst concurrently jamming his index finger into the drunk's left eye and his pinky into the drunk's other eye.
If that wasn't enough Ralph continued his forward lunge now bringing his forehead down, with a snap of his head, on the guy's nose, breaking it (I heard the crunch).
Then, still moving as if in some grotesque ballet move of mayhem, Ralph slid his cheek across the guys face for the coup de grace: A vicious, pitbull like, snarling bite on the side of the drunk's face, almost taking off his ear.
How do I remember this in such detail?
Well, what I witnessed that night on the porch was exactly - I mean exactly - what Ralph once told me he would do if he had to deal with a much larger attacker. In Ralph's case that meant most every attacker. I guess Ralph had a lot of practice because he had the moves down perfect.
I'm certain there is no school that teaches such maneuvers except the school of hard knocks. I have never seen such fury unleashed and mayhem delivered with such singular purpose of swiftly disabling and dispatching an attacker.
Epilogue: Yes, of course, 40+ other fraternity brothers of the aggrieved arrived within minutes, as did - fortunately - a number of police cruisers.
Once had some trouble in a pub a mate who the two bigger attackers thought was on his own was attacked.
Only there were around 9 of us, by the time the police arrived one was out cold and the others was actually pleading for his life.
We told the cops what happened they knew of these two and they told us all to go home.... Incredible as I was expecting to be done.
if need to learn how to fight, you want to crosstrain American Boxing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Muy-Thai Kickboxing.
I have to agree there. There is much to be said for Jiu-Jitsu, but it wins the comps partially because of the controlled environment. One on one, no interference.
Like said above, you need to be able to strike, block, run, etc. Mostly run, imo, but a good strike can get a nice head start. A good block will keep you from being done before you have a chance to exit.
What Ralph's little display taugh me was that, if you are attacked, a swift counter that disables the aggressor or convinces him that there's an extreme price to be paid, is likely to arrest the attack. I knew this before the incident. Ralph's actions were a singularly compelling "3 second video" in support of the idea.
Of course, what Ralph overlooked was the fact that a counterstrike was likely, involving an entire fraternity house. I don't blame Ralph for defending himself, and what he did is best explalined as a well honed instinctive response, but the aftereffects could have been catastrophic - a full on rumble involving a 100+, which only came to a stop by the arrival of multiple police cars.
Perhaps the sub-message of the story - which, in the original post, was to me "Just don't mess with people as you never know who you are messing with" - is this: If you ever find yourself in such a situation be certain that your next move, after repelling the attack, is to get out of Dodge.
The vanquished just might have a large host of sympathetic of comrades.
As a female its especially inportant to run away. The police never believe a female is capable of defending herself unless she is crazy. And if she is crazy she must have started it.
I like your mate Ralph's technique. My roomate here says Ralph actually used three martial arts techniques: 'krav maga' with the fingers in the eyes (personally I use the first two fingers) the headbutt was 'Irish Pub Brawling' and the ear savaging was 'Redneck Barfightin'' :)
Before I learned anything formally, I learned a lot of theory from my friend Simon. I never got to see him in action though because every time there was trouble, faster than you could blink, both Simon and the trouble were gone! If you followed the trail of blood fast enough you might find Simon outside the place with a big grin on his face and the villan limping off down the street faster than you'd think a man could limp. But action? Not much to see - it was so fast.
Only one time did it go a bit wrong. I followed the usual trail of blood through a crowded bar to find that, unusually, the landlord had locked one of a set of double doors. Simon had the miscreant over his shoulders and a puzzled look on his face as he wondered why the door wasn't responding to what I gather must have been his usual technique - using the attacker's head to push open the door. As it was locked this time Simon just used the guys head as a battering ram to break the door down.
It took two or three goes, which is how come I had time to catch up with him, but the door came off its hinges eventually and what was left of the villan got dumped on the pavement outside. Simon just stood there grinning at him as he picked himself up and sloped off down Doncaster high street.
Stan O. was the toughest, craziest, most muscle bound and fearless knucklehead I have ever known. Stan O. was the posterchild for steroids when steroid health problems were only rumors. Muscle mass and definition defined Stan O.
Everyone knew when Stan O. was angry. Our high school got noisy and things got destroyed: Walls, lockers, equipment, doors, furniture, you name it. Stan was so ornery he even got into a fist fight with the high school football coach, no slacker himself in the less brains and more muscles department, though in comparison to Stan O. the coach was a bona fide nice guy.
One day, whilst out cruising and looking for trouble, Stan O. took offense when someone passed his muscle car, so when both cars stopped at a traffic light, Stan O. jumped out, ran up to the car and started banging on the car's roof and window.
At this point, the driver - a person only ever described as "small and skinny" (and ethnic) - rolled down the window and stuck Stan O. one time - with an ice pick - in the chest, and then drove off.
According to the coroner's report the little sharp point of the ice pick hit Stan O's aorta. Stan O's muscle buddy, who was sitting in Stan's car, wouldn't have been able to help Stan even if he possessed the training to do so. Stan died there in the street. He was 18, 19 at the most.
Stan O's buddy made one more observation that I'm aware of, worth noting, and it was this: That Stan O. had a look of disbelief on his face as he crumpled to the ground.
I'd take that look as sign that Stan O. was coming to grips with his flesh and blood mortality. I'm sure, prior to this, spilling his blood was a sign of his toughness. Sad. When I watch extreme sports I'm left to wonder how many similar facial expression have never been captured by cameras.
Stan was the first person, but unfortunately not the only person, that I have known whose life ended in a violent death. The others also extoled the virtue of their toughness when I knew them.
Avoid trouble at all cost, all the time. Really. No matter what training you have or weapons you carry. It only takes small things and a little bad luck to come to a bad end.
Actually, reading this thread makes me realize why I'll never be particularly well-qualified to defend myself using physical violence. I'm not mean enough. I've never hit anyone in the face before, and frankly, it seems a pretty gross thing to do. I'm sure I wouldn't have the stomach to actually do anything more to an attacker than what was absolutely necessary, not with my own two hands at least, and if it came to a fistfight, I'd probably be pretty half-hearted and get the worst of it. Actually, that's why I like the idea of having guns in the house - if I ever need to defend myself, I'll be able to do it in a much less personal way.
Avoid trouble at all cost, all the time. Really. No matter what training you have or weapons you carry. It only takes small things and a little bad luck to come to a bad end.
You're sure right there. I've also heard stories like you just told that just go to show that discretion is the better part of valor after all. Although I will say that Stan sounds like a maniac to me; anyone who is so easily angered and so agressive that they will go pound on someone's car like that just needs to get a handle on themselves. I mean, really, by 18 or 19 you're supposed to be starting to act like an adult.
I have to agree: Shakespeare's words would certainly be appropriate last words for the closing act for this thread. ;)
Discretion is the better part of valor.
*injure* is avoiding the issue ...
Avoid fighting if you are not prepared at the outset to cause death ...
Anything or anyone can be the cause or your or anothers death ...( be inventive if needs be ..improvise ..).
Avoid trouble at all cost, all the time. Really. No matter what training you have or weapons you carry. It only takes small things and a little bad luck to come to a bad end.
Only one thing I'd disagree with here
Avoid trouble at all cost, all the timeis not always possible ..I was "advised" ..."their gods will sort em out" ....I disagreed with just the "gods" part ( I'm aetheist ) I 'm ( and those whom I care about are ) alive .."they" are not ..satisfactory conclusion ..
Unusual subject for here ..maybe a sign of the times we are in?..maybe the world is waking up ..about time ..
Actually, that's why I like the idea of having guns in the house - if I ever need to defend myself, I'll be able to do it in a much less personal way.
When someone enters your home uninvited, I think they've sufficiently backed you into a corner, and shown their intent to cause you harm or seriously threaten you, with little regard for their own safety. Even if they're only there to steal, I consider that harmful.
But, guns are a real pain to carry around with you, even if you can do so legally. Maybe in the glovebox while driving a nice car through an ugly place.
Even if you might not want to use it in a fight, martial arts are still good for discipline, fitness, and confidence.
True. I'm a short guy and had to think fast when I was a kid. Talk fast, too. Talking fast has saved me from some scary encounters. But not the following encounter. There was no time to talk. There was no time to run. It happened that fast.
This happened around ten years ago.
I was once accosted by four guys after my girlfriend and I had closed down a bar and were on our way home. We were walking home, they were coming at us. Nothing was suspected on my end. But apparently these guys were just walking down the street randomly attacking people who were smaller than themselves. After my encounter with this knucklehead I came upon a group of people they had just beat up.
The biggest guy came at me, he was well over six foot- this all happened really fast. So I moved in close and just whaled on his eyes and nose as hard as I could. Had to jump to get those punches in good and deep. His arms were so long all he could do was give me a friendly hug. His knees tried to kick me but the length of his legs made them utterly useless at close range. He was pretty much my target to hit at will, as long as I could keep him off guard with those punches.
He had enough of getting his face pummeled so he pulled away to get a better advantage, at which point I remembered I was carrying a really really sharp knife that I had found at the art film house floor the week before. This knife was also short, but it was deadly sharp.
Some of my friends who were veterans of several Central American Civil wars in the eighties had advised me on the proper way to palm it, open it, and swing it for maximum effect. They also told me what were the best targets for a knife like that. So I had had some time to contemplate the knife, but never thought I'd actually need to use it.
I opened it and ran up to the guy, just totally rushed him. He stepped and leaned backwards just enough to save himself from having something drastic happen to his nose- his height advantage had saved him.
He tried to kick the knife out of my hand but the adrenaline was flowing and I could see his foot coming at me in slow motion, whereupon I put the knife into action. Dude halted his kick, but the motion was so quick that his shoe went flying over my shoulder and landed on the street.
My girlfriend was laughing at the guy and taunting him. I calmly told him that I was going to leave him right there and if he didn't want to get taken down he better not follow me.
It was a scary moment, and I was sober afterward. Really needed a drink, too.
When she's old enough I'm sending my kid to learn kung fu (for self-confidence, discipline, mental sharpness, and excercise) and make sure she doesn't grow up in a neighborhood where she has to learn how to fight, like I did.
