9 odpowiedzi w tym temacie

[budo_fiodor]

spodobała mi się wstawka we flashu strony karate shotokan, zobaczcie sami:

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych Użytkowników]

[budo_jarek]

W górny pasku strony jest dwie postacie: jedna robi tsuki a druga blokuje shoto uke. Po pierwsze to taki bloku i gardy jest daleki od shotokan karate, nie mówiąc już o krótkich i zawiniętych ekawach dogi, a po drugie, zakładam się o obiad, że na zdjęciu wcześniej był Shigeru Oyama z bratem zanim ich pozbawili głów i oznaczeń stylowych
Nawet sobie obejrzałem pasek pod powiększeniem i jestem pewny.

[budo_lord von banan]

Niezła rzecz. Muzyka w tle po pierwsze takty piosenki Kim Carnes - Bette Davis eyes.

[budo_jarek]

Tak, ale generalnie stronka jest OK.

[budo_martius]

Niezla
zmienili caly layout
zreszta stronki w polskim necie zaczynaja coraz lepiej wygladac ... i bardzo dobrze

[budo_wesley]

Jarek to sa na bank bracia Oyama. Takie zdjecie jest na okladce ktoregos Samuraja.

Pozdrawiam

[budo_jarek]

Oglądałem filmy szkoleniowe Oyama i widziałem takie plakaty na czołówkach. Wiedziałem, że nie ma to nic wspólnego z shotokan karate.
Żenujace trochę.

[budo_kamikaze]

Jarek to sa na bank bracia Oyama. Takie zdjecie jest na okladce ktoregos Samuraja.

Pozdrawiam

No to Jarku możesz odetchnąć z ulgą- obiad zostaje u Ciebie

[budo_jarek]

Przeżyłbym
Najpierw dojo i heja a potem obiadek Niższe straty

[budo_piotrek_123]

Jakby Soshu Sigeru Oyama wiedzial ze reklamuje shotokan to by chyba dostal zawalu serca :wink:
A to kawalek z biografi Soshu S. Oyamy z czasow kiedy dopiero przyjechal do USA i mial uczyc ludzi, ktorzy wczesniej trenowali tradycyjne karate:
The black and brown belts began to return to the class after a week or so, but it wasn't out of respect for me. In fact, it was to show Richard how much better they were than me. They trained under my direction, but always, either before or after class, they would gather in front of the mirrors that lined the walls and show off their fancy fighting techniques. Then they would look over at me and smile, to let me know they could be doing those things to me.

caught them looking at me, but I never changed expression. The other students began to worry, wondering what was going to happen to me. They could tell a showdown was coming. Finally, I felt ready. I felt powerful again, in such top physical condition that I felt I could beat anybody, even a monster like Frankenstein. It was as if every hair on my head, every toe on both feet, was bursting with power.

I was ready to fight, and fight them all ­ all the showoffs, the cocky guys who liked to watch themselves in the mirror. I wanted them first.

That night, at the end of class, I told all the students, "After the next class, we will free fight. Free fight only."

The result was as if someone had turned on an electrical current in the room. The students began to look at each other and whisper. Some looked at me to see if I was kidding. Some were obviously worried for me.

The black and brown belts just smiled.

The night of the fight, I felt great. I expected a full class, and I was not disappointed. There were eighty-eight students, including twenty-three black and brown belts. That suited me just fine. It would allow me to finish the matter once and for all.

Word had gone out around the city, and the visitors' area was packed. Of course, Richard, George, Mr. W and Sam were all there. Doris, the physical fitness instructor also showed up. In fact, all the front office people and instructors of the exercise classes stopped what they were doing to crowd into the dojo. There were so many people that there was hardly a place left to stand in the dojo that night.

I began class with exercise, and then told all the students to line up around the walls. With so many there, the line of students was two deep.

I told everybody that I hoped they could understand my funny English, and that we were going to fight. I bit off each word as it left my mouth, quickly and powerfully. I said that I was going to fight everyone, and pointed at each of the black and brown belts to make sure they understood.

My first target was a black belt named Harry. He was about 6-foot-2 and weighted about 225 pounds; he was very muscular and very hairy. He wore his dogi so that the hair on his chest stuck out, and he had made no secret of being proud of his body.

I had watched him training, and knew his favorite technique. He positioned himself in what is called a horse-back stance: feet a little wider than shoulder width and standing sideways to the person he was fighting.

Harry was not very quick side to side, but he was very fast coming straight at his opponent. He liked to front kick, front fist to the face, grab his opponent's dogi, do a right hand reverse punch to the body and then a throwing technique. His body was very tight, but he was so powerful that he usually intimidated anyone he faced.

So I walked out to the middle of the dojo and pointed to him and said, "Come over here."

He stood up and put a mouthpiece in place.

That was the first time I had seen one of them wear a mouthpiece. In a dojo fight, you are supposed to be careful not to hit the other person's face because they have to go to school or work the next day. But if Harry put in a mouthpiece, that meant he was going to go for my face. Looking around at the other students, I realized they all had mouthpieces. I decided then that I would still punch and kick only to the body, but if that didn't work, I would go for the face, too.

Harry came out to face me, and we bowed. He took a step back, assuming his fighting stance. I raised both my hands into the air, slid my left foot forward and brought my hands into fighting position. As I did, I let out a loud, "Ee-shai," a sound never before heard in this dojo. It comes from deep inside the body and serves the same purpose as a dog growling before the attack.

Then I looked him in the eye and said, "Ko-I," which is like saying "Come on." It is a Japanese word, and it came out almost instinctively. My heart was very calm, my breathing under control, but my body was on fire. I squeezed my elbows into my sides, and was ready.

Harry looked into my eyes and took one step back. I knew then that I had him.

I came at him, and he slid back again. I made a little shoulder fake, like I was going to move around behind him to his left, and he twisted ever so slightly that way. Then, with my right hand, I quickly hooked Harry's left hand and pushed it down, stepped back to his right so that I was directly in front of him, and hit him with a straight left hand into his unprotected chest. I could feel the power in that punch, which forced him to twist his body even further to the left and expose himself more. I hit him again with all my power: a right hand directly to the middle of his chest, with a loud "Ee-shai" as I struck. I felt my whole body go with that punch, as good a punch as I'd ever thrown.

I heard Harry gasp for air, back up a step, and fall down among the students who lined the walls. The dojo was deathly quiet. There was no movement, not even the blink of an eye.

Then suddenly there was the sound of everyone releasing the breath they had been holding.

I grabbed Harry and pulled him back out on the floor. I tried to make him stand up, but he wouldn't get up. He was on all fours, hanging his head and gasping for air. I tried once more to pick him up, but he just fell down.

I don't know why, but I spoke in Japanese and said, "Do-shi-ta," which means, "What's the matter with you?" I said it very contemptuously. Harry's face was white. He waved his hand, as if to let me know he needed to sit down. I knew I needed to drive my point home, though. For ten days he had mocked me, and now I watched him heaving on his hands and knees like a dog.

I reached down to pull his head up by his hair and slapped his face hard. The force of the blow knocked his mouthpiece all the way across the room, and his nose exploded in blood.

I told the students to take him away.

There were more than a hundred people packed in that room, but no one, not Richard, George, or Mr. W., said a word. There was only silence.

I pointed at the next black belt, whose name was Tony. He was black, but after seeing what happened to Harry, his color was much paler.

Tony was a very graceful fighter, with beautiful technique. I knew I would have to be more careful with him.

We faced each other and bowed. I stepped forward and again yelled, "Ed-shai," but Tony was already backing up, determined to stay away from me.

Tony was a head taller than me, and weighed 190 pounds. To me, that night, he looked small. He tried front snap kicks and roundhouse kicks, but since he was always backing away, his pretty kicks never came close to reaching me.

Finally, I chased him into a corner. He was facing me, with his left foot forward. I faked right, jumped inside his guard and, pushing his left hand farther to this left, grabbed his dogi up near the back of his neck with my left hand. Pulling him forward, I brought my left knee up and into his stomach. I could feel my knee go all the way through to his back. Tony dropped flat, with the wind completely knocked out of him.

The next black belt yelled as if he was really attacking, but he, too, ran away from me. I chased him and chased him until finally I cornered him. Before I could do anything, he jumped at me ­ no technique better than pure fear ­ and grabbed my dogi, hoping to tackle me. As he jumped, he tried to force me backwards, so I used his forward momentum to head-butt him in the face. He fell backwards, clutching his bleeding mouth. The impact of my forehead into his face was so strong that I was stunned for a moment, and could see nothing but stars.

His mouth started to bubble with blood, and the other students ran from him, he was such a mess.

So it went. I fought all of the black belts, and beat each one decisively. Then I started on the brown belts. By this time, the dojo was alive with activity ­ spectators taking the losers to the bathroom to clean them up or, in some cases, taking them to the hospital. Small children in the visitors' area were crying, and the people that had been afraid for me were now almost afraid of me. My dogi was covered in sweat, and spotted with the blood of the black and brown belts, but I kept going.

As I got to the lower ranking students, I changed tactics. I used mostly defense, not wanting to hurt them. They, after all, had been willing to learn from me all along.

I fought eighty-eight students that night, and could have fought more. I think that everyone at some time in life reaches a point where he feels that anything is possible, that all the possibilities of the world are open right then. That night, I had that feeling.

After I had fought the last student, I told everyone, black and brown belts included, to take off their color belts and put on white ones, signifying a beginners rank. No one argued.

At the end of class, everyone came up to shake my hand. Richard, George, and Mr. W looked at me that night as if for the first time, and I could see the respect in their eyes. Everybody wanted to shake my hand and, by the next day, my name was all over town.

The next week, about half the students quit. Richard was upset, but didn't complain to me. He knew I could handle American students now.

I felt like the door to my future was wide open. Now I could really begin to train in karate, and teach my students well. More importantly, I knew that I needed to continue my own training. I couldn't get lazy. I knew that I was going to need to know more technique, build more power, and get into ever better shape.