olympics3:practice, bowing, judo

Olympics3: practice, bowing
August 13-16, 2008

(1) I grew up with little interest in sports, and had virtually no interaction with the athletes in high school. Volleyball could be fun, as could baseball when played for fun with friends. But otherwise, it was me and my books. The closest I got to sports was the competition of chess.

No sweaty locker rooms for me – much better the exhileration and excitement of academic challenge. My greatest moment of athletic glory may have been instigating a lunchtime snowball fight on a rare day of Texas snowfall – then leading the pack in running away when a wayward snowball hit the school library window. After all, I worked as a librarian assistant in the afternoon. Thanks to that glorious sprint, I escaped unseen and slipped in to work safely a few minutes later. But that was it, my greatest athletic exertion for an entire school year.

Yet here I am for a month at the Beijing Olympics, having plunged headlong into the world’s largest and most important sports event, surrounded by athletes and those watching, recording, and cheering their performances.

I have just finished a several-day stint with a Japanese tech crew at the swimming venue. Most of my time has been spent ensconced in our makeshift cabin, tapping away at the computer, doing venue research, or cramming Chinese language. Once in a while trouble arises and then I get called in. Trouble arose only once today – 5 minutes before I was to finish work. It looked like a quick ten-minute job.

Two hours later, the problem remained unsolved but the contests were finished, so we returned to the cabin. No complaints, mind – it was my first chance for an extended look at the actual competition. And it turned out to be more interesting than I had expected.

The best part was the underwater turns where the swimmers kick off the wall and roll their bodies over underwater, captured perfectly with an underwater camera. The beginning also caught my eye – the preparation and readiness. The splash of a handful of water on the face, a final stretch, the crouching position, and the initial dive, followed by that underwater wiggle which precedes the first strokes.

The crowd, however, is looking for something different – all eyes are glued on the finish. They want the fastest, the strongest, and they use this as a measure for the best. My eyes are also drawn to the finish, but I cannot share the roar of the crowd, no matter which country’s athlete is drawing attention. Of course a huge cheer goes up whenever a Chinese athlete takes the floor – and a bigger cheer erupts whenever China nabs another medal.

Each country’s athletes have ardent supporters. Yet I don’t feel any special connection to the athletes from the States (or from Japan, for that matter). I have never felt any particular allegiance to athletes from a particular school, region, or what have you. Maybe that is part of the reason for my ongoing interest in the martial arts – all the practice, all the training, are for oneself, to challenge and improve oneself.

So what about judo, wrestling, tae kwan do, even boxing or fencing? Yes, I would have more interest in watching any of those (and not just the preparation and practice). But what I really want is not to watch it but to do it myself, to work on my own forms and motions….

(2) At the moment I am with a TV crew covering the final day of judo competition. My background is in karate and weapons-based Japanese martial arts – I lack experience in any grappling arts, Japanese or otherwise. So the world of judo is at once foreign and familiar to me.

Inside the arena, I watch a few bouts and am not terribly impressed, apart from the brilliance of a French judoka who is clearly a crowd favorite. Back in the cabin with all the equipment and wires, I glance up at the monitors occasionally and see one thing which greatly impresses me.

Tsukada Maki is doing extremely well, moving closer and closer to the finals. Her wins are not what grab me – it is her bowing. Before and after each match, her bows are sincere. I sense that judo is more budo than sport for her. I do not get that sense from many other competitors with their half-assed non-bows, like chickens pecking at something on the ground, thrusting or tipping the head forward an instant because the rules require some semblance of a bow.

Even if she had not been successful in terms of win-loss, I feel she would have been the real winner. And that she maintains her sense of respect and decorum on top of a winning record…well, all the better. I have the feeling she does judo for the practice moreso than for the victory.

Update – later that night, she lost the final round to Tong Wen of China. The crowd was worked up throughout the match, then surged as one to their feet when Tong won the bout.

My eyes were on Tsukada. I can’t imagine her disappointment, having come so close to the gold medal. It was over in an instant but what we saw in a flash must have passed so slowly for her, with the awareness that she had been thrown, that her body was about to crash into the mat below.

The referee gave the signal, both judoka returned to their starting positions, Tong’s arm was raised by the referee. And there was Tsukada – deep and sincere bows to her opponent, the referees…more than a victory or a medal, this sight gave me hope for the future of judo as something more than a sport focused solely on winning or losing.