Grand Slam 6:7 (10/23/2002) in Keeping Safe

Once most of the effluent and debris from behind the broken dam had flushed its way downstream, I was able to re-surface and gasp for air in the arms of the assistant. He told me in a soft voice that he was proud of me, that I had successfully defended that little boy from twenty-eight years ago, that the little boy was now safe, and that I should keep that little boy close by me always, so that he would remain safe since I now knew that I could defend him.

One fight had gone by while I was underwater, and I rejoined in time to watch the fight following it already in progress. During all of the fights over Saturday and Sunday everyone on the line was encouraged to cheer on the student currently fighting, and to shout suggestions as well. The cheers and shouts were loudest of all during the custom fights. In addition, after the series, one of the male instructors came up to me and said that my fight had been intense and clean.

Following the last custom fight, one last series of fights, termed “cleanup fights”, were staged. During this period, the fight started with the student taken from behind, but the student could request that the fight include moves with which the student felt he needed more practice. In most cases, the fight was left to “mugger’s choice”; in my case, I requested the bear hug with arms trapped, as I felt I wasn’t proficient enough with it as yet. It went fine: I was taken from behind, I allowed the mugger to take me to the floor, where I then hunched his arms up to my mouth, yelled “BITE!” whereupon one of his arms came free, my elbow went into his face, I spun out onto my side and chambered for the kicks to finish the fight.

When this series was finished, we broke for lunch, and a monitor was set up so that we could view our custom fights. When my fight came, I watched it all the way through; it was a thing of stark raw beauty. The assistant filming the fights stopped after each fight, resuming only at the beginning of the next one. I saw mine, then got to see the next one I had missed while under; I did hear myself far off on the soundtrack.

After lunch, the videotape was taken away to be destroyed, and the training center was set up for the only public session of the retreat: the graduation ceremony, to which a number of us had invited guests. Another videotape was to be made, this one for sale to us, if we should so desire to have a copy for posterity’s sake. A number of friends and relatives arrived, some of whom were previous graduates. Three series of fights were staged, including “walk-by” (shoulder/arm/ass grab), “walk-away” (taken from behind), and “floor” (face-up or face-down, eyes closed, mugger on top, open eyes and start when mugger says something). Every student finished each fight, despite the fact there was no script at all: sometimes there was just one mugger, sometimes two muggers would tag-team (one would go down, then the other would join the fight), and on one occasion while one mugger was fighting, another came over and stood in the line - and when the first fight finished, the mugger in line started in on the student next to him - that student promptly finished that fight as well. In addition to all of this mayhem, on one or two occasions a mugger went into the audience and tried to take down a previous graduate (with, no doubt, that graduate’s knowledge and permission) - the graduate finished her fight too.

Our last “NO” circle became, at someone’s suggestion, a “YES” circle. The question was asked if anyone had anything to which they wanted to say “YES”; I responded that I wanted to say “YES” to using my fear, instead of allowing my fear to use me.

After the graduation ceremony finished and the guests went outside, we had one last sharing circle with Kleenex box/talking stick. Many shared their feelings over how glad they were to have come so far, as well as made affirmative comments about other students and instructors. Most (including me) followed with hugs all around, and then preparations were made to leave.

I hitched a ride into San Francisco with another student; he dropped me off on 16th St between Valencia and Guerrero. He said it was reasonably safe, as long as I didn’t walk more than a couple blocks north of there. The neighborhood itself included a little bit of everything: urban professionals, working class, homeless, and beggars. I understand there might have been some drug activity there too, but I didn’t see or feel anything to confirm that.

While walking down the street trying to locate a coffee shop with Internet machinery, I happened upon a conflict in progress. Two men were yelling at each other… something that would have raised my hackles before this past weekend, but now I could see that no weapons were evident, no punches were being thrown, and the situation was indeed burning itself out. As a result I was safe to walk down the same sidewalk alongside the combatants, with no harm done by anyone. I located a coffee shop, where I then sat down and composed “I Defended a Boy Today”, and enjoyed a cup of good San Francisco coffee.

Last updated January 19, 2015