The boy's been training at judo for a bit over a year. He would periodically have grading exams. To prepare he would invite his mother to the living room and practise throwing her onto the carpet. It is a jute carpet, somewhat painful to land on, and the boy was at times enthusiastic. He would utter strange cries such as 'Kenzaburo' and 'Niigata' and, occasionally, 人生は大きなリンゴです. I am not entirely sure so don't quote me.
At the end of his first year, his coach organised a competition among all the kids of his class. Each kid would have a bout against every other, and a gold and silver medal would go to the ones who were most successful in pinning down their opponents. Everybody else would get a bronze.
In his first two or three bouts, the boy was kind and obliging. He was pulled onto the mat by his opponent, and he obligingly lay still so they could pin him down. Then he pulled them down and they reciprocated his favour. Meanwhile, other kids were going at it with gusto and the air was filled with flailing bodies.
In the last bout, the boy sat on his opponent, having used his superior weight to some effect, but was not able to finish. The other fellow sprang up and the two pulled and pushed each other, and then we were treated to the glorious sight of a perfect throw, and my boy went flying. He travelled a metre or so and landed with an 'ufff' and the room burst into applause. It was easily the most spectacular throw of the day, and although I felt bad for my little chap, I had to concede - the throw was a beaut. Was it a beaut? Yes, it was indeed a beaut.
At the start of his coaching this term, his grandparents decided to watch him in action. If you thought the long summer of masterly inactivity or indeed the memory of being painfully tossed would have slowed the chap down, you thought wrong. 'I am going to take down ten people,' he announced to the grandparents. And he went at his classmates with a vengeance.
Two kids immediately retired hurt, clutching at their ears. Another, nearly two years older and a foot taller, retreated holding his head. One of the girls who has so far been better than anyone else in the class sat down with a nosebleed. (The boy said it wasn't his doing - she had had nosebleeds before.) Three kids were in tears. The boy strutted about like Tai Lung.
Interestingly, the sensei didn't say a thing. Par for the course? We took the fellow aside after the lessons. 'A little gentler next time?' we suggested. 'I told you I would take down ten people,' the boy protested. 'Yes, you did,' we agreed, 'but perhaps you could be gentler next time?'
'Okay,' he said. And so far he has been true to his word.
At the end of his first year, his coach organised a competition among all the kids of his class. Each kid would have a bout against every other, and a gold and silver medal would go to the ones who were most successful in pinning down their opponents. Everybody else would get a bronze.
In his first two or three bouts, the boy was kind and obliging. He was pulled onto the mat by his opponent, and he obligingly lay still so they could pin him down. Then he pulled them down and they reciprocated his favour. Meanwhile, other kids were going at it with gusto and the air was filled with flailing bodies.
In the last bout, the boy sat on his opponent, having used his superior weight to some effect, but was not able to finish. The other fellow sprang up and the two pulled and pushed each other, and then we were treated to the glorious sight of a perfect throw, and my boy went flying. He travelled a metre or so and landed with an 'ufff' and the room burst into applause. It was easily the most spectacular throw of the day, and although I felt bad for my little chap, I had to concede - the throw was a beaut. Was it a beaut? Yes, it was indeed a beaut.
******
At the start of his coaching this term, his grandparents decided to watch him in action. If you thought the long summer of masterly inactivity or indeed the memory of being painfully tossed would have slowed the chap down, you thought wrong. 'I am going to take down ten people,' he announced to the grandparents. And he went at his classmates with a vengeance.
Two kids immediately retired hurt, clutching at their ears. Another, nearly two years older and a foot taller, retreated holding his head. One of the girls who has so far been better than anyone else in the class sat down with a nosebleed. (The boy said it wasn't his doing - she had had nosebleeds before.) Three kids were in tears. The boy strutted about like Tai Lung.
Interestingly, the sensei didn't say a thing. Par for the course? We took the fellow aside after the lessons. 'A little gentler next time?' we suggested. 'I told you I would take down ten people,' the boy protested. 'Yes, you did,' we agreed, 'but perhaps you could be gentler next time?'
'Okay,' he said. And so far he has been true to his word.
2 comments:
Does he take after his father or mother?
At the moment he appears to take after characters in Kung Fu Panda.
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