- 88% of local police agencies in the United States are staffed with fewer than 100 officers.
- 47.7% of the local police agencies in the country have fewer than ten officers.
- Most of the agencies with the biggest perceived racial problems are actually in the 1.2% – agencies with 250 or more officers. I think you will find all these agencies are run by the Democratic party, and for many, many years.
- Only 40% of the New York City Police Department is white.
- 58% of the Atlanta Police Department is black.
- Chicago PD has 904 Latinos, 902 white officers and 443 African Americans.
- According to the recent U.S. Census Bureau, 12.3% of the U.S. population is black, and 12.5% is Hispanic.
- Then inside this 14.6%, how many of the 14 or 15% Afro-Americans in the USA want to be cops? Very few people in general, of any race, want to become cops as. It is hard to recruit black officers to the high percentages the public demands or perceives. The numbers tell you this as well as my friends in recruiting and police academies through the decades. It is hard to hit quotas!
“In Combatives, self defense and Krav Maga we should not spend exorbitant amounts of time hitting bags and mitts with big boxing gloves. It is ‘off-mission.’ We need to take things from boxing, but not with ‘big-boxing-gloves.’ When we fight crime and war we will be bare knuckle. Our bare hands and bare wrists will be unprepared. At very least train with MMA gloves.” – Hock
Any time this boxing glove topic comes up. I always wait for the comments on the open hand versus closed fist punching, etc. Closed fist punching and hammer-fists can occur on the torso, on the arms, on the neck on the lower jaw (because the jaw “gives” and the head can “give” on the neck. The danger zone is really, consistently the general, bicycle helmet area of the head/skull.
And heads drop when one detects an incoming blow. But, history is replete with successful bare-knuckle punching. Even my history (except for an uppercut once to a pointy jaw which led to a small hand surgery years later. Open hand strikes and elbow strikes are not without injuries also.) The sole point of this meme/photo being, when you train with big boxing gloves, you lose and miss a lot of important survival, experience, info and preparation. (Unless you are a boxer-boxer who boxes-boxes. Then the boxing gloves are very important.)
I know people with “cinder-block” hands. Let them hit tanks. I always think it is important for instructors, a system, to examine the hands of a practitioner and make an evaluation of “should they even punch? Should they be much of a puncher?” Rather than throw folks indiscriminately, small and fragile hands alike, into a crowd to punch away with everyone else, like I have seen in many martial arts. Most have no regard for the their student’s hands, and never looked at them, and never mention what might happen where you hit bones/people with them. Just punch, punch, punch away in the air or on soft things. Or, under the guise of self-defense, wrap and strap big gloves on them and let them for 5, 10, 15 minutes a class, let them mindlessly pepper away on a heavy bag, or…or have them hit focus mitts in endless, endless “show” patterns that don’t or won’t remotely match the actual responses of a real opponent. (People who teach kids can’t make these hand-fist assessments because their hands aren’t formed yet.)
You can work on punching impacts for survival short of having hand tumors and arthritis in your old age. Does punching hard things make your hands stronger? “Punching walls could theoretically improve hand strength by increasing bone density over time, but the chance of breaking your hands is extremely high. A better alternative would be to practice hitting the heavy bag bare knuckle, and increase the force over time.” – CombatMuseum.com
Hit smart things. I have come to appreciate these water bag options. To me, they have a “fleshy” feel. Different sizes available.
Boxing gloves are for boxing, but I also use them as a tool to hit-on/distract practitioners while they are doing chores like pulling weapons, be they standing or on the ground, etc. under stress. Specific things like that. They are handy to have around for specific assignments.
MMA gloves are fine. Especially for extended use (and their open fingers allow for grappling). Big-ass boxing gloves are perfect for big-ass boxing. Even “official” bare-knuckle fighters still wrap their wrists. Sometimes I see them run a layer over their knuckles too, but mostly their wrists.
But my mission, the mission of combatives, the mission of self defense and Krav is NOT to create competition boxers or MMA fighters or bare-knuckle competitors. Nor do I make wrestling-only champs. I am not making pro boxers or pro kick boxers, people who square off and exchange blows in multiple timed rounds. In our world, we also kick a few nuts, face maul and hair pull too and throw chairs.
There are seriously off-mission, misguiding doctrines/schools out there. Be what you are supposed to be and not what you are not.
For example, I know a quite famous combatives guy, who spends a few hours covering boxing with big gloves in his combatives seminars. Attendees mindlessly do and accept. Not good. It’s only good if in his fliers, his ads for those seminars, he advertises-
“Self defense combatives AND a very special session on sport boxing.”
Okay then. Explained. Couple that with an intro reminder speech before the boxing session. Then he is on-mission. No mixed doctrines. Or say the lesson plan calls for “classic boxing applications for self defense moves” (in which case, take off those damn big gloves!) Back on mission.
I have attended a few Joe Lewis (the kickboxer) seminars and he has a great line, “Nothing replaces ring-time.” Which I repeat. Getting in there and kick boxing a bit (not just boxing alone) and I agree with this experience. We do that as part of every Force Necessary: Hand test, but again, I am not making pro kick boxers. I don’t expect to see an Olympic sports performance. (I suggest people fool around with MMA over just boxing alone and just BBJ alone. MMA is bigger and better and does both. Take tips from it.)
Worth saying twice, there are seriously off-mission, mindless, misguiding doctrines out there. Be what you are supposed to be and not what you are not. Who, what, where, when, how and why. It is a hand, stick, knife, gun world, inside and outside of buildings in rural, suburban and urban environments.
Popular Science wants to inform you on how to properly, bare-knuckle punch Click here
How to condition your knuckles: A guide to harden your fists for fighting. Click here
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
Since the 1980s I have been training police, rookies as well as “in service” officers in the “mechanics of arrest.” Not just in the USA but as far away as the UK, Europe and Australia. I’ve seen numerous things come and go, in and out, accepted and outlawed. And a big outlaw has been, the “choke.” I was asked this question the other day about…the “police choke.”
“Hock…I had the feeling when I initially saw the Atlanta situation that if the cop behind wasn’t afraid to use some type of choke/neck restraint…the guy might still be alive. Thoughts? I feel like they’re limiting police officers in a way that makes it more dangerous for certain people. If a cop is forced to pull and fire his weapon 10 times, it’s likely that 7-8 criminals will die. If that same cop chooses a blood choke 10 times (currently seemingly banned), it’s unlikely that any of the 10 would die. Again…thoughts?” – Joe Thoele, USA.
Well, yes, Joe. Chokes were a go-to move in my day, when times got tough. But, I have only completely choked out maybe…maybe 10, 12 maybe, 15 people in 26 years and hundreds of arrests. The restraint, capture alone worked many more times, especially when help arrived. The classic rear choke with leg wrapping “grapevines” is worth a million bucks to me. Only one of those times did I do a choke in a lethal force, self defense situation, when a guy was grabbing for my pistol. We were fighting on top of furniture, horizontal, but not an official “ground fight.” He passed out from the choke after I tried to knock him out and just couldn’t knock him out. It was a blood choke. When they go spazzy and-or drop-out limp, let them go, (and by the way, that is one, “street” counter to a choke. Fake unconsciousness.) He, like the others, woke up in handcuffs.
You have, as I like to nickname them in courses. “Electricity, water and wind” attacks to the neck.
* Electricity: Strikes to the back and side of the neck to upset the “electricity” to the brain. No choking.
* Water: blood chokes and strikes to the sides of the neck.
* Wind: air chokes and strikes to the front of the neck (that might crush body parts.).
So far, forearms and hammer fists to the back of the neck are still taught in most police training. Striking the sides and certainly the front of neck are now officially problematic and for most agencies, a “no-go.” This might crush the windpipe or loosen and free up vein plague and send it in the blood vessels to the brain. (This has rarely happened, but rare is enough in paranoid, police work). But police chokes, not police strikes are today’s topic!
We can get kind of sloppy taking about the word “choke.” It means different things to different people. Let’s look at some official definitions…
*Chokehold: a tight grip around a person’s neck, used to restrain them by restricting their breathing.
*Carotid restraint, an officer applies pressure to vascular veins to temporarily cut off blood flow to the brain, rendering the person unconscious. The carotid technique is different from a chokehold, in which pressure is put on the front of the neck and throat, cutting off air.
*Neck Restraint: “Non-deadly force option. Defined as compressing one or both sides of a person’s neck with an arm or leg, without applying direct pressure to the trachea or airway (front of the neck).” A blood choke. (In some places a forearm placed upon the lower neck, high chest, holding someone back, or pulling them back, or taking them down to the ground would be considered a neck restraint.)
*Positional asphyxia, also known as postural asphyxia, is a form of asphyxia which occurs when someone’s position prevents the person from breathing adequately.
Words, huh? Terms. I am reminded that in the old Army basic training, these were all called “strangles.” A few months later in the military police academy these same things were all called “chokes,” as strangles were too rough a term for policing. Now we see the word, “neck restraints” as chokes are too rough a term. But, I think many people just think of and call all of these events, simply, “chokes.” A sloppy, loose nickname for chokes can cause arguments. But fights/arrests can get sloppy, with all the wiggles, waggles, twist and turns of an arrest, wrestling match your neck restraints can accidentally slip into official chokes. You first meant to do a neck restraint/control, you were trying to, but with twist and a waggle, you’re on his windpipe, then you are filmed on the nightly news doing a wind choke. Then it’s…as we use to say, a “Dear Chief” letter, explaining why you air choked someone on TV or phone video on social media, against department policy. Nowadays, you might be fired within 24 hours.
People in martial training like to remind and complain about restrictions by saying that “chokes” are done “all the time in class” without problems. But, remember that martial students (that includes all systems, citizens, police, military) usually acquire the choke positions without truly crushing the neck. It’s practice on friends! Secondly, students in practice feel the capture, a little pressure and “tap-out” before they pass out. Actual, full unconsciousness is not achieved regularly in classes, certainly not anymore, unlike the crush of a real fight or an arrest. Even in UFC fights, the captured frequently tap-out when they know they are caught. (Since the 1970s while I have been knocked out in classes, but I have never once been fully choked out in any JKD, jujitsu or Shoot class or seminar. People around me have, usually accidentally, and they were quickly “slapped” awake.)
Positional asphyxia has also been a well-known in martial arts and in modern, trained police work, for I’ll say, 25 years now. I worked positional asphyxia cases as a detective and private investigator as early as the 1990s. It is surprising to me that police officers anywhere are not aware of these problems. I did a police presentation on chokes once on the growing limitations on police choking, and one officer shouted that his agency still allowed chokes and therefore my whole premise was wrong, as if the Podunk Police Department was the end-all to policing.
“We still choke!”
I quickly checked the web on the next break to find that his department was quite small and quite “country,” and was recently sued THREE times for choking people, one a school cop choked out a teenager. Each involved big, news scandals in the area, especially the teenager incident. Just wait, Podunk. But…so… I am sure there are pockets of the country and pockets of police officers untrained and unaware of the problems with asphyxia, chokes and restraints. Sad. Shocking to me. But so.
Allow me to add one more definition here. Excited delirium is “broadly defined as a state of agitation, excitability, paranoia, aggression, and apparent immunity to pain, often associated with stimulant use and certain psychiatric disorders. “These folks, once arrested have a tendency to die later, in custody. Officers are immediately questioned about what horrible thing did they do to cause the death? “Did you dare choke him? Did you crush him at any point? Are the questions usually asked of the arresting officers.They are usually cleared by the autopsies.
So, worth mentioning, drugs, alcohol, medical conditions, poor health, being overweight contribute to bad results combined with “choking,” Officer Brett Gould reminds us that, “The issue is not just the vascular restraint. The 14 percent of the population that fight the police, thus composing a high percent of the prison population coincidentally, also has the highest rate of alcoholism, substance abuse, high blood pressure and diabetes.“
This news doesn’t really help the “choke” cause for decision makers these days, but rather hurts it. Police admin, lawyers, politicians, insurance backers and media must think, “If that’s who the cops are fighting? Then it’s no wonder they die from chokes. We can’t have all that choking going on.” (I know how they think.) Look at this negative with tear gas –
“Military studies performed in the 1950s classified CS as nonlethal. But experts today say these studies had limitations in design and applicability and should be treated with some skepticism. “Tear gas is designed to disperse and irritate. But it was designed and first used in an era when it was assumed it would be used against healthy, working-age males,” says Dan Kaszeta, who studies protection against chemical and biological weapons and has spent some of his 30-year career in the U.S. Army’s Chemical Corps and the Secret Service. Lab studies have not revealed the effects tear gas can have on other demographics or people with preexisting conditions.
So you see, tear gas, like chokes, suddenly becomes a political “no-go.”
And still, “chokes” are not COMPLETELY taboo and illegal. What is still legally mandated, even in President Trump’s recent June, 2020, “no-choke” order, you will read that a choke, air or blood, can still be used in lethal, threat, self defense, as I did with the guy trying to get my gun. “Fear of life” kind of deal. All those other chokes I did that I mentioned above were not done in such dire fear, just arrest routine versus the resisting, and today’s modern admins would expect me to not choke out them and do something else, something which may be more time-consuming and even dangerous. But we’re cops, life is supposed to suck.
And with the optics, the lawsuits, the media, training officers to choke/restraint will disappear, even if legal in lethal force situations. They probably just won’t know how to choke anyone. No will will want to teach the subject. Oh, there probably will be rare, “certified” courses in “Last Resort Choking,” but who will get to go? And, maybe it can “secretly” be taught in official “Escaping Choke” classes? Because after all – to escape chokes you have to learn what chokes are and how the “bad guys” use them? (We have long tricked police admin with this bait-and-switch approach, trick.) I don’t know how it will all work out?
I have been paid to write reports and studies about chokes and restraints for admins through the years. And the end conclusion of chiefs, sheriffs, directors and command staffs is – “any squeezing (and striking) around the neck” sides and front, is already taboo, or rapidly becoming taboo. Media nightmare. It’s just too hot a topic. It’s a no-go. In the end, police agency insurance companies and lawyers really call the real shots. They are always paranoid and timid. They dictate and influence the politics and police leaders. Management fears being fired. Sued.
Decades ago, my agency and a new police chief instituted Community Oriented Policing. It was all based on public perceptions and therefore public relations. Whatever the public perceived is what we had to tackle. It didn’t matter what the real crime rate was, if the perception of crime was high we had to manufacture programs to ease their mind. It didn’t matter what the real safety was, if the perception of safety was low we had to manufacture programs to ease their mind. These same issues count too. Things like “police racism” and with…chokes. Its all about perception. Not reality, just perception. So often junked up by the thinking disorder minds of the media, the unscientific, the emotional and the immature. I am pessimistic now and have been, about perception and police “choking.”
This essay was about police. This has not been about the civilian world…yet. I don’t want to argue with anyone here about air, blood chokes and neck restraints. I will always teach them. Every martialist needs to know them and know how to escape them. I think they are very handy, but they will go away in official, police training and use. Make no mistake, if retired, 67-year-old, civilian me gets into a fight tomorrow that I can’t talk my way out of? Or get away? One thing I will seriously be looking to do is choke the bastard out. Especially if fallen on the ground. I’d like not to kill anybody and the choke is over when the resistance stops, like I was taught about 50 years ago in the first police academy I attended.
For more reading…
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
Martial Arts School Names, Death Cults and Bad Business.
(Palace Intrigue Report # 386 or “How I shot myself in the foot with a bad name.”)
For 30 years now, and 24 of those under my own namesake, I’ve been in the business of teaching martial material and once in a while official martial arts – as people like to know and do the arts I have studied, and they ask me about them. I have spent, I think, disproportionate time in Chinese, Japanese and Filipino systems. Through a microscope, looking glass, I’ve spied on the connection of “businesses” and “hobbies” and “arts” and school names.
I am a traveling circus. I have stumbled upon the business-school names around the world that are…well…not wise or good. They might well have been passable in 1960s or 70s or maybe the 80s. Some schools and systems have been named after the worst historical things. Lord knows in the modern times of today, the tiptoeing around everyone and everything can multiply bad names and bad ideas into even worse problems and failures.
It always surprises me to see certain school and system names, and logos modeled after the worst choices. Like crazy death cults or negative things that just a moment of research would uncover. Things like…
Juramentado, in Philippine history, refers to a male Moro swordsman who attacked and killed targeted occupying and invading police and soldiers, expecting to be killed himself, the martyrdom undertaken as a form of jihad, considered a form of suicide attack. For generations warlike Moro tribes had successfully prevented Spain from fully controlling the areas around Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago, developing a well-earned reputation as notorious seafaring raiders, adept naval tacticians, and ferocious warriors who frequently demonstrated extraordinary personal bravery in combat. While Moro forces could never match opponents’ firepower or armor, such bands used intelligence, audacity and mobility to raid strongly defended targets and quickly defeat more vulnerable ones. One extreme asymmetric warfare tactic was the Moro juramentado. A Moro might be said to have “gone juramentado” or be “running juramentado.” This is not a good name for school or system. Or, like the next one – Amok
Amok or Running Amok, sometimes referred to as simply amok or having gone amok, also spelled amuck or amuk, is the act of behaving disruptively or uncontrollably. The word derives from Southeast Asian Austronesian languages (especially Malaysian and Indonesian), traditionally meaning “an episode of sudden mass assault against people or objects usually by a single individual following a period of brooding that has traditionally been regarded as occurring especially in Malay culture but is now increasingly viewed as psycho-pathological behavior”. The syndrome of “Amok” is found in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV TR). The phrase is often used in a less serious manner when describing something that is wildly out of control or causing a frenzy (e.g., a dog tearing up the living room furniture might be termed as “running amok”). This or something like it, is not a good name for school or system.
Beserkers. “In the Old Norse written corpus, berserkers were those who were said to have fought in a trance-like fury, a characteristic which later gave rise to the modern English word berserk (meaning “furiously violent or out of control”). Berserkers are attested to in numerous Old Norse sources. To “go berserk” was to “hamask”, which translates as “change form”, in this case, as with the sense “enter a state of wild fury.” For example, the band of men who go with Skallagrim in Egil’s Saga to see King Harald about his brother Thorolf’s murder are described as “the hardest of men, with a touch of the uncanny about a number of them … they [were] built and shaped more like trolls than human beings.”
I’ll ask of the berserks, you tasters of blood,
Those intrepid heroes, how are they treated,
Those who wade out into battle?
Wolf-skinned they are called. In battle
They bear bloody shields.
Red with blood are their spears when they come to fight.
They form a closed group.
The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men
Who hack through enemy shields.
This name, or something like it, is not a good name for school or system.
The Boxers of the Boxer Rebellion “In 1900, in what became known as the Boxer Rebellion (or the Boxer Uprising), a Chinese secret organization called the Society of the Righteous and Harmonious Fists led an uprising in northern China against the spread of Western and Japanese influence there. The rebels, referred to by Westerners as Boxers because they performed physical exercises they believed would make them able to withstand bullets, killed foreigners and Chinese Christians and destroyed foreign property. From June to August, the Boxers besieged the foreign district of Beijing (then called Peking).” – History.com
Kamikaze. [kamiꜜkaze]; “divine wind” or “spirit wind”), officially Tokubetsu Kōgekitai “Special Attack Unit”). I add this here because it is like a death cult, and I have actually seen it used as a course name years ago. It’s gone now in its own self-fulfilling, prophecy . In WW II, they were a part of the Japanese Special Attack Units of military aviators who initiated suicide attacks for the Empire of Japan against Allied naval vessels in the closing stages of the Pacific campaign of World War II, designed to destroy warships more effectively than possible with conventional air attacks. About 3,800 kamikaze pilots died during the war, and more than 7,000 naval personnel were killed by kamikaze attacks. Kamikaze aircraft were essentially pilot-guided explosive missiles, purpose-built or converted from conventional aircraft. Pilots would attempt to crash their aircraft into enemy ships in what was called a “body attack” (tai-atari) in planes loaded with a combination of explosives, bombs, and torpedoes. Accuracy was much higher than that of conventional attacks, and the payload and explosion larger; about 19% of kamikaze attacks were successful. A kamikaze could sustain damage that would disable a conventional attacker and still achieve its objective. The goal of crippling or destroying large numbers of Allied ships, particularly aircraft carriers, was considered by the Empire of Japan to be a just reason for sacrificing pilots and aircraft. This name, or something like it, is not a good name for school or system.
Forgive me for cutting and pasting and for not listing references. These are just a few collections of sources. If you are really interested in any of these topics you can search the internet and easily find articles and books on the subjects. I just did a quick “catch and release” for a fast tour, fast reading here. Do look it all up.
As for system and course names, I always imagine a worst case scenario where you are on the stand in a criminal trial against you and the prosecutor asks you what martial art course you study, and then for the jury, you have to name and define it.
“Well, it’s about going crazy and killing everyone, even yourself…”
You might chose to remain silent of course, but rest assured, the police, the prosecutors and the grand jury have heard all about your hobbies and associates. It’ll get into the trial, one way or another.
This names, or some names like them, are not good names for schools or systems.
The business, name-game is tricky, tricky, tricky. I am well aware it might even be harder in the martial business. I notice that many store fronts these days just say “martial arts.” Decades ago, it might have said only, “Karate.” Safe. Boring, but safe. To get past boring, sometimes you think you are representing coolness, counter-cultures, fads and ultimate macho-ism, but your business, club, and hobby names may get you on a government watch list.
Don’t pick a bad name. Don’t join a bad group. If you have? Change it. (I myself am inching away from the word “combatives.”) Change it. If not? You are shooting yourself in the foot, as they say, or you might start a new gun group called “Foot Shooters Anonymous.” You can use “anonymous” in the title because no one will know who you are or what you do. And, you’ll also have a limp.
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
(Me and Howard Kelly, an old newspaper photo, circa 1983)
And thus we have George Floyd. I have not taken a deep dive in the George Floyd particulars. Why was he kept on the street/traffic side? This is never done. Cops themselves are always worried about being run-over. Why was he not cuffed and back-seated? Was there a white cop, a black cop, and an Asian cop there? What was his initial crime? Counterfeiting? It seems to be minor crime, but it’s hidden away in the follow-up, media outrages. Seems he was on an array of drugs, which screws up a lot things. He did resist. But, lots of people being arrested resist. We both get beat up a little. Life sucks. “Cop-life” sucks. “Thug-life” sucks, But, you don’t usually DIE. In a very odd, bizarre way? We’re both in this together. We’re both in this mess together. Playing out the parts. Running the dialogue lines. The good guys are supposed to win out.
Heroes are not prejudiced. Heroes solve problems. Be the hero. So, to you rookies out there, since Howard isn’t around to preach, don’t be stupid. You don’t treat people this way. You don’t man-handle them this way. Black, white or whatever. Like Howard said, “You will see them over and over again. Treat them right.”
But…we won’t be seeing George Floyd anymore, will we. Howard Kelly would not at all be pleased.
(Me and Howard, almost 35 years later, both retired.)
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
Coming very soon from Wolfpack Publishing, the ebook set in a fantastic sale. Get the paperback books here – True Crime
(For starters, police work was a little different 5 decades ago…)
Back in the 1970s I wanted to finish college, so I reluctantly requested a transfer into what was called the “relief patrol shift.” I say reluctantly because I enjoyed my time with my regular rotating patrol shift, led by a Lt. Gene Green and Sgt. Eric Jackson. While I really, really liked these guys, and liked working for them, college loomed. The relief shift had the same hours each week, was partially created for police college attendees, and was mathematically inserted inside the oddball eight-hour, rotating-shift openings.
But the relief-shift math wasn’t completely perfect. There were shifts and days each week that had no personnel gaps, and we of the relief outfit were just added to the manpower of rotating shifts. Week after week on certain nights, the regular rotating-shift Sergeant would look at us relief patrolmen and wonder what in hell to do with us.
We would often be assigned in the same cars as partners. Thus, for quite some time on Thursday nights, I was partnered with Sal, the barefoot policeman. Sal and I always had a blast every Thursday night on the 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. shift. Sal was already a vet at the police department, and he was a hysterical fellow with a great sense of humor. He was a little bit buck-toothed and a real country boy. He was kind of shaped like John Wayne and would often wear his revolver like the Duke way back on his belt near his back pocket. He would casually rest his forearm or hand on his gun handle like Wayne did, which really stretched the leather holster through time. Eventually, it sort of flapped around back there when he walked.
Quickly, before we get to the barefoot angle of this tale, one of my favorite Sal stories, is when he and were patrolling one night. He spotted a U-haul, rental truck on the highway without rear tail lights. This was a pet peeve of his. He said,
“Pull that son-ma-bitch over.”
Michigan license plates. We hit the lights and did so. He stopped. We strolled up to the drivers door of the truck and Sal took his Duke pose, hand resting on that gun far back on his hip. This poor driver was a hippy looking sort for back then, long hair, beard and all. He was scared to death when he took a look at us, stopped in the dark, by us two rebel, redneck heatherns…
“Wha…whaa…is…is there a problem, officers?”
“I’ll say there’s a problem,” Sal barked, “problem is…you ain’t got SHIT fer lights!”
And this poor kid, you know probably use to professional police jargon – “Good evening sir, may I…” just stuttered, babbled and just melted away in shocking fear. And of course, we let the kid go with just a “be safe” warning. We are not savages!
They say that Sal started out a very gung-ho officer, but after being unfairly (his version) bumped off a sergeant’s exam list, his spirit was broken. Since then, he just wandered through his 40-hour workweek barely getting by and irritating supervisors and citizens alike. He left our agency for a while and worked in Colorado. But they fired him.
“They told us to leave the tourists alone,” he told me of his Aspen days. “Tourism was their bread an butter.” But, one night he beat up a drunk driver, tourist and was fired. We hired him back anyway. Cuz…well…this was Texas. Sal explained to me what happened his last night in Colorado. “I arrested a tourist for DWI. Drunk as a skunk. I had him at the jail house and that son-a-bitch kept reaching over and tearing up the DWI report I was writing! I’d get half finished with one of them, and he’d lean over, make a face and grab it and rip it up. Sheeet. I did it over. Rip. I did it again. Rip again. You can’t pull that shit back here in Texas!” Sal told me. “So I hit him. I mean, that’s what we’d do here. Hell, those Colorado pussies fired me.”
That was one tale rehashed on many a Thursday night as Sal and I patrolled. It was not uncommon for Sal to ride shotgun and let me drive. In fact, I cannot recall a time when Sal ever drove. Too much work I think. It was almost a weekly routine for him to buy a big over-sized bag of caramel-covered popcorn. He’d open the bag and start eating. Sometimes he’d eat Doritos, but usually it was the sticky brown popcorn. We would drive around; and if we had a break in calls, eventually Sal would remove his cowboy boots. One at a time to let his feet…breathe. Often, next off came his white socks. I don’t know why? Pick at his feet? He would commence to pick his toenails, preen, and massage his feet … and eat popcorn from the big bag. And, yes, absent-mindedly he would sometimes offer me some popcorn, which I would decline. Toe fungus, ya know? It spreads. He would sometimes produce silver nail clippers and with great intent carve away at his feet.
Meanwhile, I was still young and in my gung-ho stage and would aggressively patrol. Sal would curse at every call and gripe every time I dared initiate some action, especially once early in an evening shift. Just before sunset at rush hour, I spotted a car bust through a red light in a hurry. I accelerated after it, and Sal started in with his usual gripes,
“What? Whatcha’ doing, man?” he asked.
“They ran a red light. Big time. That Chevy almost hit him.”
“So what? Oh, come on!”
This was work, and he did not want to work. He wanted no part of it. I wanted to get into something. It wasn’t the ticket I was after, but rather “what kind of shit I could get into” (as the common phrase said). I might not write him a ticket at all. Just check things out.
I had to blast the siren to let the driver know I was serious, because he seemed to ignore me at first. In the front seat next to him was a woman and another male at the passenger-door back seat. When the car finally pulled into a business parking lot on Dallas Drive, I got out and approached the driver’s door. Sal, barefoot with his bag of popcorn on his lap, remained in the squad car.
I collected the driver’s license and returned to our squad car to run wants and warrants.
“What he say? Huh? What? What?” Sal was always over-curious and eagerly interested even though he took no action.
“Oh, nothing much,” I told him. I started running the guy’s name and DL on the NCIC. I sat in the driver’s seat with the door open and one foot on the ground.
“Sixty-one,” came the dispatcher.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“The subject is wanted in Dallas for burglary.”
“Damn!” muttered Sal. This meant work.
After getting some of the details from the dispatcher, I walked up to the car and asked the guy to get out and talk to me, which he did. I told him the bad news, and he started declaring that the system had made a big mistake, etcetera. I honestly cannot remember the guy’s name and what he said. It’s been about 45 years now. But what happened next? I couldn’t forget.
When the driver complained loudly about the arrest warrant, the passenger door flung open. And the other male passenger got out. Sal popped his patrol car door, as like it or not, he was a vet. The guy took a few steps toward me, and Sal got out, boot and sockless. Then the passenger turned and ran like hell across the business parking lots.
I itched to chase him, but what could I do about my burglary suspect? I couldn’t leave him here. Just as the instant the quandary hit me, here ran Sal right past us… barefoot … in hot pursuit of the passenger. He was after all…still…a vet.
“Goddamn! Ya-little-mother-fuckin’-stupid-shit-son-a-bitch, I will shoot yer ass down, ya.…” Sal emitted in one long, cussing stream.
Did I tell you that Sal loved to play golf? Total addict. Daily. And he really wasn’t in too bad a shape. He hotfooted, barefooted across the A-1 Cleaners, Dallas Pawn Shop, and the 7-11 parking lots after this kid. The lots were too full of customers for Sal to shoot at him, which I know he had a hankering to do at those chase times.
“That…that officer has no shoes,” the burglary suspect said calmly to me, as we watched him run by.
“The pay ain’t much around here,” I told him as I cuffed his hands.
Off in the distance, Sal had caught the kid by the 7-11 gas pumps, had shaken him around a bit, and then cuffed him. He marched the kid back with a hand on the scruff of his neck. Of course, many people on the lots, stared in amazement at…the barefoot policeman.
This second kid had drugs in his pocket. LSD. We arrested both of them. I searched the car and found nothing illegal. The girl had no record, and I let her drive the car off. On the way to the jail, Sal put his socks and cowboy boots on. He appeared in complete uniform at the station book-in room.
The next Thursday night? We had a few laughs, patrolled around town, stopped at a Gas-N’-Go, and Sal bought himself a big bag of caramel popcorn. Two hours into the shift he was happily munching away and picking at his bare feet.
And all things were right in heaven…
(P.S. Sal eventually left and became a golf club salesman.)
Hocks email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
This is an excerpt from the upcoming Wolfpack Publishing collection, Dead Right There
“I think people need to learn how to hand, stick, knife, gun fight first, then dive into your bobbies, sports and arts later. Get the pure protection, combatives done as a priority.” – Hock
Doing the training process in order that I mention in the above photo and quote has become much easier now than in decades past when a person (such as me) had to slog through 6 or more arts and systems to filter out the real core, generic survival, offensive/defensive material, while adorned in a bevy of different uniforms, rules, hero worship and system worship. Wants and needs. It comes down to a series of “who, what, where, when, how and why” questions.
- Whose the best on the subject and will teach you?
- What materials? What do I REALLY need? Want? Art? Science? Both?
- Where can I go to learn what I want?
- When are these classes and courses available?
- How will I filter this?
- Why am I doing this in the first place?
Wrong place? Wrong people? Wrong mission? In the late 80s, Steven Seagal burst on the scene and broke a guy’s arm in the first few minutes of a movie. I saw “Above the Law” in a theater and knew that very instant that Chuck Norris and Claude Van Damme were done. Chuck went straight to TV and Claude disappeared for awhile to reemerge in B and C movies.
The movie changed and -or motivated a lot of minds. One old friend named Ted for example told me back then, “I wanted to fight like Seagal. I turned my car into the first martial art school I drive by every day and signed up.” But, Ted pulled into a Tae Kwon Do school and very quickly realized he was financially contracted to the wrong place with wrong people, the wrong system for his mission. He had no “who, what, where, when, how and why” going for him. No one there was doing this…this …”Seagal-Fu” as in Aiki-jitsu- Aikido. My point being is that he started something out of an ignorance. What did he want, anyway? And what did he need?
Though I’d been in Parker Kenpo about a year before I went in the army in the early 1970s, the military and police experience really forged my who, what, where, when, how and why mission needs. I needed stuff. Needs that I never saw efficiently fulfilled in one, two, three or more arts. It was a long, hard slog back then to filter. It still isn’t easy really and truth is a daily investigation. But I WANTED what I NEEDED. Not needed to do what I wanted.
Today, Krav Maga is everywhere, though I am not always happy with many versions. It was the genius of Darren Levine who resurrected it into an international business back in the 1990s. He soon lost his “shirt and pants” doing it with insane over-pricing, and he has regrouped a bit since, but you can thank him for your local Krav school, and Krav notoriety, as Krav splintered and splintered and splintered away from him. And, It seems that “combatives” can be found here and there, though again, I am not always happy with the many versions. But, these are groups of folks that have already tried to filter the generics of established systems for you and save you time.
In the same vein, I find the modern-day, MMA of kickboxing, and ground fighting WITH strikes and kicks on the ground, to be diverse, superior and way more on survival mission. No frills. Just winning and what works. Money is at stake! Reputations! It is better than boxing alone. It is better than wrestling alone. But then, still, they have some sport rules and no cheating, no sticks, no knives, no guns!
The overall, international success of Krav, combatives and MMA tells me that a whole lot of people did not, and do not want, to get bogged down in arts, uniforms, abstracts, and that otherwise long slog of off-mission, distracting requirements. I have seen this is the disappearance of, and the slow decline of, old-school, martial arts schools around the world.
Hand. Stick. Knife. Gun. Standing through ground. The laws of your land. Savvy. Awareness. Studies of crime and war. It’s been an evolution I too have been part of, evolving and teaching for 24 years now. A movement. My personal suggestion and advice is one of common sense. Try and get those foundational defense, offense survival stuff first and then move off to more confining hobbies later. Needs first. Then wants.
“Fighting first first, systems second!” Remember that quote? I have used it for 24 years since I emancipated myself from all systems. But, like a college counselor ordering a college kid to take all the college courses in precise order – 101, 102, 103 – and then they simply can’t do that because of filled classes and scheduling, a student takes what he or she can at the time. You too, may have trouble completely doing all unarmed and mixed-weapon combatives first and then arts second. While it is easier these days for you to get right to what you want than in the past, you may have to do this training side-by-side? Generally people are busy with life and can only chip away at this stuff, anyway. Do something rather than nothing. Get off the couch.
Do something. Again, I always say I want people to be happy. Just know where you fit in the big picture. If you told me,
“Yeah Hock, I completely understand what you are saying, but I just want to do traditional ______. I just really love the culture and the country of _______. ”
I am thumbs up with you. Or, one might add to that “love” list,
“Hock, I get it, also just enjoy developing the overall personalities of children.”
Go for it. How about,
“I agree, Hock, but for me, my dream is to be a champ in the UFC.”
May your dream come true! You already know the high regard I have for modern, clean MMA. Unlike the aforementioned Ted, you all get the big picture and can articulate about it. Just know the big picture of “needs and wants.” All martial arts do have abstract benefits. And there are some established, “martial-artsy-named” schools that really try to get survival materials in the curriculum.
So…dance in some kung fus? Throat punch in some combatives? Art? Science? Nuts and bolts? Investigate and figure out what you really need and what you really want to do. Use the “W’s and H” questions. The choices and opportunities are more clear and obvious than ever before.
Finally, a litmus test question – look at it this way. Speaking of college, If you were sending your daughter (or son) off to a big city, college, would you want her to know, so-called “traditional karate?” So-called “Brazilian wrestling?” “Stick versus stick dueling?” Or, so called “unarmed and mixed-weapon, combatives?” What does she really NEED to know, first and foremost? What do you want her to learn, first?
Want what you need?
Need what you want?
(In my true police/detective books, I wrote an essay called, “Most Dead Ever,” a compilation of the calls and cases I went on where the tally was high to horrific. Here is one…)
1970s. North of our Army base in the U.S. was an enormous artillery range. Troops were constantly blowing up all kinds of big and small ordnance. For those not familiar, “ordnance” is defined as:
“All munitions containing explosives, nuclear fission or fusion materials, and biological and chemical agents. This includes bombs and warheads; guided and ballistic missiles; artillery,
mortar, rocket, and small arms ammunition; all mines, torpedoes, and depth charges; demolition charges; pyrotechnics; clusters and dispensers; cartridge and propellant actuated devices; electro/explosive devices; clandestine and improvised explosive devices; and all similar correlated items or components explosive in nature.”
A Dud defined: A dud is all of the above that didn’t go boom.
Now, enter the ordnance, the grenade. And enter then, the dud hand grenade story. Officially also – “DUD-a thrown grenade that failed to detonate after the expected fuze time has elapsed.”
As I said, artillery troops were always out on the northern ranges, blowing all kinds of stuff up. And a small percentage are duds. As the later investigations discloses – One fine morning, out on a said field, a young private stumbled upon what appeared to be a very old hand grenade. He closed in on it and looked it over. No pin. No lever. Hmmmm. A dud, he presumes. What fun!
He threw some rocks at it. His buddies giggling nearby. Nothing. Deadness. He hit it with a stick. Then he kicked it and jumped back. It bounced across the rocky, dry terrain. He picked it up, tossed it up and down a few times and then stuck it in his jacket pocket. What a coup. What a toy.! A dud grenade!
The unit took a long, one-hour bouncy ride in the back of a deuce-and-a-half truck. The private pulled the grenade from his pocket and declared to those around him, “Look what I found!”
The others leaned away, aghast. But it became clear by his manipulations and juggling, it had to be a dud.
Once at their multi-story barracks building, they bailed out of the trucks, unloaded and hit the showers. The private went to his multi-person quarters and tossed the grenade on his bunk. He combed his wet hair, got in casual clothes – civvies – picked up his dud grenade and walked to the day room (TV, pool tables, a rec room, etc.) for some fun and games with his new toy.
He got to the day room door and peeked in. He saw many of his friends day-rooming about in there. Some were with him on the training day, and some not.
“GRENADE!” he yelled. He tossed the dud grenade into the middle of the room, then he ducked back into the hall, just for effect. Big joke.
The so called dud hit the floor and exploded. It blew with all its originally designed and planned intent. BAM! In the middle of the day room.
Our private and other nearby troops in the hall and other rooms ran to the door. The room was a bloody mess. Shreds of the room still floating in the air, they said. One or two seemed dead. Others wounded. Dying. Splinters everywhere. Lots of blood and guts and whines, yells and screams. The first instinct of bystanders was to call for an ambulance. Someone did, and the hospital called the police.
I was one of the units dispatched. I was assigned that day to the patrol district next to this one, or maybe as a rover? I just can’t remember. When I arrived, I was not the first. The district police car and the patrol sergeant’s car were there and several ambulances. At the moment, I was not clear exactly what had happened, nor was our police dispatcher clear either. We only knew that some kind of a “bomb” went off on the third floor.
A sample photo of the actual building, another day.
Hearing of a possible “bomb,” as I parked, I looked up to survey the building. I didn’t know what to expect. Was the huge barracks building bombed? By whom? By what? I saw broken glass in some third story windows and curtains flapping in and out with the wind.
Soldiers were standing outside, looking up too. As I got close to the main doors, someone told me a grenade touched off up there. I entered the building, climbed the stairs to the third floor, and saw the commotion in the hallway.
When I stepped in the room, it looked like some 8 or 10 guys were pretty hurt. Another two or three were slightly hurt. Some laid dead still, mashed and abandoned. The room looked like, well, like a small bomb went off in it! I wandered around and tried to help out where I could, but the paramedics had done their triage assessment and were hard at work. Plus, some of the unit cadre were Nam vets and were already pitching in with the EMTs.
I walked out of the room and asked some Sergeants in the hall what had happened. They pointed to the kid who threw the “dud” in. I spoke with him. Our patrol sergeant walked up and listened to us talk it out. The kid was practically crying and in real shock. The district MP (military police) came over to us.
The Sarge pulled us aside and told the district MP to arrest the kid.
“For what Sarge?” the district MP asked. “What charge?”
“I don’t know. For something. Charge him with something,” he said. “We have to arrest him for this. Manslaughter. Something. Negligent something.”
Then the Sarge’s portable radio announced that, “CID was in route.”
“Ten-four,” he said into the radio, and told us, “Good. Okay. We’ll let CID decide what to do with him.”
We stuck around until two CID investigators (our FBI, more or less) arrived. We filled them in and pointed out the kid. They looked around and marched the kid off to one of the nearby offices. And we were ready to leave. As the Lone Ranger would say, “Tonto, our work here is done.” A few hours later I had to go and give blood at the hospital. Three or four troops died, best I can recall.
I have thrown a few grenades. I have even qualified as expert on the old Army, grenade throwing range. I got the targeting knack quickly. It was like throwing a football only heavier, so I aimed higher than the target to offset the weight, be it a window or whatever set up we were supposed to blow up. I always joke about how cavalier vets and movie actors are about these small bombs hanging off their uniforms, in comparison to the very first ones they hand you and you baby them like they are nitroglycerin.
But they are certainly no joke. Very generically speaking, the grenade kill zone is 5 meters or 16 feet. The injury range is 15 meters pr 50 feet. Shrapnel can go even further. A hand grenade, especially an older one, ’70s and pre-’70s had a varying reputation back then. Some called them as devastating and some didn’t. There are lots of fascinating, jaw-dropping stories. They weren’t all always perfect like the distances above. I guess it was situational.
But that “dud” took a toll on the day room and the unit that late afternoon, and also took a toll on my memory.
“If you did not drop it? Don’t pick it up!”
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
HOME VIDEO TESTING? Testing for “Martial IQ.”
Another question is popping up to me, with these seminar cancellations and international house arrests (March, 2020 Covid-19 times), would I, will I do virtual or video rank testing? Quick answer? No. Fact is, I just can’t wrap my head around the long distance, video testing thing.
I am very disorganized about testing-ranking people which is a short-term, business mistake on my part, but I consider rank and instructorships are a side option, an additional service for my practitioners, not my main thrust. Ambitious people in seminars pretty much have to put a post-it. sticky note on their forehead –
“I’d like to test for Knife 5,”
“I want to be a basic instructor.”
-for dense ol’ me to get and retain the message.
In a 2-day seminar, when alert to a testee or two in attendance, I can easily schedule a two hour block out of the 14 hours to cover, say “Knife 5.” Everyone needs to see it anyway, and, or needs to review it, anyway.
I watch the candidate closely, but the idea of a “test” to me is a whole weekend event and an overall weekend rating. Not only do I watch the actual material being done closely, I am also watching the candidate (and everyone) closely and looking for an overall mental and physical, skill-knowledge level. Lunch or dinner may even count as to what we gossip and talk about. What have they done since last seminar? With whom? I respect and count the work of some other instructors/systems, yet some others? Not at all.
I am looking for, I guess you can say,
* “Martial I.Q.”
* Not “martial ARTS I.Q., mind you,
* but MARTIAL I.Q.”
(Can you see the difference? If so, that enlightenment is part of your martial IQ.)
These are the things I look for when I have my testing ball-cap on, and the idea of watching someone do a video test seems pretty incomplete to me, distant, shallow, compared to what I am use to. I just can’t wrap my head around it.
When I “make” a Force Necessary or PAC/Filipino instructor and they test their people for ranks and instructorships under them, without me, that is their bailiwick and control. Their “way,” their process. I simply have to trust them.
Of course I do try to make up for my testing indiscretions and I have a special weekend here and there for testing to catch up, but they are still taught in a seminar instruction process. Click here for seminars
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com
Max Pallen, Filipino and GM of Senko Terras and I were eating dinner in California a few years back (decades now) and he asked me why I had officially quit teaching Filipino martial Arts.
I looked him in the eye and said, “because I’m not you,”
Of course I never really quit. I still do teach some FMA here and there, but more often in a small, abstract way. I’ve graduated two big FMA “colleges.” Remy Presas and Ernesto Presas and I have slipshod, bad, “GED” in Inosanto systems. But, you don’t see my name “W. Hock Hochheim Filipino Supreme” anywhere, certainly not in my ads, resume or on my webpage.
I explained further, “because I am not you Max. I am not a Filipino and the ceiling for success of a non-Filipino teaching Arnis/Kali/Escrima is short.” I think to be a real successful, flag-bearer of a Filipino teacher and I mean a REAL one, a big leaguer, you have to have the “right” name: You:
- actually be Filipino. (Even if you’ve never been there!) Or,
- sound or look like you are, or,
- your name has to be non-euro-white guy, sound Latino, or sounds, well…non Euro white guy. It doesn’t even matter if you ever been to Philippines to train. Just be “Spanishy’ and first doors will open. Its not “white privilege.” It’s…Spanish privilege.”
- It really helps if your name also sounds Pacific islandy, foreign.
I can think of just a rare, few white-bread boys only teaching FMA that are successful. My friend Bill McGrath for one. And if he didn’t have a day job back home, he’s be twice as worldly successful. He has “overcome.” The rest? Less than the fingers on one hand. Who else do you know can pull that off in FMA? Keep in mind, I have seen the big leagues for decades, and if you name drop someone right now, one of your heroes? I’ll bet they are not in the big leagues. He might think he is? But he is not. The world is littered, (oh…littered is not a good word, full…yeah…) full of little-leagers, double AA ball, doing stuff, trying to do stuff. They are just handicapped. They start out handicapped. Most remain handicapped.
Other friends like to remind me that white boys can be great teachers of yellow, black and brown systems, too. Sure they can! But they start out handicapped, which is my point. I am talking here about Business NAMES!
What constitutes handicapped? Look at the business, name game-
- “Tim Jones Filipino Martial Arts.” Not too exciting.
- “Jauqien Wojobee Filipino Martial Arts,” Hmmm, well, whose he? Sounds interesting. (The an odd, foreign name thing…)
- “Calibra Latino Filipino Quesadia, Tactical FMA.” Wow. I’m in. Where is he next?
Let’s take a look at this from another angle. A non-FMA angle-
- “Tim Jones BJJ.” Not too exciting, huh?
- “Jauqien Wojobee BJJ,” Hmmm, well, whose he? Sounds interesting.
- “Calibra Latino Quesadia, BJJ.” Wow. I’m so in. Where is he next? or this…
- “Tim Jones Krav Maga.” Not too exciting, huh?
- “Intergalactic Krav Maga,” Hmmm, well, whose that? Sounds interesting. Are the franchise fees cheaper? (That seems to be very important in the Krav world.)
- “Ollie Meir Krav Maga.” Wow. Holey moley! I’m so in. Where is he next?
- “Tim Jones Russian Systema.” Not too exciting, huh?
- “Russian Systema Evolutions,” Hmmm, well, whose that? Sounds interesting.
- “Mikhail Kusovik Systema.” Wow. Давай – Davai! I’m so in. Where is this Commie next?
(I am NOT picking on Tim Jones. I don’t know a Tim Jones and I guess there’s a Tim Jones is out there working very hard. Sorry.)
Names. Take a second to inspect a clever name “10th Planet Jiu-jitsu.” To normal citizens, (your bread and butter business need) they might ask, “What the hell is that?” and “Didn’t they just lose Pluto off the list?” But, we in the MA business know the score, and it’s very clever name, with many happy people doing it. Eddie Bravo (also a fabulous name) is an excellent, innovative, athlete. Eddie avoided the Latino “O” with a solar system, name game. But he did risk the challenge of naming something that people cannot recognize immediately. And, he will never be as popular as a “Gracie.”
Names. Take a second to think about this. The old World Tae Kwon Do Federation, the “WTF,” voted to change their name to avoid the new “what the f___” popular expression.
Names. If you are a reader here, you know how mystified I am with the term “Urban Combatives,” Are there no fights in rural and suburban areas? Some of the greatest fighters in the UFC are farm boys. Whazzup?
It takes luck and strategy and the IQ to know when and where you start with a name-game, handicap. And all this is name-game, advertising manipulation we all fall victim too. No matter the category from Nike shoes, body waxing to Rolex watches, religion and politics.
In the martial arts, it use to be Japanese privilege, or Okinawan privilege, Korean privilege. Now it’s Israeli privilege and Brazil privilege. You name it. The name game. Name of thrones. I have several terrific friends who are educators and constantly preach the importance of critical thinking and anti-advertising courses from elementary school to college. They sit there and preach this clarity, yet vote straight Democratic for decades no matter the issues, wearing Nike work-outs suits and top brand watches and driving status cars. A cognitive breach in what they say and what they actually do. This runs deep in humanity. Tribes. Clubs. Bias. None of us are perfect and critical thinking is a deep and daily challenge. It is out true societal salvation.
I have always done martial arts just to mine the survival methods and not to “join” something. Just lookin’ for the essence. I am still rather interested in the essentials of FMA. I am not much of a joiner, rah-rah, type anyway. A skeptic, you might say. Loyalty is deep dive in critical thinking for me. I fail at it sometimes, but hope I remember to keep trying.
Anyway, Max Pallen laughed and got a kick out of my whose-who, explanation decades ago. It still holds true. My long-time student Al Moore reported, “I was eating dinner with one of the popular Filipino Masters about twenty years ago. During the conversation I mentioned training with you, and a few others. His first knee jerk response was, ‘I don’t respect any training in FMA from non-Filipino instructors.’ My immediate thought was WTF, I am one of those, and why I am still giving you money! Unluckily, the Kool-aid drinkers are in every system of Martial Arts.”
About a year ago, another guy asked me, “why do you hate the Filipino martial arts?” I asked him why in the world did he think I hated the Filipino martial arts? Where did you get this idea? He couldn’t give me one single reason. I guess he thought I was a traitor since I am a FMA graduate? Since I don’t have crossed, rattan stick designs tattooed on my forehead…I’m a hater?
I am not so sure that design would look so good, on my white-boy, Euro forehead? A bit stark, I think.
Hock’s email is HockHochheim@ForceNecessary.com