Enter The Dojang II

As the belts piled up, I was getting closer and closer to testing for black belt. By that time, Master Ik Jo Kang's school was run by Walter Eddie. He was a third degree black belt at the time. He was tall and thin, but muscular and strong. He had an aura about him. You felt the force of his personality as soon as he entered your presence.

He scared the hell out of me.

I had already begun taking the adult classes, and had earned the belt just below black. Still, I was far from achieving the rank of black belt. I had much to do.

Walter Eddie's classes were tough. He worked us. We did knuckle push-ups and sit-ups. He demanded 100% effort from every movement, every technique. He taught us that that was the way to developing ki. Ki is essential to the martial artist and comes through years of proper training.

In time, I would learn the necessary forms to test for my black belt. But I was not ready in my mind or my body. So Walter offered to train me at my house on Saturday mornings.

I was grateful. And at the same time, terrified. I knew that at some point, he was going to have me spar him.

I was worked hard -- harder than even the adult classes I had been struggling with. Walter had me run until I was winded before we went into my parents' basement. Then he worked with me to perfect my forms, to add snap to my movements, to do everything with power.

For several weeks, this continued. I was fifteen and too young to recognize that this was working. Most of the time I was praying that the end would come and I could shower and know that I was safe for another week. I didn't realize that all that training was changing me. I was getting stronger, faster, and more agile. I was turning from a boy who knew Tae Kwon Do and Hapkido to a martial artist. I was on my way.

Two weeks before my scheduled black belt promotion, Walter Eddie came to my parents' house for the final time. Like the other times, we did our routine of running, kicks, movements, forms -- and knuckle push-ups. Then he had me face him.

Now was the time.

He was far too powerful for me -- to strong, too fast, too everything. I stood in there the best I could, but it was as much of a mismatch as one could imagine. I did manage to block one kick once. However, in doing so I left myself open and BAM!!! -- a straight punch landed in my stomach. I couldn't breathe. All the wind was taken out of me. My father was watching us in the basement that day. I turned to him and, humiliated and defeated, I began to cry.

Walter hit me again. Harder.

"Don't you cry!" he ordered. "Fight back."

Humiliation turned to rage and I charged after him. He blocked all of my sloppy attacks, and hit me again. "Focus! Focus your power."

I became calm, but the energy from my rage was still there. I attacked again. He blocked a couple of my kicks, but this time I was focused. I hit him with a straight punch.

That was the real moment I earned my black belt. He knew it. My father knew it. Even I knew something inside me had changed. My lessons were complete and I was ready to test.

The day of the test was at the peak of a heat wave in White Plains. The dojang, which lacked air conditioning, exceeded 100 degrees. All of us who tested that day, regardless of what belt they were trying for, suffered. We needed to spar for our test and my sparring partner that day was Mike Rosenthal. We both ran out of gas during our match, but managed to continue long enough through the heat. Afterwards, I broke two boards with an elbow strike, four with a sidekick and three with a knife hand strike.

Each promotion, one student is awarded first place for their effort. There are also awards for second and third. I never placed at any promotion. Simply put, I was never quite good enough. So when Master Kang called my name, I was surprised. When he removed my brown belt and tied his own black belt around my waist I felt for the first time in my life that I had finally achieved something.

I was a black belt. And for a brief moment, I was the best.