It Had To Be Felt #9: Watanabe Nobuyuki: How the Mighty Have Fallen
I used to enjoy Watanabe sensei's classes so much! For one reason or another, I had to be "on" with so many other shihan: with some, I knew that the slightest mistake might get me injured; with others, I felt that I had to meet an impeccable standard of practice. Watanabe sensei's class, on the other hand, was at a different level: like driving a Chevrolet instead of either an off-road Jeep, kicking around rocks and tree-stumps or a Ferrari, screaming around an intricate course. It was strong, it was instructive and it was fun. It was a Sunday drive.
Watanabe sensei is a very powerfully built man, and with his cross-cropped hair, his beetling brow and glower, which he meant in humor, he reminded me of a silverback gorilla. His technique was easy to understand. He rarely bent his knees, and he moved from place to place, in a rather stiff-legged walk, teetering from one side to the other. He threw me powerfully, but cleanly most of the time. He was not technically precise, however. I remember one time, he was wandering around the dojo, and he put a sankyo on me, and allowed my arm to go into an alignment that made it impossible for him to direct his power from the ground into my arm/wrist. He couldn't get my center. Rather, he found himself merely twisting my arm with his arms and shoulders, over-extended. At that time, my wrists were both strong and very flexible, so I didn't respond to the twist, other than rolling my shoulder to neutralize the torque. Looking puzzled, he tried to adjust position, but couldn't find the "sweet spot," as I moved to neutralize him (I think some call that aikido ukemi, actually). To his credit, he had a large enough spirit that he was neither outraged at my refusal to take a fall he didn't deserve, nor did he try to take revenge by sucker-punching me in the face, unlike what some of the other shihan might have done. He just laughed, let me go, whacked me on the shoulder and moved on to another training group. Nonetheless, it wasn't a good technique, and he should have been able to "reboot." (By the way, if he had called me out as the demonstration uke in front of the class, I would have taken the fall. One has a different role when the teacher is presenting what he wants the class to learn, even when he misses the technique he's aiming for: the demonstration uke is a teaching assistant, so to speak).
In any event, I often knew that I had an escape route, or a potential counter with Watanabe sensei. What was wrong? I think he enjoyed himself too much, and therefore, didn't pay the kind of immaculate attention to position, to control, to effective alignment and to coordination of his own body that the top shihan did as a matter of course. Even in those days, his aikido was too "playful," too unserious. I would attack and he'd mug a little, swaying back or leaning forward, and "linking" up with me, he'd throw as the impulse took his body. However, as far as I could tell, there was no practical reason for his sway back, or lean forward, other than it felt good to him. He took himself off balance and undermined his own physical integrity.
He could put some real power in his technique. As I said, he had a pretty massive build. But he often did not "hit" the right angle of attack, as some instructors could as a matter of course, and he did not use either the ground (to push up with full body power), or gravity (to drop the opponent by forcing him to bear his full body weight effectively). The experience of taking ukemi for him was fun, without a doubt, but it was not ukemi as a means of survival or mutual testing of skill and limits; rather, it was ukemi as an expression of freedom. With his help, you engaged in short bouts of flying, punctuated by satisfying pancake landings.
Watanabe sensei was never one of the greats, like Tada sensei or Nishio sensei, but his class used to be an island of sane practice at the Aikikai. He reminded us that life is short, and not every moment must necessarily be about life-and-death. One can do something fine and solid while laughing. It was not high art, but sometimes I'd rather kick back with Lynard Skynard than listen to Bach.
Watanabe sensei also had an ability to recognize his own personal quirks, and he had a friendly understanding for others that I really respected. I once asked him if I could attend his private dojo, and he replied something like this: "I like you and enjoy you coming to my class. However, I'm jealous of my personal students. If they come to my private dojo, I expect them to commit to me, and you train with everyone. I wouldn't like being mad at you for you being who you are."
It is this capacity for self-reflection that he showed then that makes his transformation over the years something that both saddens and angers me. I have seen film clips on YouTube of his demonstrations from the last twenty years. In my eyes, he has gotten ever more ridiculous, expecting his uke to fall with a wave of his hand, or a glare of his eyes. Ironically, he still occasionally intersperses quite staunch and strong aikido techniques, but then quickly reverts to a preposterous interaction with his students, where they do barrel rolls and flips at a glance or twitch of a finger.
In my opinion, many aikido instructors have lost their way -- and this is not exclusive to Watanabe sensei -- due to a never-contradicted-by-reality belief that this martial art allows them freedom to express their fantasies. Because of both the teacher-student dynamic and the mythology of the art, some instructors do whatever they want, because no one can say them nay. On the one hand are the arm-waving magicians, and on the others are the brutes that know that no student will ever strike them back for their abuse. Two sides of the same coin.
I wrote earlier that, as a demonstration uke, I would take ukemi from the teacher as expected, because shaming or resisting an instructor in front of a class would be a violation of the dojo itself, and the trust that the teacher puts in you. But there are limits: one should never become an implement of another's personal heaven. It ill becomes a martial arts instructor to expect his students to leap and flip like poodles in a circus act. I will never walk onto the mat of a teacher who acts this way.
Were I, unaware, to find myself on the mat with someone who expected such ukemi of me, I would keep on coming and see what happened next. There is no reason to respond to gestures that have no meaning, anymore than one should take the fall if the teacher inadvertently sneezes. And whether he would then have the ability to respond and throw or lock me normally, or simply be bowled over, it would still be my last class with such a person, because I do not want to associate myself with someone who indulges in such clownish, degrading nonsense, whatever their real abilities or motivations.
Perhaps the reader finds this too harsh? It's outrage. His class and his company used to be so fine. I simply miss the man he was.
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Re: It Had To Be Felt #9: Watanabe Nobuyuki: How the Mighty Have Fallen
In 1986 I had my first visit to Japan and of course I visited also the Hombu Dojo. I didn't care who was the instructor and so I had my first lecture of Watanabe Nobuyuki on a Friday evening. In the beginning it seemed quite normal to what I regarded as Aikido. But then he demonstrated techniques in a way I couldn't believe that they may work. At this time I took not ukemi for him. Only eight years later I visited a seminar in Germany where he used to go to twice a year and I attended nearly all of them since then. Now I had the opportunity to take ukemi and it was a strange experience. I needed years to do the ukemi in an appropriate for him and let him demonstrate what he wanted to.
And this is my interpretation: You have to attack forcefully and with the will to attack. But at the same time you should care about yourself. In reality you don't know what the other one is doing. If you could focus on "Aikido techniques" it is easier to read tori and the intentions of his technique. But if you do not know, its a different game.
With regard what I understand up to now why Watanabe sensei approach "works" let me state the following. If as uke you approach him you may experience that you brings you out of sync. You try to put forward the right foot but somehow you can't. You retreat and try the left foot. Same. And in a moment you start to dance, changing your weight from one foot to the other. For an outside observer it looks ridiculous. But in the perception of uke it is real.
What I also experienced was that Watanabe sensei is playing with maai, the good or correct distance. I can't remember the Japanese term he used for it, but it was translated like: Cut up the maai. In practice he is either reducing or extending the distance while coming back to maai immediately. This expels or let you fall into him and it is absolutely effortless for him to apply an Aikido technique now.
All in all I would say that Watanabe sensei tries to clarify things so that the Aikido technique proper is kind of Yoga exercise. This is NOT what does the unbalancing, it is NOT what does the blending between uke and tori. This is all done long before.
I myself try to "apply" these and many more principles, Watanabe sensei was teaching since many years in my own teaching. I give a lot of classes, eight in every week, and give seminars in other dojos. And from these experiences in teaching this myself I know that these are down to earth real and realistic principles.
Last point, I would like to make is, that Watanabe sensei refuses to apply direct physical power. He explains it indirectly by saying: If you are in a real fight, everything will be different. Being myself somebody who practiced kind of "strong" Aikido (Asai sensei used to be my teacher before and Watanabe sensei called me more then once "Rambo" which he didn't used as a compliment) I am changing this attitude step by step to something else.
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