David Valadez wrote:
In these clips, however, we not only take the traditional irimi of Aikido, we also take the traditional attack of Aikido (i.e. committed) -- though not the traditional form of Aikido (i.e. we are using boxing-like attacks). In my experience, the committed attack is the attack that is most difficult to deal with (e.g. requires the most skill), penetrates the deepest into our person, and is the one we will most often face in real life self-defense encounters. The non-committed attack is more of an academic issue for me, or it is the one I have to deal with as a teacher who is trying to get his Aikido trained students to attack with commitment under spontaneous conditions.
This, and the overall theme of your article reminded me of a boxing match I saw years ago. I cannot remember the fighters's names, but they were two welterweight Hispanic guys, of only middling fame.
One of them was a lefty and just lightining fast with the jab. The other guy basically walked backwards under blow after blow, with only a few counter punches for about two and half rounds. He displayed virtually no technique, not much in the way of bobbing or weaving.
The whole thing was looking like it would go down to a boring unanimous decided match, with the lefty WAY ahead on points. Then, in the third round, the other guy seemed to get really beat and start dropping his right hand, little by little. He started to let the other guy com close to a couple of left hooks connecting and backed away even more than in the first two rounds.
Then one left hook came sailing in to his head, and this time he did not back away. He turned into the arc, like a little tiny yokomenuchi kokyu, carrying the blow down with the right and then just exploding up into an right uppercut to the chin. I swear he lifted the lefty two inches off the deck before he staggered back. Best six-inch iriminage I ever saw. The lefty was completely addled, could not recover, and got clobbered twice more that round, before the match was called a TKO.
Your points about comiitment and noncommitment and how thaey each can alter the other's approach are spot on. That guy intimately understood how to make the tactics and distance work to his strengths, by using his weakness (or its perception), patience and and willingness to be hit a little in coordination with a larger strategic goal. The same sort of thing is illustrated in vastly different form in the final sword duel in the film "Rob Roy."