On Becoming A Warrior

I remember the first moment I ever saw Sijo Muhammad, my dear friend and primary martial arts mentor. It was at a Martial Arts Expo at the L.A. Sports Arena back about…1973. He did an (I later discovered unrehearsed) mass attack demo, four students attacking him, while he responded with speed, precision and clarity of motion and intent unlike anything I’d ever seen. I’d actually taken second place at the National Korean Karate championships the previous year, and thought I was slick, but what I saw there blew my mind.

Who was this man? What was his art? His name (then) was Steve Sanders, and his art of Kempo Karate, a variation of Ed Parker’s beautiful root discipline, itself rooted in even older sciences. I found out he had a school on Crenshaw Boulevard (across the street from Jim Kelly’s school. There are stories to be told) and went in.

He was soft-spoken but enthusiastic, ripped to shreds, and moved like a panther. Big welcoming smile. Surprisingly small-boned. Hell, I thought he was a giant when I saw him on the stage, but he was actually a little shorter than me.

“I’d like to learn karate,” I said.

“We’d like to teach you karate,” he replied.

I swallowed. “I don’t know how to fight,” I said.

He grinned. “That’s all right. We do.”

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And that was the beginning of my relationship with Steve and the BKF. Again, countless stories to be told, but other than the fact that it was a humbling…