Presented by: the local Judo club, in the early 1990s, at the secondary school gym.
My family were devoted sportspeople, everyone is now too old and knackered but back in the day; my father was an excellent rugby unionist and cricketer, my mother was squash and tennis fanatic, my uncle was a ten pin bowler, & my brother was a footballer. Then there was me, the black sheep of the family. I tried all kinds of sports – but I lacked the temperament for them, I was too fantastical and competitive.
We played tennis on the courtyard at home, but without a net and white lines there was too much cheating and I smashed my racket into the ground. I was a substitute for one game of football at my local club, I came on in defence and we went from 8-1 up to just barely scraping a 8-7 victory. My head was full of drama and the idea that in the next match the other team would be looking for revenge. A five-a-side tournament was organised at the primary school, and I was goalie for our team. I let a few goals in, but I couldn’t handle the criticism or the deliberately hard shots taken at me.
Badminton I fared a bit better in, that was organised in the primary school gym and I got a proper racket, shoes, and shorts. The problem here was that it never really went anywhere. I don’t even recall if I won a single match. It was around this time that the upper school was advertising a judo club. We were all obsessed with the Power Rangers so naturally martial arts was very attractive. The reality was very different from what was in my mind, but I loved it.
Everything was very ordered, from the formal style of the classes to the hierarchy of the grading system. Tabs and belts were awarded for the completion of certain levels of competency, which was judged on exam nights. I flew up the ranks from a White Belt no tabs to an Orange Belt three green tabs. The most difficult thing for me was learning all the Asian names for the moves, they sounded so similar. Because of the rapid rise I jointly received the runners up trophy for Judoka of the Year for our little club. I didn’t mind sharing because it was with my best friend and we were genuinely on a par.
I often wonder what might have happened if I had stayed with Judo, I guess in the end my CMT would have meant I’d have to give it up anyway. My ankles would have become too weak. However, there were two parts to the end of this story. Firstly Judo is an expensive sport, which gets more expensive when you start the level of the Cata courses. The courses required travel and it all became too much work if you didn’t have what it takes to become the best.
So if I had shown such promise in the early stages, how did I know I wasn’t going to go far? Our club entered a local competition, and I was part of the team. Paired up with people of the same size and ability – something became abundantly clear. I couldn’t actually win a match; I didn’t lose either but I spent all the time circling around and around trying to do the same move.
When we were training, your partner allowed you to throw them, but faced with an actual opponent things were too difficult for me to stick to the rules of competition. I left the Judo club, but kept the text book at home and flicked through it from time to time. At the turn of the millennium I was introduced to professional wrestling and then mixed martial arts. I’d have liked to try them, but the CMT had already taken its toll and it was too dangerous for me to compete. Still I have the trophy in my treasure chest as a reminder that there once was a time when I was joint 2nd best.