Fight Club

The grizzled man had a wild look in his eye and an intensity that suggested he was not one to be trifled with. If there was one thing that I knew with absolute certainty about him, it was that he was one of the most dangerous individuals in the entire state of Israel. And that was saying something.

Fortunately, the fire in his eyes was tapered by wisdom only crow's feet can bestow, softened by the smirk creeping into the corner of his mouth.

"Hit me!"

My first thought was, "Dude, you're sixty years old."

My second thought, which immediately followed my strike to his abdomen, was "...and you can kick my ass."

Standing amongst seven other Krav Maga students, including Stefan, Dustin, and Huoshin, I was the last one to demonstrate proper punching technique on our "sensei." The man had abs of stone. It was like hitting a cinder block.

"Good. Remember, if you don't hit me, I'll hit back," he yelled to the class, smirk still firmly intact.

As part of our continuing education, a few of us decided that we would learn the official martial art of the Israel Defense Force. Krav Maga, which literally means "battle touch," was developed by Imi Lichtenfeld in the mid-1930's in Budapest. It was designed for Jews to protect themselves from anti-Semitic activity. It would be used by many Jews just a few years later as they fled Europe to escape the dark reach of the Third Reich. From there, the art form survived the Holocaust and evolved into a fully realized self-defense system utilized by the Israel Defense Force.

Krav maga is not like karate. In karate, as Stefan put it, you learn to anticipate others and to restrain yourself, if at all possible, from using the skills you've been taught. Krav maga is for when the crap has already hit the proverbial fan. It is all about inflicting rapid and devastating damage on your opponent and ending the threat.

Dustin was called up to the front of the class. Our "sensei," whom we dubbed Splinter, was a good eight inches smaller than Big D. Dustin being a 6'4, 240 lb former College Football player, has yet to come across anyone who stands a chance of taking him down in a brawl. Until that moment.

"You have health insurance, yes?"

Dustin laughed and looked over at Stefan and I with bemusement.

"Uhh...yea."

"Good." he said crisply. "Everyone pay attention to my off-hand when I punch."

Oh my God, he's gonna punch Dustin.

And he did. Several times. In the abdomen.

And it wasn't a love tap.

"You see how I get more push when I rotate my wrist at the last moment? And be sure to throw your other elbow back. It will give you more room to work on him."

Dustin was sent back to join us after withering the flurry of blows. He seemed to be okay, but as he would later comment, "He hit me pretty good up there."

Splinter turned to me, smiled, and waved me forward. I could hear Stefan's patented chortle reverberate off the walls.

"What's your name?"

"Drew."

"Droo? Okay, Droo. Do me a favor and grab my wrist."

"This is gonna hurt isn't it?"

Nothing but a devilish smile.

I grabbed Splinter's wrist, a move I would never initiate on my own volition. He turned toward the class, still grinning, and proceeded to raise his hand toward the sky.

"Now Droo, whatever happens, do not let me pull my arm back down. Okay?"

"Uh huh." I replied, throwing Dustin a "Why me?" glare.

In what was perhaps the most emasculating moment in recent memory, a man five inches shorter, twenty pounds lighter, and thirty-six years older, effortlessly pulled his arm down toward his side, despite my solid grip.

"Use two hands if you like."

Laughter.

Alright, old man. You're the one with the AARP discount plan.

With two hands, I latched on to his wrist, confident that he wouldn't be able to bring it back...it was done before I could even blink.

"What the...?"

"It's all about leverage. Here, grab me again."

This time I ignored my embarrassment and found my curiosity piqued. There was no point in trying to maintain any semblance of manhood. There was only one man in the room.

"If someone grabs you like this, you do three moves. Step toward him, raise your hand with your palm facing you, and use your other hand to grab his hand like so..."

With his other hand, he pressed down on a pressure point near my pinky finger and began to twist.

"It's as if you're reading your own palm. Let's see, what does Drew's future look like from here?"

"Not good." I replied through gritted teeth.

More laughter.

"Please drop with me. Don't resist."

As ordered, Splinter.

I felt my arm completely lock and my wrist twist back in an unnatural position. He seemed to have exerted little to no energy. And in less than a second, I went from holding his wrist to being all but helpless.

"This is how you break a wrist," he said, panning his head across the class. Everyone nodded and seemed genuinely impressed and interested. He patted me on the shoulder and sent me to join the others.

From the back of the room, a young Israeli, in full karate attire, approached the front. He was no older than twenty-five, well-built, slightly small height-wise, and had a permanent pissed off look etched on his face.

"This is my best student. Now he is an officer in the Army. When he was seventeen, he placed second in the Israeli Karate Federation. That's right isn't it?"

"First."

"Oh yes. Sorry. My memory is slipping," Splinter said in a bemused fashion. "We will demonstrate another technique for breaking someone's grip on you so that you can in turn break them."

This guy is made of pure win.

For the remainder of the class, we went through two different techniques for subduing someone attempting to grab you and learned how to inflict maximum damage on a male attacker. I believe the last bit of instructing made everyone, save for the sole female student, Naomi, cringe.

Feeling like we had been locked in a sauna for an hour, we all lined up, bowed, and exited the class. Splinter followed us outside. His next batch of students entered his domain and began warming up on the mats. They all looked like experienced karate students. More than a few were definitely current members of the IDF.

This made sense given the fact that Splinter is the President of the Israeli Karate Federation. According to him, "There are two presidents in Israel. Me and the other guy."

No offense to the honorable Shimon Peres, but I completely concur.

"I hope you enjoyed it."

We all nodded as he went through our forms, glancing at our names and numbers.

"Today was just a demo. Next week, the real fun begins."