Are You A Jewish Boy?

I hit the mat with a thud. My hands were splayed wide with my palms facing the sky. My Israeli opponent stood over me, his face locked in the "take no prisoners" expression that is so common over here.

Welcome back to Krav Maga.

"No, no, no," Avi said as he looked our way.

Looks like he screwed up the take down.

Avi sprang away from a couple of girls who were practicing the take down and came over to our group. I started to get up and much to my surprise he was glaring at me.

"Why your hands facing up?" he asked in his thickly accented and occasionally broken English. "You look like a Christian boy...uh...begging Jesus for help!"

I nodded and laughed.

"This is no joke!" he said, stressing the last word.

He was half-serious and half-kidding, but he was mostly serious. He yelled for one of his Israeli students to come over. The young man jogged up, bowed, and proceeded to take Avi (i.e. Master Splinter) to the ground. He hit the mat and used his hands, palms down, to slap the mat, absorbing some of the shock and putting himself in a position to strike back.

He popped back up and addressed the rest of the class in Hebrew. I caught the gist of the message. When you're going down, don't look like you're about to take communion--even if you're Christian, especially if you're Jewish. It could be the difference between winning and losing the fight.

Splinter was several inches shorter than myself, but was easily the most intimidating person I've ever had the pleasure to be around. Politicians have nothing on this guy.

He turned toward me, his favorite practice dummy, and smiled sinisterly.

This is going to hurt.

"Are you a Jewish boy?" he asked, smile spreading from ear-to-ear.

Stefan stood behind Master Avi, his characteristic grin threatening to explode into uncontrollable laughter.

"Definitely not," I answered with a laugh.

"Then allow me to tell you this story about a boy from Hungary."

Some of the Israelis started to laugh as they crowded around the two of us.

"There was this boy from Hungary, a Jewish boy you see. And he was always in trouble at his Jewish school. One day he was kicked out because he was so bad!"

"And his father came up to him and..." Splinter rapped me on my forehead faster than I could blink. "...and he said 'Moshe, why do you do this?! There is only one other Jewish school for you to go to now!'"

Laughter.

"And so the boy was sent to the other Jewish school. And sure enough, after one, two, three days, he was kicked out again!" Avi said as he shook his head.

"And he came home to his father who could not believe it had happened again. So his father said..." Splinter popped me on the forehead again. "...he said, 'Moshe, why do you do this?! I have to send you away now!'"

Avi paused and looked around at the other students, then back at me. I'm struggling to keep from laughing, knowing full well that he could break me in half in less than three seconds if he so chose.

"And so now the boy had to go to a Christian school--this poor Jewish boy. But after one, two, three weeks, he was the best student in the class!" Avi threw his hands up in the air, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"So his father asked him, 'Moshe, how is it that you do so well now?'"

Avi paused one last time and glared back at me, the sly smile creeping back at the corners of his mouth.

"Because this school...is no joke."

The punchline was a blur--a blur that was in actuality a fist. And it accelerated straight into my abdomen.