“Hey Mathew, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting out? Are you OK?”

“I didn’t come here to play tag.”

“You don’t want to get out there and have fun with everybody?”

“Anybody can play tag; I want to learn martial arts.”

The sensei had a moment; I saw his face change from “Aren’t we having fun?” To “Oh shit, I’m a hack.”  Then from “Wait, you want to learn martial arts?” To “I need to pay the bills, kid. This strip mall ain’t free.”

He devoted his whole life to training, but now he’s a babysitter in a sensei costume. 

The class started with tenets of warriors: “Perseverance! Self-control! Indomitable Spirit! Respect for oneself and others! A warrior never raises a fist in anger!”

Then we started to train our basics: “Everyone, boxing stance. Ten Front kicks!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Hey, land back in your stance! Stay balanced”

“Three!”

“Stay focused! Stop playing”

The class’s pre-workout sugar started to kick in. Parents are watching their kids lose it, fidgeting, tearing up, and we are only on number five. 

“OK! Other side, then we’ll play a game!”

Yep, he bribed them with a game. Just like the parents had to bribe them on the way to class, “Drink your juice, and eat this before we get to martial arts!”

“I want to play soccer.”

“We are going to martial arts! Drink your juice.”

“I don’t want juice; I want Ice cream.”

“Here, I have some M&M’s. Drink your juice, and I’ll give you some.”

“Can we get ice cream after class?”

“If you behave in class, we will go get ice cream.”

I saw through this shit like it was a chain-link fence. The kids had taken over and gotten their way. Martial arts was over, and I was about to be ambushed by tag.

“OK, Kyle’s it, 3-2-1 go!”

I walked off the dojo mats and sat down, grumpy, pissed off, and disappointed.

I was only 8 years old, but I knew tag wasn’t part of the ancient ways of warriors. If this class was an Aerosmith concert, martial arts is “Dream On,” and tag is “Pink.” 

Sure, it was a new town, and I was trying to make friends, but we moved a lot as a family.

Iowa taught me that I can’t pull off a Michael Jackson Beat It jacket. I wasn’t cool enough to play Dungeons & Dragons. I love listening to records and reading instead. I refuse to change clothes for swim class with an adult watching me in the locker room. Summer camp will never happen again.

Alabama taught me that being smart is a good way to get bullied, and I refuse to go on stage with a ukulele and “just strum” when I don’t know how to actually play it. Teachers think that’s cute. I genuinely wanted to be an actual musician. I also got pretty good at throwing knives and ninja stars. Obviously, I would be a ninja someday. Since I loved to sew, I even made my own ninja costume.

North Carolina taught me the dangers of listening to our neighbor, the up-and-coming Ric Flair. Wooo! Never be a daredevil shirtless until you know you’re good at it, no matter what Mr. Flair says. 

I was blooming into a disciplined hipster, with a touch of been-there-done-that snobbery. I just wanted to learn something real. I knew why I was in a martial arts class that day, the same way I knew why I go to the pool or the library. Yeah, to learn some damn martial arts.

I met and trained under my first real martial arts master in Iowa. My favorite part of kung fu movies became the training scenes. I wanted to be like those students training under the masters in the villages and temples. I became my own one-child montage, training in my room, listening to Black Sabbath, and practicing my horse-stance punches.

I had never read any stories of great Tag Warriors throughout history. Anyone can practice, but it’s rare to choose it. Having something to practice made me feel like I was part of a special group. Running around and flailing like an inbred border collie on wet linoleum, trying to touch or not be touched, felt cheap. So, tag ain’t it.

That eight-year-old is still very much alive in me. I still love learning, practicing, and being around people who enjoy doing the work. That's why I built The YAMA Practice Library. It's full of things I've spent a lifetime learning, teaching, and returning to daily. It's open to anyone who shares that curiosity. Come on in, there's plenty to practice.