He was young and hispanic. He had one of the new aluminum tonfas. The ones with ball bearings. He was usually found watching a church on Main St., in Stockton, but I saw him around. He was a security guard and was pretty damn good with his aluminum baton. Woe is me for going to a Catholic church because the women were particularly pretty. He would stand around when things were slow and spin the damn thing frightening fast. I had spoke to him a few times about his weapon, but he blew me off for asking him stupid questions. I really thought that it might have superpowers. He really did make the thing look invinceable. I couldn't figure out a way to beat its speed. I bowed to his weapon mentally and decided to keep out of his reach.
Catholic churches usually have bazaars at least once a year. The girls attending will doll up and oversexed young men (like me), would come out to feed, drink, play bingo, flirt and hopefully get at least a number, or hopefully a pair of panties to add to his collection. Yes, going to church for all the wrong reasons is blasphemy, but light stuff compared to why some priests go. In the middle of a group of familiars, someone threw a bottle at us. No real reason, probably other than we were getting more attention from the ladies present than themselves. I got a slight whack of the ricocheting bottle and quickly went postal. Everyone in our group felt the same. The fun was about to begun. I was tipsy, but gave a fair account of myself in the ensuing maelstrom of fists and feet. Took a few to the face, got my shirt torn, but quickly took my shirt off when I heard the sirens. Then I walked quickly into the crowd of lookie-loo's. When the cops rolled up: I wanted to be a spectator and not a participant in the physical activities. Stockton P.D. has a bad habit of hitting everything that moves in a brawl until everyone stops moving. Out of the corner of my eye I espied the young hispanic guard walking directly toward someone twirling his ball bearinged baton and he then stepped into his target and let loose. The target put his arm up, took the hit from the magical baton, stepped in and knocked the guard flat on his ass. The guard just lay down with a stupid look on his face. Either the punch, the failure of his magic baton, or both, had put him in a stupified state. My face must have had the same look, because I was just as shocked. What in the hell could have gone wrong? Something that could move as fast as his baton, just should have knocked his target into a prone position. I learned that day: That with weapons and most everything else, theory is not necessarily fact. Before you put your ass on the line: You'd better do your homework. I watch a lot of stuff on Youtube and most of the stuff is great, but some of the theoretical techniques in my estimation are just too complex to bet my ass on. A regular police night stick would have quickly dropped the guards target on his ass. Some of the 13 step responses to a simple punch will get you on your ass as well.
From that day forward I realised that my knowledge of weaponry was weak. My assumptions regarding the fancy tonfa were clearly unfounded. I would have bet hard cash that anyone hit with the fancy baton would surely and quickly know that they had taken a telling blow. I went back to basics and have stayed there ever since. Most of the martial arts techniques that we can truly depend upon are based upon good physics. It amazes me that monks on top of hills, thousands of years ago, without knowledge of math and applied physics could develop MIT level martial techniques. We buff the ancient techniques, polish them, give them new names, etc., but we haven't really developed anything new. We delude ourselves to assuage our egos. Name any new martial system and there were low level monks, etc., who could kick most of our asses today. These men lived a closed, monastic lifestyle. Praying and others praying that one of the monks wouldn't hit them were their lives.
They didn't practise techniques until they got them right: They practised techniques until they couldn't do them wrong.
When men develop techniques during harsh times: They develop them with a clear mind. No bullsh!t need apply. Bread and butter techniques that are simple and effective under most conditions are the order of the day. Weaponry follows the same paths as their owners minds. Men who mean business do not stand around and twirl their weapons. Weapons are to hit things with. Can you imagine a shoot-out where everyone is standing around twirling their guns and not shooting in order to stay alive?
The true Master makes "every" hit count. Every hit "must" have the potential of ending the fight, period. With everything mentioned: I will start writing about the nuts and bolts of what I believe is important when training and apply.
Other articles by Master Saturno:
Notes
My deepest gratitude to Master Ron Saturno for his kind permission in
allowing me to repost his articles to my site.
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