Often stooped from age, little men hobble onto the mat, their thin wrists hidden within sleeves of uniforms held together by frayed black belts. Their bows are perfunctory but sincere, their faces calm with, sometimes, a slight smile. Opposite them are younger black belts, men whose strength and speed should roll up these oldsters and put them out of their misery.
And yet the strength and speed of these young black belts do not serve them well, and the result is almost comical. If it’s aikido, they seem perpetually off-balance, falling like tops. If it’s judo, their falls appear preordained, their attempted throws ineffectual, almost clumsy. If it’s karate, their kicks, swift and powerful, just miss.
Most martial arts have a few such meijin, “magicians” who seem to have traded…
