From Lee to Li: An A–Z guide of martial arts heroes

Only one man took Oyama up on his offer—a Korean tae kwon do expert called Kwan Mo Gun. Gun was first knocked out by two of Bluming’s students, who explained their actions thus: ‘If you go first, Sensei, there’ll be nothing left after.’

But each time Gun was knocked out he quickly awoke and got back up, saying ‘And now Bluming…’ Bluming had to admire the man’s guts, even as he beat him.

An even higher grade—in fact the very highest grade it is possible to attain—was given to Bluming upon the death of Mas Oyama in 1994. Bluming was now a tenth dan karateka (he has also a ninth dan in judō), and acknowledged worldwide as the real deal when it came to martial arts and self-defence.

He continues to travel the world teaching and lecturing, never afraid to publicly rubbish anyone he suspects of being a fraud or a fake in the martial arts’ world. (For an example of this, just check out the ‘Expelled Members’ section of his website.)

He also dismisses certain elements of karate kata (a serious of pre-set movements) as being a way for poor-quality sensei to use up the hours they should rather spend teaching their students how to fight.

Apart from warfare, Bluming has had numerous violent encounters on the street. One of which—between Bluming and five pimps, one of whom hit him with a hammer—ended badly for the aggressor. Bluming hit the pimp back and the man subsequently died in hospital. (Since then—unless his life absolutely depends on it—Bluming has vowed never again to hit anyone with a closed fist.)

Such encounters give the reason for Bluming’s martial arts’ philosophy: if it works, use it—never mind what style it’s from—and if it doesn’t (like various types of kata), forget it.

BODHIDHARMA

Legends concerning Bodhidharma abound, which makes discerning any real facts about him something of an impossible task. For example, he liked to walk everywhere, but was on occasion apparently able to float across a river on a large leaf.

What we can say with a reasonable degree of certainty is that he was a wandering Buddhist monk who lived sometime around the sixth century, and that he came to China from India.

It’s been suggested that Bodhidharma was from a young age an expert at kalaripayattu (often translated as ‘practising the arts of the battlefield’), a 3 000-year-old martial art that originated in South India, and is to this day practised to promote fluid, animal-like movements and a distinct feeling of inner peace.

Coming to China, Bodhidharma encountered a group of monks who’d grown fat and sluggish, too used to prayer and a lack of physical exercise. To counter this, Bodhidharma taught them what the Japanese refer to as kata in the martial arts (a series of pre-set movements), at which the monks became expert, thus establishing the martial arts in China.

Or (according to a different legend) he entered a period of deep meditation, sitting facing a wall within the Shaolin (’young forest’) Temple for nine years. When he finally got back up and left, he left behind him an iron chest full of manuscripts detailing the secrets of the martial arts, which the monks diligently studied following his departure.

Supporters of the belief that the martial arts originated in India and from there spread out East, like to relay the above stories. While others—who believe that man’s ability and willingness to fight is, and never has been, particular to any one country—prefer to keep a more open mind.

BRIGGS, KAREN ‘THE WHIPPET’

Forty-five at the time of writing, Karen Briggs has been World Judō Champion no less than four times. (She first won the title in 1982, aged eighteen, and successfully defended it at the 1984, 1986 and 1989 Judō World Championships.) She was twelve years old when she began practising judō, having previously been obsessed with becoming a professional footballer.

Known as ‘The Whippet’, Briggs would commonly ‘warm up’ for an intensive judō training session with a 6—to 8-mile run. The only thing that ever slowed her down were injuries—these included a broken leg (sustained while attempting to throw an opponent), and a right shoulder which was prone to popping out of its socket. Indeed, it was this troublesome shoulder that was responsible for finally ending Brigg’s career; in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, Brigg’s much younger opponent—the Japanese female judoka Ryoko Tamura (who had, ironically, previously declared that she idolised Briggs)—deliberately targeted the damaged part, something which enabled her to secure victory.

Karen Briggs now runs a judō club for children in her native Hull, East Yorkshire. In August 2008, she revealed that she’d recently had a breast removed due to cancer, but with typical fighting spirit went on to state that the ‘…future looks good’.

BROWN, DENNIS

One of the first Americans (or so it’s claimed) to train in the martial arts in mainland China, Dennis Brown gave up a promising career as a computer technician at the age of twenty so he could concentrate fully on being a kung-fu instructor.

Following his training in China, he was able to open his own school in the United States, and soon grew so well-known that he was called upon to act in the martial arts’ movies that were being made in Hong Kong and Taiwan.

The Chinese Embassy in Washington DC has made Brown their ‘Official Consultant of Wushu for the People’s Republic of China’ (wushu is Chinese for ‘martial arts’), and in 2000 the magazine Black Belt listed him as being one of the ‘25 Most Influential Martial Artists of the Twentieth Century’.

Brown, meanwhile, continues to emphasise the fact that the martial arts should be a way for people to improve their characters—not just learn how to fight.

BUDDHABHADRA

More simply known as ‘Batuo’, Buddhabhadra was a wandering Buddhist monk from India who has been immortalised as the founder of the Shaolin Temple, which is synonymous with wushu in China.

Batuo drifted into China around 464 AD, where he began preaching Buddhism. It must have taken him a while to achieve the necessary popularity, because only in 495 AD did the Emperor Xiaowendi (at the time busy with his attempts to make Northern China more united, including forcing its inhabitants to wear the traditional garb) give permission and the necessary funds for a shaolin si (’young forest temple’) to be built as Batuo’s base.

It was, by all accounts, something of a modest structure, with a round dome as its shrine and a small platform where Indian and Chinese monks translated Buddhist texts from Indian into Chinese.

It’s worth noting here that, at that time in China, Buddhism was praised more as being an educational system concerning how one should lead one’s life, rather than as a religion.

Thus, under Xiaowendi’s rule life did get a bit easier for his subjects. Short periods of imprisonment replaced mutilation as a punishment for many (not particularly serious) crimes, while the sick and the poor could expect to receive a certain amount of what we might now refer to as ‘care in the community’.

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CASSEUX, MICHEL

Michel Casseux (1794-1869) was a pharmacist who did much to develop the French martial art of savate (pronounced ‘sa-vat’), also known as boxe Française, or ‘French boxing.’

Evolving out of Parisian street fighting techniques that were, for whatever reason, particularly popular with sailors—including high kicks and ‘slaps’ rather than punches (to avoid the legal penalty for using a closed fist)—savate (the French for ‘old shoe’ or ‘old boot’—presumably a useful piece of footwear to wear during combat) was given a number of rules by Casseux, such as no headbutting, biting, or eye gouging.

A savate practitioner (if male, known as a savateur; savateuse, if female) was at something of an advantage when facing a boxer, as savate made—and continues to make—free use of such ‘standard’ martial arts’ leg techniques as a roundhouse kick. (Only the feet may be used when kicking; knees and shins are strictly forbidden.)

CHAN, HEUNG

The founder of the kung-fu system named Choy Lee Fut, Chan Heung was born in 1806. From an early age he was an avid student of kung-fu (first taught by his uncle, a Shaolin fighting monk), then in his early twenties he sought to expand his knowledge by seeking out a hermit named Choy Fook. (Choy, a former monk and martial arts’ legend in his own lifetime, lived on a nearby mountain. He apparently had a number of ugly scars on his head, which had resulted in his unfortunate nickname ‘Rotten Head Fook’.)

After some months of searching, Chan Heung eventually succeeded in finding Choy Fook, who seems not to have been particularly fond of company. Chan then trained under Choy for around a decade, eventually pioneering his own system which he named after Choy Fook and another teacher who’d instructed him, Lee Yau-Shan. (The Fut in the title, incidentally, is Cantonese for ‘Buddha’—something which Chan Heung believed imparted a ‘spiritual’ element to the system he’d evolved.)

Having fought against the British in China’s Opium Wars, Chan Heung later went to San Francisco, where he opened his own kwoon(martial arts’ training hall). He died in 1875.

CHAN, JACKIE

Born in Hong Kong on 7 April, 1954, Jackie’s parents christened him Chan Kong-sang, meaning ‘born in Hong Kong’. (Just in case there should have been any confusion over the matter, presumably.)

Almost as soon as he could walk, Chan was practising kung-fu with his father each morning, which it was hoped would help to instill such noble attributes as honesty, courage, and perseverance into the young boy.

When Chan was seven years old, his father was offered a job as a cook in the American Embassy in Australia. So off he and his wife went, leaving young Jackie in the tender loving care of the Peking Opera School.

Actually, there was nothing very tender or loving about the school. The child students there were drilled relentlessly in the martial arts, singing, acting, and acrobatics—all skills they would need for their intended life with the Peking Opera. The children were expected to learn quickly—and learn quickly they did; that is, if they wished to avoid being beaten and otherwise reprimanded in no uncertain terms.

Chan made his acting debut, aged eight, in the snappily entitled Seven Little Valiant Fighters: Big and Little Wong Tin Bar, and as he got a little older, found work as an extra in various other, long-forgotten films. He graduated from the Academy aged seventeen, only to discover that the Peking Opera would now not be requiring his services after all—it was no longer very popular, and was thus in the middle of firing rather than hiring.

Further limiting Chan’s employment opportunities was the fact that he could neither read nor write—two skills the Academy had apparently neglected to teach their students as they jumped through suspended hoops while singing operatic airs.

Desperate, Chan decided to become a stuntman, quickly earning a reputation for his almost suicidal lack of fear. Even seasoned professionals shied away from some of the stunts Chan was prepared to entertain, although to Chan it all came down to one simple choice: do the job and eat, or walk away and starve.

For a while he was doing reasonably well (he made a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearance in Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon), until the Hong Kong film industry started to do badly, and then even Chan had trouble finding work.

Running out of money, Chan was obliged to move to Australia to be with his parents. By all accounts he hated his time there, doing nothing more than menial construction jobs, although something came out of it that boded well for the future. One of Chan’s co-workers, who was having trouble pronouncing his full name, took to calling him just ‘Jackie’ instead

Then, pretty much out of the blue, Chan was contacted by one Willie Chan, who was working within the newly revitalised Hong Kong film industry.

‘I’ve been watching some of your stunts, and every one’s fantastic,’ said Willie. ‘How would you like to come back to Hong Kong and star in a film called New Fist of Fury?’