Verbal Judo-Jitsu
STOP THE VIOLENCE
Chicago continues to live up to its reputation as a violent city. Everyday brings reports of more murders, carjackings, Lake Shore Drive shootouts, CTA stabbings, expressway shootings, and overall mayhem.
Sadly, the violence is everywhere. At 7:30am on Saturday, May 15th, 2021, I was downtown near Millennium Park and almost witnessed a man getting shot in the head at point blank range. But first, let’s backup the story.
Last spring, we had some exterior and interior maintenance scheduled for our condo building, so we moved out until its completion. We rented a temporary apartment in the South Loop which changed the trajectory of my morning commute to On Your Mark Coaching and Training. Usually, I would leave my Bridgeport neighborhood and take the CTA #8 Halsted bus northbound until reaching Halsted/Monroe in the West Loop. Now, coming from 16th/Indiana, I began taking the #3 King Drive or #4 Cottage Grove bus northbound on Michigan Avenue until reaching Madison Street, then transferring to the #20 Madison bus westbound to Aberdeen.
On this particular Saturday — after a normal morning of working with clients — my colleagues and I had afternoon training with Chicago Elite Volleyball at the OYM West Side facility in East Garfield Park. Per usual, I wore one of my Nike CHICAGO ELITE VOLLEYBALL sweatshirts to represent the program on training day. This time, I chose the varsity red with black and white lettering.
It was comfortably cool as I exited the #4 bus and crossed Michigan Avenue to wait for the connecting #20. The downtown streets were pandemic-empty; only a handful of people were out. There were two police cars parked outside the Chicago Athletic Association Hotel, but overall automobile and pedestrian traffic was quiet. I headed west toward the bus shelter at Madison/Wabash and saw a Black man wearing a red, soccer-style zip up sweatshirt approaching me.
As we passed each other, I noticed that (1) we were both wearing red sweatshirts and (2) he had three, religious-themed crosses tattooed to his forehead — the forehead tattoos were impossible to miss. About ten yards behind the Black man and moving in the same direction was an average dressed Asian man walking alongside a young boy, probably his 6-7 year old son. I moved to the left toward the bus shelter and was facing both men.
Unexpectedly, the Black man stopped, waited for the Asian man to close the distance, then quickly turned around and sucker punched him right in the face. POW! The impact staggered the Asian man, knocking the glasses off of his face and the Dunkin Donuts coffee cup out of his hand. The little boy, scared out of his mind, instinctively scampered out of the way toward one of the nearby storefronts. As a public school graduate, substitute teacher, and longtime athlete, I had seen many fights like this before. In the hallway. In the classroom. On the field. In the locker room. In most cases, the combatants knew each other and both parties wanted to fight. At this moment, the attack seemed like random violence. Was this an Asian hate crime? I had a scary feeling in my gut.
The Asian man gathered himself and after pausing to decide what to do next, chose to respond and pushed/punched/shoved the Black man. Still within close proximity of each other, the Black man continued with his second exchange, which also resembled a push/punch/shove. They separated, and the fight appeared to be over. Instead, the Asian man reached for his belt and pulled something dark off of it; I thought it was his phone.
It was a small handgun — not a phone — and he pointed it straight at the Black man’s face. They were an arm’s length away. Oh shit, I thought. The three of us were all standing within casual conversational distance of each other. I was closer to the Asian man’s right side, but he was hyper focused on his attacker standing directly in front of him. Our formation resembled a jagged, scalene triangle. The Asian man, screaming unintelligible words at his adversary, sounded angry enough to shoot the Black man right here on Madison across the street from Millennium Park.
The distance between them was so tight that regardless of his missing glasses or history with handgun-firing-accuracy, the odds of hitting the target were quite high. If he pulled the trigger, there was no way that he would miss. Besides, the Asian man was not only protecting himself but also protecting his son. Every potential outcome was possible.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, put the gun down. You don’t gotta do that,” I said, putting my hands up over my head. “Put it down, man. It’s OK. It’s over.” I don’t know why I spoke up; there was really no one else around to diffuse this situation. It felt like the right thing to do.
I caught his attention. With the gun still pointed at the Black man, the Asian man launched his gaze at me and his eyes looked fierce. Oh shit, I thought again. The Black man that just punched him in the face and the White man telling him to put the gun down are both wearing similar-looking red sweatshirts; does the victim think that we’re working together? What if, in a fit of rage, he points that gun at me?
Cooler heads prevailed and he lowered the weapon. The Black man power-walked away from the scene of the crime and headed westbound on Madison. The Asian man and the young boy ducked into a jewelry store with a blue awning in between Wabash and Michigan, not far from the attack. I got on the #20 bus and headed to OYM. No shots were fired. Everyone lived.
Whew.
****
Martial arts are a lifestyle; they are not just about fighting. Maintaining a clear mind and performing under unthinkable amounts of stress are just a few examples of the lessons that I have learned. I may express my art through taekwondo, judo, or Brazilian jiu-jitsu, but the physical training is only a small component. Yes, the situation by the bus shelter was stressful, but so is training with Sensei Doug Tono at Tohkon Judo Academy and Professor Tony Williams at Rebel Sport and Fitness. They are both better grapplers and force me to react to the situation as it’s happening; only the present moment matters. In addition, martial arts have taught me how to control my breathing and efficiently use my energy — on and off the mat.
Staying calm under chaos helped me throughout the aforementioned conflict last May. I used zero striking or grappling techniques; no punches, kicks, throws, takedowns, joint locks, or submissions. I had to use words as my weapons — verbal judo-jitsu. Fortunately, it worked. I am thankful to have learned from such amazing martial art masters, senseis, and professors. While I am not bulletproof and would prefer to never be involved in a gun-related conflict again, I am grateful that my training applied to this real-life setting.
“Trust your technique!” —Tony Williams