Reading threads from some forum members about their colorful former instructors, I've often reminised about one of mine. So...here goes: Back in the day (approxmately 1973, I was 18 years old at the time), a friend and I were freshemen in college and decided to join a karate school that had just opened for business. It was a Japanese style (I won't identify the specific style), and the instructor was a brown belt who was preparing to test for his shodan. He looked tough, talked tough and we were prepared to learn from what we thought was one of the best instructors, EVER. It was summer time, and we often trained barefoot in front of the dojo, on the (hot) asphalt parking lot. To learn to flow our ki, we stood in a line and kicked and punched each other as hard as we could, in the gut. All to toughen us up. As white belts, we practiced the standard beginner katas, sparred a little, and began to learn some takedowns and joint locks. Now, when the instructor was promoted to shodan, the real fun began. He'd spar with every student, and seemed to take great pleasure each time he'd knock us on our keister. We were sparring once and got into a clinch, and on the break, he threw a wicked reverse punch and bloodied my nose. He yelled at me to be ready at all times, keep my guard up and "don't you dare bleed on my floor!". OK, it was tough and we were verbally degraded but, never having studied in the martial arts we just thought it was part of the training. Later that summer, the instructor got a part-time job as a bouncer at a local disco (told you this was a long time ago!). He said we could use our school membershp cards to get into the disco free of charge, but we had to act as bouncers in exchange for the free admission. So one Friday night, my friend and I go down there, flash our dojo membership cards and, sure enough, they admit us for free. We're thinking, "This is sweet!". We went to the bar to get a beer and soon there was a commotion about ten feet away, near the dance floor. My friend and I looked at each other with some trepadation, and cautiously made our way toward the noise. There was our tough, fearless instructor, kicking the living crap out of some guy half is size who was too drunk to even stand up. The guy's grilfriend was begging the instructor to stop, that he didn't mean it, that the instructor was hurting him. The shodan kept reigning blows and kicks on the poor guy, laughing and joking with the other bouncers, it was unbelievable. My friend and I went up to the shodan, scared out of our minds, and as respectfully as we could, asked if he thought the drunk had had enough. Mercifully, sensei agreed and we carried the poor guy out of the bar, put him in his girlfriend's car and they left. It seemed that the drunk slammed into the sensei as he was dancing and spilled his drink, then just kept walking (more like staggering) and didn't apologize. Absolutely unforgivable. The next day, shaking in our boots, my friend and I went to the dojo, turned in our gi's and told the sensei we wouldn't be back. He challenged us to fight him, right then and there, but we left. He threatened to kick our a$$ if he ever saw us again, so we made ourselves pretty scarce for about a whole year. I got back into training about 16 years ago, different style, different instructors, and have stayed with it ever since. My former sensei? The guy now gives seminars on the national circuit; I've seen him pictured on some fliers and websites with famous martial artists like Bill (Superfoot) Wallace. Even saw him pictured in a couple of MA magazines. Wonder if he remembers me...?