After seven years of Tae Kwon Do, I began my Ninjutsu training in the fall of 1996. I had finally found what I had been looking for; a practical self-defense system that seemed to address all aspects of self-protection. I loved my dojo. The training was fantastic and I had an incredible set of teachers. The classes were very intense, and I rarely left without a share of bruises and flesh grab marks. Needless to say, the school had a pretty small student base. I trained there for about a year, but as always, great things come to an end. After some fall-out among the teaching staff, the dojo closed. My primary teacher moved to California, and I ended up training with some other senior students that had started a training group. One day, I was told that my old teacher had stopped doing Ninjutsu, and had started doing boxing and wrestling. I was perplexed. Why would anyone stop training in Ninjutsu? The art had it all. Or did it? I put it in the back of my mind and continued training.

Time passed, and in 2002 I opened a dojo of my own. I would sometimes stay after my classes ended and train with a fellow practitioner and friend, Frank. After training, we would often sit around and watch UFC videos, and discuss how our type of training fit into the whole scheme of full-speed combat. One night at the dojo we decided to find out, and began pushing the envelope of our training. No more compliant uke, no more lunge punches, and no more half-hearted attacks. It started out with us attempting to get joint locks against full-speed grabs and punches. We both had a very mixed success rate. This success rate dropped even further when we kept the punches coming and randomized the attacks. We proceeded into full-blown sparring, and what began happening was very disheartening. We were quickly finding that the majority of what we knew was inapplicable to a “squaring-off” fighting situation. Was this why my former teacher left Ninjutsu?

We’ve all heard the saying before that “you fight how you train,” but how many of us have sat down and really thought about what that means? After being pummeled at full speed for a few weeks by what were seemingly basic attacks, I was forced to contemplate my outcomes. My techniques worked great against a semi-compliant, pre-determined attack, but things quickly fell apart against the flailing maniac street fighter. The reason I determined; I never trained against a flailing maniac street fighter. For that matter, I rarely even trained against cross punches, jabs, or roundhouse kicks, all of which I ate plenty of during those sobering weeks. I did, however, train against plenty of lunge punches and stomp kicks, and other classical armor-based attacks. So it occurred to me: Why have I been training against these styles of attacks for so long when my chances of facing a guy in armor are nonexistent? Chances are I was going to find myself against a boxer or a wrestler. Wait. Boxing and wrestling? Isn’t that what my former teacher was studying? It was beginning to all make sense. So I was now left with a potentially painful question: Had I wasted my time with all of that classical Taijutsu training over the past several years? After much thought, I finally came to a conclusion: yes and no. Before you call for my execution, please read on.

The techniques I found I could actually get on a full-speed, resistant uke were simply variations of techniques that I knew well. I could adapt to find joint locks simply because I was so familiar with how the body’s joints don’t bend, and I can attribute that familiarity to the endless repetitions against many semi-compliant and classically moving uke. The problem, however, was not my knowledge of bone-breaking. It was that I never moved on from the classical style of attack, and had never trained my eyes to recognize the right places and times to apply those bone-breaking techniques. I could get an Omote Gyaku almost at will against a classical lunge punch or semi-resistant grab, but against anything else, it was out of the question. My determination: Learning Omote Gyaku the classical way was beneficial. Training Omote Gyaku the classical way was not. That was the first major revelation of my training. Why not train against the style of attacks you are most likely to face? The purpose of the lunge punch was to either kill your opponent or knock down the opponent so that you could skew him with your sword. People don’t carry swords anymore, and they very rarely punch with the intent to kill. The conclusion here: the lunge punch is a virtually obsolete attack. So if it’s an unlikely attack, why do we spend so much time training against it? We shouldn’t. Train against jabs, crosses, and people shooting in on you. These are common attacks that you are far more likely to see than a lunge punch. After you’ve learned a technique the classical way, try the technique against modern-day attacks. You’ll more than likely find the need to adapt.

Training against classical attacks was only part of the problem. The other problem was timing, as in I had none. I sparred a lot in Tae Kwon Do. In fact, I’d spend at least a third of the class sparring. My reflexes were excellent, and I could recognize and counter incoming attacks with ease. Granted, my counters were usually kicks, but kicks were all I knew. When I began Ninjutsu, I developed the complete opposite problem. I had a ton of techniques at my disposal, but couldn’t apply any very well at a realistic speed against random attacks. If you’ve trained in Ninjutsu for any length of time and discussed sparring, you’ve likely heard that “the techniques are just too dangerous,” or “sparring is just a glorified game of tag.” I’m here to say that all of that for the most part is simply untrue. Now, not to say that in any way cage fighting is the ultimate test of martial skill, but it is about as close as you can get to a real fight in a controlled environment. The fighters are permitted to do just about anything, including any of the techniques in our Kihon Happo. So why is it that you never see an Onikudaki, Ura Gyaku, Muso Dori, or even an Uke Nagashi pulled off in the heat of a cage match? Surely if these were effective, devastating techniques they would be used, right? Actually they are used, but just not the way that they are typically practiced in Taijutsu. The problem is that we spend far too much time practicing these techniques in a classical manner; a way that will simply not work in a frantic, adrenaline-pumped battle against a modern day fighter. We may do some free response with a little resistance, but that simply cannot prepare us for the unpredictable flailing maniac street fighter. The only way to prepare for a fight is to spar, and by doing so you will build the timing experience to realize what is and isn’t possible when you are being ferociously pummeled repeatedly. Keep it controlled, wear protective gear, but by all means, spar!

I just mentioned that we do see the Kihon Happo in cage matches, and some of you may ask where. Simply look down. All of those techniques the fighters love to do on the ground are the same ones we do standing up. Key locks are Onikudaki, and Kimura are Muso Dori. Going back to the arguments in various online forums about Ninjutsu, the need for ground fighting is also a common one. Bluntly put, if you are not taking your Taijutsu to the ground, you have a massive hole in your training. I often read, “You should never go to the ground in a fight because his buddies will be stomping your brains out.” I completely agree; you shouldn’t go to the ground. However, there’s only one problem with that; sometimes you don’t have a choice. One must realize that there are no absolutes in a fight. You can very easily be taken to the ground. Matt Hughes, a wrestler, took down Royce Gracie, a Jiu-Jitsu master. Wrestlers are often greatly underestimated in the Ninjutsu community, which is very dangerous because they are plentiful in the population. Anyone can be taken down, including you. I sometimes hear as an excuse for a lack of ground fighting skills, “I can bite and eye-gouge.” Guess what? So can your opponent, and he may have ground fighting skills on top of that. You need to be able to out-grapple your opponent or know how to escape and get back to your feet. To do either, you have to have some knowledge of ground fighting. Many ground fighters will tell you that it is actually easier to defend on the ground than it is to get a technique on the other guy, so at the very least, know how to defend! Practice your Taijutsu on the ground and have the mentality to bite and eye-gouge, and you will be in good shape. Don’t wait until you suddenly find yourself the victim of a quick double-leg takedown from an angry drunken college wrestler. You can thank me later.

What you’ve just read are some things that I have had the joy and frustration of figuring out for myself. Had I not stepped out of the classical Taijutsu paradigm, I might still be training to fight samurai. It wasn’t an easy step though. I had to swallow my ego and accept that there may be better methods out there than I was practicing. If you can take that step, your training will be revolutionized, I guarantee it. I covered three important points in this article to make Taijutsu applicable to the United States in the 21 st century. First, make sure you are training against the way people fight today. It’s perfectly fine to learn Taijutsu the classical way, but once you understand the principles it’s time to move on. If you are spending countless hours making your Ichimonji deeper, or doing endless Henka from a lunge punch, you are only hampering your training. Watch some street fight videos online or rent a UFC video and study it, because that is what you are most likely up against, not an armor-clad samurai. Secondly, buy some gloves and headgear, and spar. Your timing will improve dramatically, I promise. It will also keep your training honest, because you will have that fight-speed pacing at the forefront of your mind. Striking your uke multiple times while he holds his arm out will quickly become a thing of the past. Finally, get on the ground and train. Whether you are taken down or you slip, it can happen.