Subdued...

It was some time in 1983. We'd had several seminars with visiting high-level Black Belts before.

This time it was with some guy named Sakurai. All we knew was that he was Japanese, and was the chief instructor for eastern Canada.

We started arriving at the gym, and it all felt very different. The instructors weren't smiling. Sakurai Sensei was travelling with a one-man entourage who outranked our own instructor. Foster Sensei and Sakurai Sensei's travelling companion were having a quiet, serious conversation.

Across the room stood an Asian gentleman. That had to be him, except he was wearing what looked to be a white belt. Students began stretching; unusually subdued. We kept firing glances at the unknown man across the room. After a time somebody announced, "That belt isn't white. It's worn out".

Suddenly it made sense. The black satin on his belt was completely worn away, except for the tiniest shadow of black at either end. Holy crap.

The class began. Sakurai Sensei would later become an excellent speaker of English, but back then his speech was somewhat challenging to understand. There was no smiling.

We did our best. We pushed our hardest. Still, it was obvious that Sakurai Sensei less than impressed.

I have no recollection of what we worked on, but I do remember exhaustion. By the end people were ready to drop. I remember feet worn down to blisters. I remember sweat.

I remember he scared the hell out of us.