March 9, 1999 — I was never much good at roller skating.
So when my fourth grade friends and I headed to our local rink, I was not among those rolling on rented skates, singing to the beat of Eddie Grant’s “Electric Avenue.”
I was safely on the other side of the wall, shoveling the money I didn’t spend on skates into an arcade game called Kung-Fu Master.
But I still sang along to “Electric Avenue.” Really, how couldn’t I?
In the arcade I was the Kung Fu Master, trying to rescue my girlfriend Sylvia from the clutches of the evil Mr. X and his henchmen, the “five sons of the devil,” each an expert in a different martial art.
Along the way, I had to kick, punch, jump and duck my way through countless elite fighters and knife throwers — and the occasional gang of fighting midgets — to earn a hug from the beautiful Sylvia.
I disliked roller skating so much, that I mastered Kung-Fu Master, and the initials “DCW” dominated the game’s leaderboard.
Given my early-1980s success in the fake world of kung fu, it seems only natural that I, 16 years later, would find myself attempting crescent kicks in the back row of a real-life kickboxing class at Haymore’s United Karate in Gainesville.
I didn’t recall working up quite as much of a sweat in the arcade.
“Seventy percent of the people that come in here have little interest in the combat aspect of kickboxing,” says Jim Haymore, the 41-year-old fifth-degree black belt who brought United Karate to Gainesville 19 years ago. “They just want to do it for the exercise. The martial arts world didn’t make kickboxing popular. It was the new fitness craze that made kickboxing popular.”
Kickboxing seems to be everywhere these days. The ladies of the popular television show Ally McBeal tried it. And when is the last time you’ve turned on your television and not seen an advertisement for Tae-Bo, which essentially is kickboxing moves set to music.
My non-contact beginner’s class gave me a glimpse at what all the fuss is about.
Haymore’s beginner instructor Mike Eads packs a lot into his 50-minute classes. Once Eads enters the room, the class of 25 — ranging from those in grade school to those with gray hair — stands at attention, a stance known as June Be. Then, class and instructor exchange bows.
“Did everybody sign in?” barks Eads.
“Yes sir!” the class responds in unison.
After a series of stretches, sit-ups and push-ups, we were back in June Be.
“Fighting stance move!” yells Eads.
At once, as one, the class steps back with its right foot, and brings its hands to its face, ready to block.
For the next 20 minutes, Eads shouts out kicks, punches and combinations, with little pause in between.
“Ten times each side! I want to hear you yell after each one!”
High rising kick. Inside-outside crescent kick. Outside-inside crescent kick. Jab. Round kick. Reverse punch. Jab-punch combination. Jab-punch, front kick. Jab-punch, duck, jab. Block and punch. Side kick. Block, reverse punch. Jab-punch, round kick. Five push ups. Five crunches. Get a drink of water. Thank God.
After the short break we paired up and broke out the blue kicking pads. This is when the line between non-contact and contact blurs, and the real fun begins.
“This is great relaxation during tax season,” says my partner Barclay Rushton, a 49-year-old Gainesville Certified Public Accountant, finding great pleasure in taking his frustrations out on the blue pad in my arms. “In my profession, you go to bed, but you’re not tired. You’re brain’s exhausted but you’re not physically tired. After I come here, I sleep like a baby.”
I’m sure when Barclay was holding the blue pad for me, he wasn’t aware that he was facing the famous Kung Fu Master.
With every kick I took out one of the five sons of the devil.
And when my powerful reverse punch finished off the evil Mr. X, I let out a triumphant yell.
But when I looked around, beautiful Sylvia was nowhere to be found.
That’s OK. I was too sweaty for her to hug me anyway.