Way

of the Modern Day Samurai

A true story about living according to the Samurai Code
of Honor in the modern world by Enson Inoue.













 A special message from Fighter to Fighter "I don't really look up to a whole
lot of fighters, but Enson had a big impact on me. A lot of guys fight just to win,
fight and not get hurt. But those guys, they would rather die than give up.

Igor Vovchanchyn was a killer back when Enson fought him. He was in his
prime, murdering people... and Enson stood his ground and didn’t give up. I was
amazed by his perseverance; how he kept going like he didn’t have a care in the
world. He was just out there, fighting -- the way I think MMA should be. We’re
different from boxing. He has a true warrior spirit and not every fighter has that.
Even some champions don’t have a true warrior spirit, but Enson does.

Some people only want to fight people they know they can beat. It’s not a
challenge if you know you can beat them. Some fighters know they’re getting
beat and they just turtle up or they just tap out right away. And honestly, I don’t
look up to guys like that. Why should I?

It’s not about a record. Just because some fighter is undefeated, doesn’t mean he
has the best fighting spirit. Maybe he’s a good athlete. Maybe he’s got a game
plan for everybody. That doesn’t mean he has samurai spirit – that’s what I call
it.

A lot of warriors came out of Enson’s day. He was one of the founders of the
sport, fighting over in Japan when it was the biggest show on the planet. This
was before the UFC rose. I don’t know if a lot of new fans understand that back
then, PRIDE, in Japan -- that was the show. That was the "Mecca." They had the
toughest fighters on the planet, and Enson was one of them. There were a couple
of other killers out there, but only a few I look up to."

– Quinton Ramone “Rampage” Jackson Dedicated to my Mother,
Father, and Brother Egan, and to my Yamatodamashii Ichizoku for whom I
would die today if I had the chance.


“A Samurai that goes into battle with the will to die, Will surely live.
While the Samurai who goes into battle to survive Will surely die.
Where the body may die,
The spirit will rise.”









Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my Mother and Father for raising me and for the sacrifices
they made to give me all a child could ask for. They taught me the values and
beliefs I would willingly die for.

Thank you Egan, my brother, for being the role model I needed in my younger
days and being the reason why I don’t smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol to this
day.

I am grateful for having the best friend in the world, Darren Suzuki. He has
been with me in thick and thin and I wouldn’t be here today if he wasn’t by my
side.

I would also thank Tommy Hackett, Lanning Lee, Eamer “Beaver”, and Burton
Richardson for their contributions to the book.

Thank you to Hody Jae Huh, Yamatodamashii Ichizoku’s official photographer,
for the photos throughout the years.

Also much aloha to my sister Alice Leary Inoue for her guidance, support, and
wisdom. She helped me step-by-step to make this book a reality…

I’d like to thank my Tarling, SJ McCann for putting all the finishing touches
together. Without her help this book would still be stuck in my computer.

…and to my beloved boy, Shooto who left me for Doggy Heaven 4 years ago.
He was an American Red-nosed Pitbull. He was a pup from Egan’s dogs and
was born in Hawaii. At three months I brought him over to Japan and he was
with me for the next 14 years, with me practically 90% of the time. He was a
companion, brother and best friend all in one and I miss him dearly. Rest in
peace and be nice to the other doggies in Doggy Heaven.

Last but not at all least, I would like to give a shout out to my Yamatodamashii
Ichizoku that spreads all over the world.


Table of Contents

Foreword
Introduction
Chapter 1: The Beginning
Chapter 2: Guided to the right road... A good change Chapter 3: New venture –
Racquetball
Chapter 4: Egan my Role Model
Chapter 5: National Amateur Racquetball Championships – Riot Chapter 6: First
Big Move Away From Home
Chapter 7: Road to Jiu-Jitsu... My next love.
Chapter 8: Street Fight in Seattle
Chapter 9: Japan – The Beginning of My Life
Chapter 10: Scared and confused – Renewing my Visa
Chapter 11: Culture Shock – I'm NOT Japanese???
Chapter 12: A Man’s Dying Wish

Chapter 13: Controlling the Fire Within

Chapter 14: My Debut into MMA – Shigeta Shingo
Chapter 15: Bad Rules – Rene Rooze
Chapter 16: Arm bar, I’ll break it – Ed De Kruijf
Chapter 17: Wow I might actually be good at this – Andre Manard
Chapter 18: Catching a Robber
Chapter 19: Rude Awakening – Joe Estes I
Chapter 20: The End – Igor Zinoviev
Chapter 21: I'm not just finished just yet – Mushtaq Abdullah Chapter 22:
Slapped in the face by Jiu-Jitsu – Rei Zulu
Chapter 23: Shooto Meeting
Chapter 24: Problem with Relson Gracie – Ridiculous Ultimatum Chapter 25:
Pan American BJJ Riot
Chapter 26: Unexpected Change Sayama Fired
Chapter 27: Birth of Yamatodamashii – The Spirit of the Samurai
Chapter 28: Yamatodamashii T-shirt Debut
Chapter 29: Journey to Augusta, Georgia – UFC 13
Chapter 30: Pain Is Temporary, Pride Is Forever – Kawana Chapter 31:
Redemption – Joe Estes II
Chapter 32: Founded Yamatodamashii Ichizoku
Chapter 33: War… Leaving it ALL in the ring – Frank Shamrock Chapter 34:
Nothing is Impossible – Randy Couture
Chapter 35: Taste of BJJ - 1999 Super fight – Mario Sperry, Abu Dhabi Chapter
36: Guam – My 2nd Home
Chapter 37: Debut in the Big Show – Pride
Chapter 38: Not Fully Healed – Pride 7
Chapter 39: 2000 Shukan Post trouble
Chapter 40: Totally Controlled – Mark Kerr
Chapter 41: Ready to Die in the Ring – Igor Vovchanchyn Chapter 42: My
Secret Retirement Fight – Heath Herring Chapter 43: Egan vs. Guy – Pride plays
games with me Chapter 44: Marriage – The Next Chapter Chapter 45: Paparazzi
– Feeling of being Stalked Chapter 46: Deceit – Relinquishing the Shooto Belt
Chapter 47: Bought My House – The House that Fighting Built Chapter 48:
Norifumi Yamamoto – The Birth of “KID”
Chapter 49: Kid's New Love – MMA Chapter 50: Nori's Japan Debut –
Beginning of a Superstar Chapter 51: Nori failed the dope test – Marijuana
Chapter 52: Purebred Tokyo, Killer Bee – Yakuza Run Chapter 53: 2001
Purebred Kyoto – Nicest MMA gym in Japan Chapter 54: 2002 February
Comeback fight – Nogueira Chapter 55: Separated – The End is Near Chapter
56: Divorced at Narita Airport Chapter 57: My Heart Broke – I'm Sorry Erson
Chapter 58: 2002 Purebred Osaka Chapter 59: Falling out with KID 233
Chapter 60: Kazama Ken – Scheme Revealed Chapter 61: Beating up a Yakuza
– Aikawa Kumichou Chapter 62: HARD TIMES – 2003 Sakai Steals Chapter
63: Civil Court Case Chapter 64: Pro Wrestling Debut – New Japan Pro
Wrestling Chapter 65: Fight for My Second Home, Guam Chapter 66: 2004
Fight in Hawaii – Tom Sauer Parting Words: Death



Foreword

This book has been in the making for 5 years and I am very happy to be able to
present you with Volume One of my life story. Aside from my desire to put out
a good product, there have been numerous events that have delayed the
progress. The biggest most significant thing that delayed the progress of this
book happened on March 11, 2011. A 9.0 magnitude earthquake hit Japan, the
country I fell in love and have called home for 22 years, triggering a Tsunami
that demolished the east coast of northern Japan.

Surges that reached the heights of over 100 feet swept over the coast of Japan
killing over 15,000 people and leaving over 200,000 homeless. Then, as if that
wasn’t enough there was a meltdown of three nuclear reactors resulting in
100,000 more losing their homes. I’ve been on 23 missions and counting to
bring much needed supplies and aid to the unfortunate people of North Japan.

I currently have a Power Stone crafting business called Destiny Forever LLC
that helps supplement my trips up North and a portion of sales of this book will
also help me continue to bring aid to the people.

Another event that delayed the progress was my “Walk Across Japan” My life
went to a stand still when I put everything I had into walking 1360 miles from
Hokkaido to Kyushu. It took me 67 days and raised over $12,000 for the people
of North Japan.

Other than raising funds to help the people of Japan, this book was not written
for financial purposes. The purpose of this book was to put on paper my
philosophy of life that I have developed and am continually developing through
the trials and experiences in my life. As a MMA fighter I have inspired many in
various walks of life and, although my fighting career has come to an end, I have
been blessed with the ability to continue inspiring people outside of the ring.

I decided to write this book to explain my way of life, hoping it can inspire more
to live the life that I will live until the day I die, The Yamatodamashii Way. The
Way of the Samurai.

It’s about living a life of compassion and honor based on integrity and loyalty
for all things that are important in your life. I believe that living the way of
Yamatodamashii is the ultimate way to live. I may never attain it, but plan to
strive to get as close as I can until the day I die.

Yamatodamashii is a way of life!!!






Introduction

My reputation today is of a modern samurai. It was emphasized most in my
"Kill or Be Killed" fight style, but what many fail to realize is that my beliefs
and strengths started at a very precious young age. I would like to share with all
of you many of the experiences in my life that have molded me into the man I
am today. These experiences have fostered the beliefs I am willing to die for at
any moment.

Pain is Temporary and Pride is Forever.
My Dear friend Danny... Please forgive me.

There are some things in your life that you forget in a year, many more you that
you forget in 5 years. Then there are a select few that leave deep footprints in
your heart, which you will remember like yesterday for the rest of your life!
Those that leave those footprints in your heart can never be forgotten. They sit
in the shadows of your mind, very rarely becoming visible, but when they do,
they are as vivid and clear as the day they happened. Some of those select few
are just memories that linger in your memory banks and some are like a diamond
in the rough that are etched so deep in your heart that it plays a big part on the
person that you are today. I'd like to share with you one that happened about 37
years ago when I was just a precious innocent elementary school boy...

When I was 9, I was attending Manoa Elementary School where 80 percent of
the kids were Japanese-American. It was a peaceful school located in Manoa
Valley where violence and crime was very rare. Both of my parents were
schoolteachers and the earliest they got home was 5 or 6pm. So when the school
bell rang to end the day at 2:15pm, I had a lot of free time to kill. Some days I
would go to the stream and fish or hang out in the park for hours with my best
friend Darren and my cousin Gary. There were also times that I would just go
home and play with my dogs, Tora and Bucky or shoot hoops in my driveway.
On some of those days, an older boy named Danny, who was about 14 years old,
would accompany me to the park to kick his soccer ball around or to just hang
out. About 2-3 times a week for about a month Danny would hang out with me
and I really enjoyed his company.

Then one day, one just like any other day, Danny and I were kicking his soccer
ball around in Manoa Park when out in the distance I noticed five or six
Hawaiian boys about the same age as Danny heading towards us. As they got
closer I could hear shouting, “Haole Boy!” taunting him and calling him things
like "fag," "homo," "wimp," and other derogatory names. I realized that these
boys were kids from Danny's school, a rougher school, a school that mixed the
meek timid kids from Manoa Elementary with the bigger, scary Hawaiian kids
from Papakolea and Pauoa.

Danny's school was Stevenson Intermediate School It was where all the kids
from Manoa Valley would be transferred to after completing elementary school.
All the smaller, weaker Japanese -American kids dreaded the day they would be
transferred to Stevenson. As those Hawaiian boys got closer, I could see fear
building up in Danny, making me scared and petrified, wishing it was all a
dream. Then before I knew it, the boys began beating up Danny, not saying a
word to me or acknowledging my presence. I froze. I was too scared to help
Danny and too scared to even utter the word, "stop." I just watched and prayed
that it would end soon or that this was all just a dream.

After what seemed like an eternity, Danny was curled up on the ground, beaten
and at their mercy. Then, as if beating Danny wasn't enough, one of the boys
picked up a piece of dog shit and put it on Danny's head and eventually tried to
make him eat it. Danny was crying, they were laughing, and I was terrified.
When they had their fill of humiliating Danny, they walked off in the park
laughing and play punching each other, disappearing in the distance just as
suddenly as they appeared.

So many thoughts were going through my head; so many emotions churning like
a typhoon in my soul. Why didn't I help Danny? Why couldn't I stand up for
my friend? I quickly walked up to Danny, leaned over to him and asked him if
he was okay. Danny then started getting up without looking at me, brushed off
the grass on his clothes and just walked away without saying a word. I felt so
lost and alone, like I betrayed Danny. As I slowly walked home, my heart
ached. I wanted to rewind the hands of time. I wished I had one more chance to
do something, anything to help Danny.

I had been afraid to get involved. Fearing that I would be beaten up too, possibly
getting hurt enough to be hospitalized with a broken bone or some sort of
fracture. What I didn't realize at the time was that the scar this incident left
etched in my heart was by far incomparable to any broken bone I may have
suffered. What I came to understand is that, any physical injury I may have
endured if I stood up for Danny would be so small and minute compared to the
scars in my heart I still have today from not standing up for a dear friend. Any
injury I would have sustained would have healed and been long forgotten within
a few months, but the emotional damage I received from not standing up for
Danny to this day still hurts in my heart as if it were yesterday. Unbelievably,
37 years—nearly four decades— later, as I recall that horrible day, my heart
hurts so much it feels like someone is squeezing it in a vice. Was Danny mad?
Was he too embarrassed to face me again? These are questions that were left
unanswered, for that was the last time I ever saw Danny again.

Even today, I wonder how Danny is and where he is. Does he even remember
me? Does that humiliation still linger in his heart? Is he even alive? Will I ever
see him again? I also wonder if he even remembers this day like I do, or is it just
a faded memory of his childhood.

For me, this incident made a big impact on my life, playing a major part of what
kind of man I am today. Never, ever again will I betray a friend like I did that
day in the park. I would rather die than put myself through the pain and the guilt
of sacrificing someone important in my life for my safety. The pain of a broken
arm or a fractured leg is nothing to the pain of scarring my pride and
endangering my honor as a man. I have people that are close to my heart called
my Family. In Japanese Family is translated as Ichizoku. There are numerous
people that without a split second of hesitation, I could die for. These people,
my Yamatodamashii Ichizoku, I would be honored to die for! As vice versa I
know they would for me. Dying is easier than living life with no honor. Physical
pain is no comparison for the pain in your heart you will feel by hurting your
pride. Enduring any pain, setback, or even death to keep your all-important
pride intact is so very important. Without pride there is no honor. Without
honor you are not a man. If I cannot be a man of honor I would rather die. A
man without honor is better off dead.

"I'd rather die tomorrow for something, than live forever for nothing."

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Although I am fourth generation Japanese-American, my blood is pure
Japanese. However, because I was born in Hawaii, my nationality is American
and I spoke no Japanese. During World War II, colonies of Japanese emigrated
from Japan to try to create better lives for their families. The biggest migration
would be to three places: Brazil, California, and Hawaii.

My great-grandparents were originally from Kyushu and Hiroshima and
migrated to Hawaii. Living in a foreign land with a totally different language and
culture, they became determined to continue the purity of the Japanese blood by
discouraging mixed race marriages. They also were very proud of their Japanese
heritage, holding on tight to the Japanese customs and beliefs, unusually more
than the Japanese people themselves. That is probably why I am sometimes told
that I am more Japanese than Japanese, which to me is a great compliment.

In my family, from my great-grandparents, to my grandparents, all the way
down to my mother and father, there were no interracial marriages. The
Japanese-American community was a tight group, so my blood, even though I
am fourth generation Japanese-American, is 100 percent pure Japanese. I am no
different from the Japanese in Japan except that I held a passport from the
United States of America and, having been born in Hawaii, my language and
ways were more like Americans.

The Japanese language was also lost through the generations. My great-
grandparents, because they were Japanese citizens, spoke no English, so for my
brother Egan and I to communicate with them we needed our grandparents to
translate for us. My grandparents needed to speak Japanese to communicate
with their parents and needed to speak English to survive in Hawaii so they
spoke both broken Japanese and broken English. They had just enough Japanese
to communicate with their parents and just enough English to survive and get
around in Hawaii.

Because my grandparents spoke English, although broken, my mother and father
didn't need to learn the Japanese language. My parents were fluent in English
with a few Japanese words here and there. The fourth generation, Egan and I,
spoke absolutely no Japanese. Our native language was English.

My family was very sports orientated and also very much involved with the
Martial Arts. My grandfather was a 4th degree black belt in Karate while my
mother was a brown belt and even Egan was on his way to get his black belt. So
it was such a natural thing to enroll me in a Karate class too, at the young age of
5. I felt ready and was a bit excited to begin Karate.

So here I was the baby of the family setting foot in a local Karate dojo with my
first Martial Arts teacher, Darryl Lee. The first two classes weren't too bad. I
learned katas, the basic stance, and basic punches and blocks. I was actually
beginning to enjoy Karate, though the hardest part was memorizing the katas.
Then on the third day it all went downhill. The class was moving through the
same routine. But this time, after we were told to get into our basic stance,
Sensei Lee began walking around the dojo checking everyone’s stance. He was
giving everyone’s stance a swift firm check with a sweeping kick to one of our
legs. I was confident and proud to be in my Karate stance. When my turn came
around, as much as I felt sure my stance was okay, I was getting more and more
butterflies the closer Sensei Lee got to me.

As my turn came I braced myself for his kick and to my surprise I was shocked
to find myself flat on my ass. My stance must have sucked because with one
swift sweep Sensei Lee kicked my legs out from under me. I didn't know what
to feel. I felt like an alien who was beamed down to earth, lost and feeling as
helpless as a newborn deer taking his first steps. Then suddenly tears began
pouring down my cheeks and like something took control of me I got up and ran
out of class. I just ran. I ran out of the Dojo, down the stairs and to the nearest
pay phone. My first instinct was to get home back to the sanctuary of my home
and my parents and feel safe.

However, I was faced with two major setbacks: I didn't have loose change to
make the call and I couldn't reach the phone. My desire to get home was so
strong I pushed my shame aside and walked over to a construction worker who
was doing construction on the main road and said, "Excuse me sir, can I have 15
cents to make a call?" The surprised construction worker looked at me and
without a moment’s hesitation he reached into his pocket and pulled out a
quarter. As he was trying to hand it to me instead of reaching out my hand I
said, "988-4811." The construction worker glanced over at the phone and
realized that I couldn't reach the coin slot or the dial. He smiled, took the phone
off the hook, handed it to me, inserted the quarter and dialed, 9-8-8-4-8-1-1.
When my mother answered the phone my emotions took control of me and I
screamed, bawling, "Pick me up!!! I hate Karate!!!"

I never returned to that Karate class and I don't ever remember getting any
pressure from my mother or father to go back or to be a man. As far as I was
concerned, I was done with the martial arts.

The culture we were brought up in was typically American, but in our household
we held on strong to some Japanese traditions and beliefs. For example we
didn’t wear any outdoor footwear indoors, we didn’t clip our fingernails at night
and we didn’t put our feet anywhere the head would go. It was a unique mixture
of the traditional American "Lady First" way and the quiet but effective humble
Japanese style. This style of the Japanese I really respected. Never boasting
about what you can do but instead letting actions speak for themselves. I grew
up in nice, peaceful Manoa Valley in Honolulu, where the majority of the
residents are Japanese-American. However after graduating from safe Manoa
Elementary School, everyone who didn't transfer to a private school transferred
to the rougher Stevenson Intermediate School. All the Japanese-Americans
dreaded going to Stevenson because it combined four other districts, including
districts with many rowdy Hawaiians and Samoans. The Japanese were always
targeted because we were so much smaller and weaker.

As Elementary school kids I was a rascal and sometimes it got me into trouble.
One of these time I was forced to do something I never expected. I was in the
5th grade and sometimes after school, instead of walking home my father would
pick us up at the gym. On this particular day my cousin Gary and I were running
around and playing in the gym. I can't remember exactly what we did but some
how we pissed off one of the biggest 6th graders in the school, Glen Cambra.
He was pissed and was trying to catch us but because he was so big he couldn't.
I was taunting him knowing my father would be here soon and had to stay out of
reach for just a bit longer.

Finally when my father finally arrived Gary and I ran behind my father and felt
safe and protected. I began making faces at Glen taunting him when suddenly
my father stepped aside and said, "What? They making trouble? Go get them."
I couldn't believe my ears. I felt like a poodle barking at a Pitbull knowing he
has a chain around his neck only to realize that the chain wasn't connected to
anything. I looked at Glen and he looked at us with a grin like he was about to
devour two chunks of steak. Gary and I had no choice. We couldn't run with
my father watching so taking on the big man was the only way. I decided to take
the initiative and went in for the attack. I ran up to Glen and gave him a big
front thrust kick square into his belly. To my surprise he didn't budge. Instead I
bounced off him and fell to the ground. As I got up Glen began preparing to
close in on me when suddenly Gary went rushing towards Glen and began to
wrestle with him. I soon joined in until we took control of him. Glen lost his fire
to fight and without anyone getting hurt the fight was over.

On the way home my father told us that if we make trouble we will need to fight
our own battles. At this young age of 11, I was taught a big lesson. I was taught
that I must take responsibility for my actions and fight my own battles.

From the accumulation of stories I had heard about Stevenson, on my first day at
the new school the anticipation alone had me scared and uneasy. At the first
lunch break, I noticed that all the groups were segregated. The Vietnamese hung
out in one corner, the geeks in another, the scary Hawaiians and Samoans in the
far corner, and the Japanese in another corner. We all dreaded the Hawaiians
because they were big, scary-looking, and very noisy and disorderly. They
would intimidate us and the older ones would pick out certain guys and take
their lunch money. There were times my friends and I gave them our lunch
money because we were afraid of getting beat up.

One day my father found out that I was giving away my lunch money. Instead
of calling the principle, he called me in for a talk. When I walked in the room he
got straight to the point: "Hey, I hear that some of the Hawaiian boys at school
have been taking your lunch money."

My heart practically stopped, and I froze and didn't say a thing. He continued:
"What's the matter with you? You cannot stand up for yourself? Well, the next
time you decide to give up your lunch money because you're scared of the
Hawaiians, when you come home you can fight with me!" Now my father was
like God, so the last person I would ever want to fight was my Dad! I would
rather fight five Hawaiians all at once instead of fighting my father.

The following week, sooner than I expected, the time came. I saw the
Hawaiians coming my way and my heart began to pound. Just as they
approached me the school bell rang, signifying the end of the day. Every day we
all sprinted for the bus to get a seat and my muscles twitched wanting to get up
and run for the bus. If I ran I would avoid this confrontation, but I knew it was
inevitable. I felt that the sooner it happened, the better. So instead of running, I
just sat where I was. Sure enough, the leader of the gang, Billy, walked straight
up to me and said, "Hey Japanese boy, I like some money so I can buy juice!"

My heart began to pound ten times faster. I though to myself, "Oh, shit! Here
goes!" I took a deep breath, looked up at Billy, and in a soft voice said, "No."
Billy was much bigger than me and was considered crazy. I was scared, but the
words my father told me were stuck in my head. He stopped in his tracks -— as
if he’d seen a ghost — then blurted out, "What?! What the fuck did you just
say?!" Without hesitation I repeated in a louder voice, "No." He took a step
back, took off his shirt and said, "You stupid Jap, now I'm going to fuck you
up!" Don't ask me why, but back then when guys got into fights they always
took off their shirt. He didn't attack but instead he began jumping around with
his shirt off screaming obscenities at me and telling me that I was going to die
today. Then a Hawaiian girl came screamed at me, "You stupid Japanese boy,
just give him your money or he going put you in the hospital!"

Just before it seemed we were going to start fighting, a bunch of campus walkers
came up and broke us apart. I wasn't struggling much, but it seemed that Billy's
fury escalated just as he was grabbed. That confused me: He had enough time
to "fuck me up" before the campus walkers came but didn't. I was terrified but
definitely didn't show it. I stood facing him without taking my eyes off of him
even for a second. They pulled Billy into a room. I left to catch my bus home.

The news of this incident seemed to have spread around campus, and I got a new
type of respect from all the other students, except for Billy and his gang. Billy,
Puna, and Avis, Billy's boys, would stare me down, give me the middle finger,
and shout obscenities at me every chance they had. However, the funny thing is
it was all verbal abuse, and they never laid a hand on me. Also I no longer had
to run to the bus stop to guarantee myself a seat on the school bus, my seat was
always saved and I would just take my time and walk down to the bus stop while
the others ran. The newfound fear and respect felt good but I wasn’t ready for it.

Because I was so young, I didn’t really understand what it meant and didn’t
know how to react properly to it. It felt good to be spoken to by kids with fear in
their voices. Going on day-by-day knowing everyone feared me felt so good. So
good in fact, I unfortunately took advantage of the fear in a very bad way.

Instead of stopping the hijacking and bullying, I turned around and began
hijacking all the other guys in the Japanese community, taking over right where
the Hawaiian bullies left off. I was blinded by the instant surge of power and
lost control of it then began hijacking and bullying others, forgetting what it felt
like being on the other end.

There was an instance where I would demand a fellow student, Clinton Choy, to
pay me $20 dollars a week for protection from me. I would also make him carry
my books to class even though his next class wasn't the same as mine.

I turned into something I hated. I learned that standing up for myself not only
made me feel better about who I am but it changed what people thought of me.
The power felt good and I craved more of it. Unknowingly, I was thrown onto
the wrong path, the path of a person who does whatever he wants and enjoys
himself at the expense of others.

However, the positive thing that was embedded in my soul was the courage to
stand up for myself in the midst of fear. To this day, whether it’s a 300 pound
muscle man, or ten gangsters, or a prominent Yakuza figure, I will stand up for
myself until the end, even if it would mean dying. If I didn't do anything wrong,
and it was to protect my honor or my family, I would die today if I had to
without a split second of hesitation.

Ironically, I ran into Billy about seven years ago at a McDonald's. I recognized
him, and I'm sure he recognized me, too. Surprisingly, he was a lot smaller than
me now. He glanced over at me for a moment, looked away, and never looked
back my way. I recalled the past, laughed to myself, and decided to let him be.
After all, he played a big part in helping me become the man I’ve become
today! Maybe I should have thanked him.

"Live as a Man. Die as a Man. Become a Man."

All the hard times and trials you have in your life are like little tests to prepare
you for the ultimate test of Death! The strength in your heart and the undying
fire in your sprit a split second before your death will determine if you passed
the ultimate test of dying. If you die as a coward you will have failed the final
test and therefore did not become a man. But if you died with fire in your heart
fighting and being strong until the very end, then you have passed the final
horrific test of death and have become a man.

However, living life like a man is something I try to do everyday. I'm still in the
process of building the strength in my heart to be able to die as a Man and there
are episodes in my life that assure me that I'm on the right path.



 Chapter 2: Guided to the right road... A good change

At Stevenson Intermediate I was forced to change. However, it is difficult to
stay on the right course, especially when you are a kid. My change in Stevenson
was for the good but I wasn't able to recognize what the right course was and
how to stay on it. I went from a quiet boy who was being hijacked to a brave
boy who stood up for himself to an overly proud boy who began hijacking and
bullying fellow students.

I spent two years in Stevenson Intermediate and was preparing for my 3rd and
final year before moving on to Roosevelt High School. I was to rule Stevenson
in my final year even more dominantly for I would now be the in the top class as
far as age brackets. It would be like my last hurrah before moving to Roosevelt
and once again becoming the youngest class in the school. A part of me dreaded
the move to Roosevelt but another part of me felt excitement inside because
there was a chance that I may be conquering and bullying fellow students on a
bigger scale, meaning more power.

However, my parents had different plans. They had enrolled me in a small
private school called University Laboratory School (UHS). It was a school of
mixed races and small graduating classes well under a hundred. I was excited
for the change but I was a bit lost and insecure to have been taken from my
newly conquered turf at Stevenson.

I remember my first day at UHS: new grounds, new faces, and a bit of insecurity
being so unfamiliar to the new surroundings. It was a small school, very quiet
and very homely. My new classmates were nice and the campus was very
clean. I was just getting comfortable at my new stomping grounds when I came
across something startling. On my first day as I was changing classes walking
pass the cafeteria, I noticed huge Samoan and Hawaiian guys sitting on the
benches outside. One of them stood out, his name was Saleva'a and he was
about 300 lbs.! Now these guys were nothing I had ever seen up close before.
They were scary looking and three times bigger than Billy from Stevenson. But
something was different. When I walked by I felt no intimidation. They just
kept on their business almost as if they didn't see me. No threats or stares. I was
confused.

As time passed I made friends and realized that these huge guys I always saw
hanging out at the cafeteria were football and basketball players for the school,
not thugs like I encountered in Stevenson. It was interesting that I felt no desire
to conquer or control my surrounding and I didn't know if it was because of the
positive vibe I got off these guys or the size of them. Little did I know, I was
being steered back on the right path.

Although I was back on the right track, I still felt the battle within me trying to
keep the 'Stevenson Enson' under control. An incident occurred on my first
week back that reminded me I still was the warrior who stood up for myself no
matter what.

It was a very rainy day and the roads in the school were flooding. It was a
challenge to stay dry moving from class to class. At lunch break, my two good
friends Ray and Kenny and I were headed to the cafeteria huddled together
under one umbrella trying to stay dry. Near the cafeteria there was a big puddle
where muddy rainwater was accumulating by a speed bump. Just as we were
passing the puddle, two older basketball players, Randy and Darin, whom
seemed to be playing in the rain, came running towards us, yelping and all
drenched. To my surprise they ran right through the puddle and kicked the
muddy water up at my friends and I, getting all three of us all wet. I couldn't
believe what they had just done. I stopped looked down at my soaked clothes
and said to Ray and Kenny, "That's fucked up! We can't let them get away with
this! Let's go fuck them up!"

I could see in Ray and Kenny's eye that they wanted nothing to do with what I
was feeling. I tried to convince them - telling them that there was three of us and
two of them so we could take them. They declined. This upset me and I knew
in my heart that something had to be done. I just couldn't let it go. So I turned
towards where the two basketball players ran and was off alone to try to put
these pranksters in their place. When I finally got to where they were I realized
that my 5'8" 175 lb. size was no match for two older students, especially when
one of them was a towering 6'1". The only problem was that my blood was
boiling too much to even care, so I approached them and angrily yelled,
"What?! You guys think that was funny?! You fucking punks!"

They seemed startled to see me standing in front of them alone calling them out.
Then the bigger guy Darin looked at me and said, "What, Japanese boy! You
want trouble?" Just then I realized that things were going to get ugly and I could
feel myself switching to "I don't give a fuck, let's go crazy” mode. I was a bit
disappointed to have trouble so soon but I was angry and I didn't care. I was
wondering how my first two on one would go and got ready for war.

People heard the commotion and a big crowd was beginning to gather. I didn't
care. All I saw were the two basketball players and everything else was a blur.
Then just as things were about to begin I heard a voice from the crowd, "Eh!
Beat it! Leave the Japanese boy alone!" I turned and was speechless to see the
big 300 lb. football player, Saleva'a, pushing his way through the crowd walking
towards us. When he got close he turned to the two basketball players and told
them to leave. Then he turned to me and said, "Eh, Japanese boy. If they bother
you again let me know,” and he walked off. I didn't know what to say but I was
really grateful for what he did. The fire in my heart was still there and was still
burning strong!

The fire in my heart I developed wasn't necessarily always a good thing. When
mixed with the strong loyalty I had for my friends it got me in tight spots
sometimes. Although my move to a private school lessened the trouble I was
getting into, and I was being guided onto a better path, I still found myself on the
wrong road at times. Street fights were a regular thing; I jumped at the chance to
back up friends against rival gangs. There was an incident that took place during
my high school days that gave me a wake up call that I wasn't as tough as I
thought I was.

I was on the baseball field warming up for a game when a friend's car pulled up
and I was informed there was going to be a gang fight with another gang from
the countryside. I was excited to back up my friend and didn't hesitate or give a
second thought to leaving the game and jumping in my friend’s car to help him
fight this rival gang. So I yelled to my teammate Ryan in the infield to grab my
bat and join me. We jumped over the outfield fence and into my friend’s car and
were on our way.

When we got to the meeting place I felt safe to see that we had about 20-30 guys
gathered. The rival gang hadn't arrived yet, so we talked and laughed and
clowned around. We waited for only about 10 minutes when four cars pulled up
across the street from where we were. When they got out it seemed like they had
about the same amount as us.

"This is going to be crazy", I thought. I was imagining how many guys I was
going to drop as I stood in the front of our group holding my baseball bat in my
hand. The two guys that had the dispute met in the middle as the rest of us
waited for one of them to jump in. We weren't going to intervene as long as it
was a fair one-on-one fight. They began arguing and I could see that things were
getting heated when the other guy began walking backwards towards the car he
arrived in. He then bent over, picked something up and as he came walking
from around the car, he began raising his right hand in which he held a gun. He
raised it in the air so everyone could see it and then pointed it at my friend who
he was arguing with.

I was really scared me because my friend wasn’t backing off. He raised his arms
in the air and shouted, "Shoot me! Go right ahead and shoot me!" The good
thing was that as my friend was saying this he was backing away and the tension
in the gunman seemed to simmer. When my friend backed off far away enough
where the gunman felt safe, he took the focus of the gun off my friend and began
pointing it in our direction. "Holy shit!!!" I thought, "He's going to shoot us!"
He ran the gun along the line of us standing across the street slowly as if to be
picking out who he was going to shoot.

As the gun passed me, I waited for him to shoot but he didn't. He continued
down the line until he got a bit passed the middle of us. When he was almost to
the end of the line, one of the guys freaked out and began to run. We were all
already on the edge and he sparked a panic and everyone began to scatter. It was
unexpected and I also began to run. I remember running imagining the bullet
hitting me from behind wondering how it was going to feel.

I dove behind a parked car as I noticed some of our guys running past me, some
scaling fences trying to distance themselves from the gunman in a panic. I was
ashamed of running but relieved no one got shot. After a few minutes things
quietened down. I peered from behind the car towards the gunman, and noticed
they were all getting in their cars beginning to leave.

I felt ashamed and wondered if what I did was the act of a coward. Everyone on
our side ran. Would it have been honorable to be the only one to remain
standing? I was uneasy as all kinds of thoughts ran through my head. It was all
over and as we returned to our baseball game I knew I needed a lot of work
building my spirit before I could consider myself a real man.

I graduated from UHS in 1985 and enrolled at the University of Hawaii. While
in high school I was a four-letter varsity athlete in baseball, basketball,
volleyball, and track. On the side I was also playing racquetball very seriously
at the local sports club. Out of all the sports, I played baseball and racquetball
were my passion. I remember having dreams as a youngster of becoming a
professional baseball player. So immediately after enrolling I walked down to
the athletic department to find out when the tryouts for the baseball team would
be.

Although I made the All-Star Team in the local newspaper, I wasn't scouted and
had to go to tryouts as a walk-on. In high school the positions I played were
pitcher and center field. However, because the level for college ball was so much
higher, I decided to tryout for just right field. Tryouts went well but
unfortunately I was cut on the final cuts. On final cut the coaches didn't tell us in
person. They told us that a paper with names would be posted on the bulletin
board and only the names on the list would be allowed to show up for practice.
The nervousness I felt as I was scanning the names as well as the heartbreak I
felt when I realized that I was cut from the team was tremendous. I was crushed
and contemplated trying out again the following year but later decided to hang
up my glove and go 100 percent in racquetball. Egan was already one of the
top-10 racquetball players in the world and I had plans to follow in his footsteps.



Chapter 3: New venture – Racquetball

I still remember my racquetball days and how it began. I was a precious 16
years old and my love was diving and surfing. There wasn't a single day that
passed that I wasn't in the ocean. Some days I would even wake up at 5 a.m.,
drive down to the surf spot and sit on the rocks waiting for sunrise. I wanted to
surf so bad I couldn't even wait for the sun to rise. There were even times when
I would paddle out in the dark and be freezing until the sun rose. Even on the
evening sessions we would use every second of sunlight and actually paddle in
in the dark. There was nothing that could compare to the sensation of riding a
wave.

There was an indescribable feeling of just you and your board, riding Mother
Nature’s swells from the depths far from land. The desire to ride the swells was
so strong I would venture out alone if none of my friends could go. With my
other love, diving, I would go alone even though that was one of the biggest ‘no-
nos’ of water sports. I would tell my parents I was going diving with someone
although I was going alone.

Many nights when everyone was out on the town I was in another world
underwater. When your head was above the surface you could hear the cars
honking, people laughing, or the wind blowing. But the moment you submerged
your head below the surface, you couldn't hear anything but your own
breathing. There was peace and calm, really like another world. I was so
content with my two passions surfing and diving.

When my parents invited Egan and I one day to join them at a sports club, the
Oahu Athletic Club, I was reluctant to go. It was an adult fitness club where my
parents would go to play racquetball. Every Sunday there was family day when
the members could bring their children to enjoy the clubs facilities. I remember
the first time I went with them. The surf was flat and I had no plans for the
afternoon so I figured why not. When we got there it was a beautiful club.
There was cool air conditioning, a nice aroma and soft carpet. I felt like this
wasn't going to be so bad. We got into our workout clothes and my parents took
us to the back where the racquetball courts were.

My first impression before actually playing racquetball was this is easy, until we
started playing. Egan and I were running all over the court chasing the ball until
it suddenly took a weird bounce, changed directions and went in a totally
different direction. Even though the racquets face was big I was actually
missing the whole ball and was huffing and puffing as my mother ran me all
over easily beating me without a challenge. All I could think about was how
much better surfing or diving was and I really didn't care if I ever did this
racquetball shit again. Damn, I thought, even a day of flat surf was better than
this. I had a horrible time and I vowed never to come back again. Egan was
different. He couldn't stand that he couldn't beat Mom and a fire was lit.

My parents invited us every Sunday to join them and, although Egan would go, I
was always busy surfing, diving, or just sitting around the house. Then, months
later, Egan entered his first racquetball tournament and I went to cheer him on.
To my surprise he wasn't running like I remember on our first day, like a chicken
without a head. He anticipated where the ball would bounce and he didn't whiff
any balls. Wow, I knew now that even Egan would beat me and this racquetball
thing was not for me.

As the months passed Egan was practicing consistently everyday and eventually
began winning tournaments until he was in the top division. Egan brought home
trophies and medals and that's when I began to get interested in racquetball. I
decided to give it another try.



Chapter 4: Egan my Role Model

With Egan's help as a role model I also began to win tournaments and that's
when a new love was born. However, I never could discipline myself like Egan.
The hours he spent in the court, the early morning training, and the hours of
cross training he would do was incredible and it paid off. He also never smoked
or drank and was at the racquetball courts instead of going out partying. I
admired Egan, so I also never smoked or drank but just couldn't find it in me to
be so disciplined in the training. It paid off for Egan because in only a couple of
years he was already the Hawaii State champ and had racquet, clothing and even
shoe sponsors. He then began entering some of the professional tour events and
fared well enough to begin to follow the Pro Tour full time.

I on the other hand was getting better and even won some Hawaii State titles but
not near as dominant as Egan was. Egan gave me racquets and, because we
were practically the same size, he got me shoes and clothes, too. I even began
following the Pro Tour trying to follow in my older brothers footsteps. My
parents were paying my airline tickets and I was jumping in Egan's hotel, which
his sponsors paid. Egan eventually became a World Champion and even at one
time was ranked the #1 racquetball player in the world. I, on the other hand, was
struggling and wasn't playing at near the level Egan was. My highest world rank
was #28, which was not so good in the racquetball world.

Because racquetball was such a fast sport, television wasn't interested it and the
sport began hurting. Egan was the hardest hitter on the Pro Tour, and was
actually clocked once at 191 mph. Even the average player hit the ball about at
140 mph, just too fast for the television cameras to catch. The number of Pro
events was dwindling and I just couldn't seem to break into the to top 24.
Breaking into the top 24 was essential because only the top 24 players would
receive a spot in the main draw, while all the other touring pros and the local
players would have to play off for 8 spots. I would have to sometimes play three
matches the day before the main draw just to qualify. Then the qualifiers would
be thrown into the main draw getting matched up with one of the top 16 players.
I wasn't consistently qualifying so my rank never got higher than #28.



Chapter 5: Houston Texas
National Amateur Racquetball Championships – Riot

Every year Egan and I entered one of the biggest amateur racquetball
tournaments in the United States, the U.S. Nationals. It was the qualifying
tournament that decided the team that would represent the United States in the
World Games. Egan had just won his way into the best eight and I was in the
middle of a match in the round of 16's against James Lorello. The match was
close, with me taking the first set and James winning the second set, putting us
in a tiebreaker. During the tiebreaker, James' supporter got louder and louder
and even started to heckle me. They were cheering whenever I made a mistake
and made comments like "lucky" and "dog-shit" whenever I made a good shot.
Egan was up there in the gallery amongst all those assholes. I was down in the
court trying my best to ignore them because I knew that one of their objectives
was to upset me and take me out of my game. Then at 8-8 in the tiebreaker to
11, I appealed a shot James hit and one of the hecklers yelled, "What a crock of
shit! It was a perfect shot!" That's when I think Egan had enough of these guys
shit because I saw him have a word with this asshole. He got pushed then all
hell broke loose.

It was a 20 feet high to climb to get to the gallery where Egan was. I knew Egan
was alone and I had to get up there. However, before I began to make my way
to the gallery, I looked at James and thought of attacking him first but decided I
had to reach Egan as soon as possible. So I dropped my racquet and went on a
full sprint up to the gallery to join Egan. When I finally got up to the gallery
there was such a huge mob of people that I couldn't get through to Egan. So I
climbed up to the top of the bleachers, and scoped out where Egan was. I
noticed one guy who was the main aggressor. I hurried out to the edge of the top
bleacher, zeroed in on Egan's aggressor, and like a superhero, I jumped smack
dab right on top of my target. I landed with my arms wrapped around his face so
I squeezed his face and began pulling him away from Egan.

There was so much ruckus, so many people but I was just focused on this one
guy. Then suddenly I felt some huge arms wrap around me and then I was
literally lifted off my feet. I was struggling, kicking, and punching but I never
got free. I knew that whoever was holding me was definitely a tough dude and
was taking some licks. They finally dragged me out of the gallery and I had
three guys pinning me down on the ground. I was determined to get out but I
couldn't move. As things began to calm down I noticed the guy who carried me
out of the arena was an ex NFL football player, about 6 feet 4 inches tall, and
huge! They separated us from James’s supporters and brought us to a back
room. I remember saying, "I'm going to kill you!" to Egan's attacker and the big
ex NFL football player kindly told me, "Be careful. Don't say that. You could
get in big trouble just for saying something like that." I took his advice and shut
up, waiting for a chance to break away and get back James’s group. Then the
Commissioner, Jim Hiser walked into the room and wanted to know our side of
the story so he could try to come to a solution to the problem. We were then
escorted back to our room and were told to wait for a call from the
Commissioner of racquetball.

An hour later the Commissioner called and said that he wanted James and I to
finish the match in a back court, that he would referee with no spectators, just
me and James. Egan then called his manager, Dr. Lorenze and told him the
situation. Dr. Lorenze told Egan, fuck the commission and go back home to
Hawaii on the next flight out... and we did just that. Egan was the defending
World Champion and the favorite to win the Nationals so him leaving was a big
blow to the commission and the racquetball community. However to my
surprise, although we left on our own, in the next National Racquetball
magazine, the gutless commission claimed that they sent us home. It is sad to
have so many spineless people in this world.



Chapter 6: First Big Move Away From Home

By 1987 I was determined to make more sacrifices to improve my game. I
decided to move away from Hawaii to the U.S. mainland so I could be closer to
the Pro Tour and stop being a burden to my parents. I chose Texas because its
central location allowed me to be close to any pro tournaments in the mainland
U.S. Texas also had many top pro players and many small satellite tournaments
that I could play to get more court time to improve my game. I also had met a
Club Pro by the name of Gene White who gave me an open invitation to come
stay with him in Dallas.

I had it all planned out without anyone's knowledge. After my first year at the
University of Hawaii, I decided not to register for the following year and
planned my move to Texas. I quietly sold all my belongings trying to save up
money for the move. I also worked part time at a surf shop and delivered
newspapers in the morning.

In the summer of that year Egan and I participated in a big amateur tournament
in Houston. After the tournament was over I remember keeping quiet until the
last moment when Egan and I were leaving the hotel about to jump into a taxi
heading to the airport to catch our plane. As the taxi pulled up and we were
about to get in, I looked over to Egan and said, "I'm going to stay. I'm going to
catch a bus to Dallas and look up Gene. Tell Mom that I stayed." Without
hesitation Egan said okay, jumped into the taxi and was gone.

Watching the taxi pull farther and farther away I began to realize what I had just
got myself into. I was now on my own. No Egan to take care of me, or watch
over me. I felt lost and alone. As I wondered if I made a wrong move I began to
walk to the Greyhound bus station lugging all of my luggage with me. I bought
my bus ticket to Dallas, found a window seat and, as I saw all the foreign
landscape of Texas pass before me, I couldn't help but wonder if I had made the
wrong move.

The bus arrived at the Dallas Greyhound Bus Station. I got off and walked to the
taxi stand. All I had was the business card of the sports club where Gene
worked at so I jumped in a taxi and showed him the card. Just then it dawned on
me that I never informed Gene of my arrival. I was confident he would be at
work.

The taxi pulled up in front of this beautiful sports club. I got out and walked
over to the front desk lugging my luggage and asked for Gene. The girl at the
front promptly answered, "Gene? Oh it's his day off today." Oh shit!, I thought,
what am I going to do. I asked her to call him but there was no answer. He
wasn't home. Now the feeling of being lost and alone was at it's peak and I
literally felt like crying. I wanted to go home and I wished I could rewind the
hands of time so I could jump in the taxi with Egan.

I didn't know what to do so I just sat in front of the front desk pondering what I
should do when I heard a familiar voice say, "Howdy Enson, what are you doing
here?" I looked up and it was Gene. I was a lucky man. He had come to
practice racquetball on his day off. Although he didn't expect me, he welcomed
me into his home, and I stayed with Gene for a couple of weeks until I found a
job and eventually my own apartment.

I found an apartment at a complex near the Dallas airport called Oaks at
Centerport, which ironically had a racquetball court. I pulled in side cash
teaching private lessons and was doing okay until I made the big mistake of
buying a car. I found it parked in a parking lot with a "For Sale" sign on it. It
was priced at $500, which was almost all I had. I really needed a car so I made
the purchase only to have it break down a week later. I was out of money and
now I didn’t have a car.

I went job searching and got lucky. A sports club called Racquetball Resorts,
where I taught racquetball and restrung and re-gripped racquets, hired me. The
pay was good and I was allowed to take off work to go to the Pro events – it was
the perfect set up. The only problem was I had to wait a month before the first
paycheck and I was out of cash. I refused to ask my parents for money so I was
down to eating one baloney sandwich a day. I eventually ended up losing about
15 pounds but was alive and kicking when my first paycheck came in.

The paychecks were steady and a good flow of income was coming in from the
lessons, re-gripping, and re-stringing. Everything was going smooth and I found
a nice apartment to stay in that was only 10 minutes away from Racquetball
Resort. I was shopping for household goods and filling up my apartment. This
is when I finally realized how much my mother did for me. The laundry,
cleaning, groceries, cooking, etc. was really a chore to do.

Sometimes I would come home from training too tired to cook dinner. I
eventually got two roommates, Guy Humphrey from Kansas City and Carl
Otsuka from Hawaii. Guy was a racquetball buddy and we trained together and
traveled to tournaments. Carl was a high school classmate who wanted to try his
hand at living away from home.

A year passed and everything was going well. Then one day I was informed by
the manager that there was going to be an ownership change and he wasn't sure
how it was going to affect me. A week later I was called in by the new
management and told that I wasn't going to be able to travel to all the Pro events
and the ones I went to I would have to take a pay cut for the days I was away.
This defeated the whole purpose of my move so I decided to move back to
Hawaii.

The move was sad. I had to sell everything I had and say goodbye to all my new
friends in Texas. The members at the club didn’t want me to leave so they
started a petition to keep me but I had my mind made up that I was leaving. I
thanked them but was looking forward to moving back home. The racquet
stringer I bought to string racquets was too big to bring back to Hawaii so I put it
up for sale. One of the fellow pro racquetball players, Dave Watson, originally
from Oklahoma, wanted to purchase it. However, to my disappointment, Dave
didn’t have the cash so I told him he can transfer the money to me later and that
was the last I heard of him. Dave, if you’re out there, pay up!

It was nice to be home but traveling from Hawaii was too costly and I was
wondering if this was all worth it. I wasn't excelling like Egan and I wasn't
getting sponsored by any big company. I remember the last tournament of the
last season I was on the pro tour. It was the National Tournament; the biggest of
the year and worth double the points to your ranking. I qualified and was
matched up to the #12 ranked player in the world, Dan Obremski. Dan was a
good-looking GQ-type and was in top shape but I knew I had the tools to upset
him which would allow me to break into the top 24 and guarantee me a spot in
the main draw without having to qualify. I was pumped because this was my
chance. The format was you had to win 3 out of 5 games to 11 and I was on fire
beating Dan the first 2 games. I lost the 3rd but found myself up 10-8 serving
for the match in the 4th game. One more point and I would have won which
would mean finally breaking into the top 24. I served, and we had a great rally
until he misplaced a shot and I had a perfect set up in mid court. This was a shot
that pro players would bury 100 times out of a hundred and my heart began to
race knowing the game was over and I was going to be finally ranked in the top
24. It felt like slow motion as the ball dropped right in front of me in the perfect
spot to hit a winner and end the game. I raised my racquet up over my head
preparing for the shot, shuffled my feet in the perfect spot to take my shot,
stepped into the ball took a full, smooth stroke and like a gun shot ringing
through the air my racquet met the ball. My heart dropped. How could this have
happened? I hit the shot into the ground losing me the rally and eventually the
match. I missed the perfect shot, lost the match, and never broke into the top 24.

The following year the Pro Tour cut the amount of tournaments in half and I had
a big decision to make on whether to continue playing racquetball or to go back
to school. I gave it a shot for a full two years and my parents were spending a
lot of money flying me to tournaments without me showing good results. I had
to be real here and decided to go back to school and say goodbye to the
racquetball Pro Tour. I was broken. That one shot ended my racquetball career
and to this day I can still see that perfect shot so vividly as if it were right in
front of me waiting for me to hit a winner, to win the most important match in
my racquetball career. I was haunted by that missed shot for almost a decade
until God showed me why I missed that shot and why it was one of the best
things that ever happened in my life.

I enrolled back at the University of Hawaii and felt I was ready to get back into
the studying. However, I felt like there was something missing. After
racquetball I had a lot of pent-up energy and I felt that martial arts would be a
great way to vent it. Although my negative experience with Karate put a bad
taste in my mouth for martial arts, I still felt the need to train. Being a smaller
Japanese in Hawaii you had to fight for survival and street brawls were a
common thing so I always wanted to be prepared. After Karate I tried many
martial arts. There was Hapkido/Tae Kwon Do, awesome aggressive arts but
I’m as flexible as a 2 X 4 so my progress in Tae Kwon Do was limited and my
stiffness limited me being able to execute 90 percent of the techniques.

I trained a variety of martial arts to defend myself on the streets and I narrowed
it down to the two I felt would cover me on the streets: Muay Thai for when you
don't have direct contact with your aggressor and Wing Chun for when you
make contact with him. I love Wing Chun, especially the sticky hands technique
even though I was never really that good. As I did Wing Chun I also did Muay
Thai. I loved the solid basics of Muay Thai so much. It had me kicking my
banana tree in my yard which made my mother think I was losing my mind.
Although I really took an interest in Wing Chun and Muay Thai, something was
missing. I still didn't feel completely ready, and I was still searching.

When I enrolled in The University of Hawaii, I noticed that they had a variety of
martial arts offered as non-credit courses. As I scanned down the list of non-
credit courses Aikido caught my eye. I remember seeing an old Aikido master
defend himself from 12 attackers and I wanted to see what that was about so I
signed up for Aikido class.

It was slow and hard to execute. The idea was to harmonize with your
opponent’s energy. The problem was every opponent exerted a different energy
and every fight would require you to feel your opponent’s energy and harmonize
with it before flowing with it and eventually redirect it.

Even if you fought the same opponent numerous times, he would exert a
different level of energy on every encounter. So I confronted my teacher and
asked him how would I be able to use this on the street with this theory and he
answered, "It will take many years to be able to execute Aikido, sometimes 50-
60 years." What? I was still immature and young and I felt like I needed
something NOW! 50-60 years from now I would hopefully not be getting into
street fights. I felt that I needed something that I could use tomorrow... if there
was such an Art. I completed the three-month course and stopped going to class
wanting something more practical.

I felt there were still holes in my armor. I didn't know what they were and I was
uneasy. Then one day as I was walking to class at the University of Hawaii, and
there was a skinny Brazilian guy (Romolo) passing out flyers for this grappling
art from Brazil called Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. I had to hurry to class so I set up a
meeting with Romolo the next day. We met in the cafeteria and Romolo showed
me the Gracie Jiu-Jitsu in Action video. I watched the video and was impressed
at what I saw. The Gracie Jiu-Jitsu practitioners were destroying everyone from
Karate, wrestling, to street fighting with ease.

Then what really left an impression on me was the last fight on the video where
Rickson Gracie fought a street brawler named Zulu. At the time in Hawaii it
was believed that the bigger guy was usually stronger and Zulu out weighted
Rickson by over 50 pounds. As I watched the video the defense Rickson had
from the bottom impressed me. Then, to my amazement, the smaller Rickson
Gracie slipped to Zulus back wrapped his arms around his neck and choked Zulu
out into submission.

I was sold! That little Brazilian guy just choked out a huge black street fighter
and in my heart I knew I had to learn Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. Romolo told me that it
was one of the non-credit courses at the university so the following day I went
straight down and signed up. I was excited! This was it!!! Combining the kicks
and elbow strikes of Muay Thai, the close fighting in Wing Chun, and the
ground fighting of Jiu-Jitsu would be ideal. I would be the complete fighter
therefore able to defend myself on the streets on any aspect of hand-to-hand
combat. I couldn't wait to begin.

My first day at Jiu-Jitsu class was a disappointment. There was an aura when I
stepped into the class with Relson Gracie standing at the front of the class
speaking to us in his broken English just like the movies. He made us do some
stretching exercises then told us to partner up. "Yeah!” I thought now we are
going to learn how to fight!!! I expected to get down and dirty like the video I
saw and was surprised when I saw a girl partner up with a guy. We then did
some weird stuff like, if someone grabs you here you grab his wrist then step
here and do this and subdue him. To be honest I was disappointed. I wanted to
learn what I saw on the video, 80 kg Rickson Gracie submitting the 120 kg huge
barbarian, Zulu. Move after move and nothing changed. A full 90 minutes of
self-defense techniques that I didn't feel were realistic in a real street fight. I
knew that it was only the first class but I couldn't wait.

After Relson closed up the class, I waited for most of the students to trickle out
and approached Relson. He was chatting with Romolo and a small black belt
named Romero who only weighed bout 70 kilos. Relson put out his hand and
friendlily said in his broken English, "Thank you for coming my friend."

I shook his hand but then said, "I want to spar. I want to see how good your
Gracie Jiu-Jitsu is." He looked surprised at first but suddenly turned to the little
Brazilian guy Romero and signaled him to spar with me. Of course this was still
a friendly confrontation so no strikes were going to be thrown and we were just
going to wrestle. Not only was Romero small he was skinny with little or no
muscle. I looked over at this little Brazilian guy walking towards me and
thought, "I don't care how good his technique is my power will control and
dominate no matter what." It was beyond my comprehension that a small guy
like Romero would be able to do anything to me.

So we took to the mat and before I could get ready he shot in and took me to the
ground. I wasn't worried and so I just turned around and began to stand up.
Romero was so small that I felt no resistance but as I got up he jumped on my
back. I tried to get him off but he was stuck to me like a turtle's shell. Before I
could realize I was in trouble, I felt his arm wrap around my neck like a vice.
The squeeze came so fast I couldn't breathe nor scream and I knew it was
helpless so I tapped. I don't think that first session went past a minute so I asked
him to give me another chance.

Again he took me down and again I turned my back and again I was forced to
tap out from another rear naked choke. I was frustrated! He got lucky again???
What's going on??? I turned to Romero and signaled I wanted another try and he
casually said okay. It was like a walk in the park for him and I felt like a child
being subdued by an adult even though I was the much bigger guy. Then when I
was again easily subdued for the third time the frustration turned to a mixture of
disbelief and amazement. I wasn't angry – I was in awe.

I then turned to Relson and begged him, "Teach me this please! I need to learn
this!" He laughed as he said, "In time my friend, in time." I was sold! From
that day on I was 24 hours Gracie Jiu-Jitsu!

As the days passed and I trained GJJ everyday, I couldn't believe that such an
amazing art was still undiscovered. Relson had classes on every weekday at the
UH studio and a class in the evenings on Tuesday and Thursdays in the garage at
his house. I attended all of the classes and got the top belts together on
Saturdays so we could train together on our own. I couldn't get enough! I even
helped promote GJJ by setting up booths on campus so students could see this
amazing art. I also set up seminars at schools, dormitories, and at events in
Hawaii and, because Relson's English was hard to understand, I was the
spokesman at all the seminars.

Whenever my mother didn't know where I was she would just call Relson's
house and find me. I lived, breathed, and ate GJJ.



Chapter 8: Street Fight in Seattle

Three months after my first GJJ class there was a street fight I got into that
proved the effectiveness of GJJ. This incident happened when Egan and I went
down to downtown Seattle to play in a Professional Racquetball Tournament.
Up until the trip to Seattle I'd only been training Gracie Jiu-Jitsu for three
months although it wasn't a normal person's three months. I trained everyday of
the week and twice a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays. After the racquetball
tournament was over Egan and I stayed an extra three days to check out the town
with Guy Humphrey.

Then one night before we went out to hit the town I was wrestling with Egan and
Guy and showing them some Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. When Guy and I lived in Texas
we had created a bond and he is like a brother to me. Guy was a very good
racquetball player and although he was only about 140 pounds he hit the ball a
ton. He also had the pride of a lion and didn't take shit from nobody, which
sometimes got him into trouble. They both knew nothing about Jiu-Jitsu, so I
was a bit cocky when I was twisting them up and telling them that if you know
Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, size didn't matter. From mount to arm bar to guillotine to
slipper choke, I was having my way with them. Then when all the horseplay
was done we all decided to jump in Guy's rent-a-car and go out looking for some
chicks.

We were driving around downtown Seattle when a carload of girls pulled up on
our left as we were stopped in a three-lane street. We asked them where they
were going. They said they were going to a club and if we wanted to go we
should follow them. However, when the light turned green they hung a left and,
although we were in the middle lane, Guy hung a left turn, too. Then we heard a
screech of skidding tires and "bang" another car crashed smack right into the
side of us.

As we got out of the car to check the damage, we were met by a big muscle-
bound enraged black guy. He was huge, pissed off, and coming towards us.
You could see his trap muscles bulging through his t-shirt and his eyes were
round and beady like he was high on drugs. He got out of his car, noticed that
Guy was the driver and walked straight up to him and got right in Guy's face.
This guy was about 240 pounds and he was screaming at 140 pound Guy, "What
is the matter with you?! You fuckin' idiot!!! I'm going to kill you now!"

We had checked the traffic signs and sure enough from the left lane you could
turn left or go straight and from the middle lane, the lane we were in, you could
only go straight. So we were 100 percent wrong and that explained why this
black guy was so infuriated. He looked as if he were about to strangle Guy so I
felt I had to do something.

Now I was in the middle of a rock and a hard place. After bragging about how
good Gracie Jiu-Jitsu was, if I didn't help I would really look like someone who
talks the talk but can't walk the walk. Egan was about 50 meters away on a pay
phone calling the police when I walked over to the black guy and said, "Hey,
why don't you calm down and wait for the police to arrive." Then as if all his
anger shifted over to me, he turned to me and began screaming, "Calm down?!
Calm down?! Who the fuck are you? Now I'm going to kill you,
motherfucker!"

"Oh shit!", I thought. What have I done? Now this guy, built like a bear, wants
to kill me!!! He then began to poke his fingers in my chest as he continued
screaming obscenities to me getting closer and closer to my face. I backed off
and said in a bit nicer tone, "Hey, we don't want any trouble. Let's wait for the
cops to come." It seemed like he didn't hear me because he walked up to me
again and continued screaming in my face. I could feel the spit hitting my face
as he was screaming so I stepped back once more. Now that was twice I have
stepped back and it seems like he was getting madder and madder and more
aggressive at the signs of my fear. So I told myself that if he steps up to me a
third time I'm going to need to take the initiative. Then, as much as I prayed he
didn't come forward again, he did. So I just reacted, grabbed his head, put him
in a headlock, and judo flipped him to the ground. I don't remember how but I
ended up in the mount and instinctively hit him with a flurry of three or four
punches.

Instead of the punches hurting him they seemed to make him angrier. He
reached up, grabbed my shirt and tried to throw me off. I wasn't good enough in
Jiu-Jitsu to instinctively fall into an arm bar so I resisted to keep the mount and
could hear my t-shirt ripping. My t-shirt ripped completely, he continued his
turn, turned his back to me, and so I instinctively put in my hooks and sunk in a
rear naked choke. He jumped back and was kicking and bucking like a fish out
of water. He was also clawing and scratching at my face so I just tucked my
head in close against his head and squeezed the choke hard. He was going so
crazy that, although he landed on the sidewalk when I flipped him, we were now
in the middle of the street.

Up until now I never choked anyone unconscious before so I began to wonder if
this sleeper choke actually works. Then like God was answering my question,
he grabbed my arm and began to twitch. The twitching indicated that he was
unconscious and just as I was about to release the choke Egan arrived and was
hysterically shouting, "Choke him! Hold him! Kill him! Kill him!" Egan's
excitement got me all crazy so instead of releasing the choke I squeezed it again
hard. Then after what felt like eternity and I was sure he was out cold, I let go
the choke and kicked his limp body off of me. He was heavy and after I kicked
him off he ended up face down and was not moving. In fear of him waking up
and attacking us again we ran to our car, jumped in and sped off. As we were
taking the turn I looked back through the rear window and noticed he was still
face down and not moving. Our hearts were pounding and we didn't know what
to do.

I don't know what happened to that irate guy, but for me it was a confirmation
that Gracie Jiu-Jitsu really works. Egan was so impressed that the next day, after
we got back from Hawaii, he began training Gracie Jiu-Jitsu too. Guy thanked
me for saving his life and I thanked Relson Gracie for teaching me so well. To
my surprise, when I shared my experience with Relson and my other training
partners, Relson gave me a degree on my blue belt. I was stoked.

Sitting back and reflecting on that memorable day in Seattle I'm so glad that I
trained so persistently in Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. For if I didn't, only the Good Lord
knows what would have happened to us on that night out in downtown Seattle.



Chapter 9: Japan – The Beginning of My Life

Because I was now back in school and in love with GJJ I rarely played
racquetball. However, because Egan was still on the pro tour when he was
invited to come to the All Japan Racquetball tournament for the second time, he
had to decline since his schedule on the pro tour clashed with the tournament
dates. He had won the year before and they really wanted him back so they were
very disappointed. Then, to my surprise, they went to their next best option,
Egan's younger brother: me.

Egan asked me if I would like to go play in a racquetball tournament in Japan
and I was hesitant. I didn't want to miss even a single day of GJJ. However the
chance to see the country of my roots, on a fully paid trip, was worth missing a
couple of days of GJJ. It was scheduled to be a one-week trip and I had one
month to train for it.

I had heard that the level of Japanese racquetball wasn't so good so I expected to
win the tournament with just one month of training. To my surprise, the level
was better than I expected and I lost in the finals and took second. I was
bummed to lose but happy to be able to get back to Hawaii and my GJJ classes.
But then a month later I got a call again from the same Japanese club owner, Mr.
Kaneko, who had flown me in for the last tournament asking me if I wanted to
come up again to play in another All Japan tournament, The Bashamichi
Classic. I wanted so bad to redeem myself I jumped at the chance, even though I
knew I was going to be missing more GJJ classes.

The weird thing was that when I told Relson I was going to Japan to play in
another racquetball tournament he had a weird insecure reaction. He practically
begged me not to go. He said, "I know, if you go, you not coming back!" I
thought that was crazy. I couldn't imagine not returning to Hawaii. Not only did
I live for GJJ, I loved Hawaii! The weather, my family, my friends, and the
beach! There wasn't a day that passed that I wouldn't jump into the ocean. I was
an island boy in and out and I could never leave the islands... or so I thought.
My objective on my second trip to Japan was to redeem myself. I was to
properly train and to take home the Bashamichi Cup. There were all the players
who entered in the last tournament that I placed second, including the Japanese
player who beat me, Junichi Yoshida. This time I had more time to prepare and
this time I was not taking it easy.

I had a good three months to prepare and I was ready to take it all. The
tournament went well and I made it to the finals. It wasn't a cakewalk, though.
In fact, I struggled. I barely made it to the finals, squeaking by Junichi in the
semi-finals. In the finals I played the number three-ranked Japanese player and
won in straight sets. I had redeemed myself. I was happy and ready to get back
to Hawaii and my GJJ classes. Then a couple of days before I was supposed to
return to Hawaii, Mr. Kaneko asked me if I could extend my trip for a month and
tour Japan doing racquetball seminars.

I really wanted to get back home, but I figured that this is my chance to see
Japan and I really didn't know when I was actually going to have this chance
again so I agreed. Mr. Kaneko put me up in a hotel and gave me spending
money for food and entertainment. I missed Hawaii and GJJ but I was
overwhelmed with this new country. I traveled all over Japan doing seminars
and about a week before I was supposed to go back to Hawaii, I had an idea. If I
stayed in Japan and learned the language, when I go back to Hawaii, being able
to speak the Japanese language would open up a lot of doors for jobs, because
Hawaii had a lot of Japanese visitors every year.

So I decided that I was going to stay as long as I could until my money ran out.
When I expressed my desire to stay in Japan, a member of the racquetball sports
club that I was training at, Mr. Komiya, offered to let me stay at his parent’s
house. I was grateful, because I couldn't afford to stay in the hotel, so I packed
my bags and took him up on his offer.

Another problem I faced was my girlfriend of four years was waiting for me in
Hawaii and the longer I stayed in Japan the more distance I felt between us. Our
plan was to be in Japan together but instead of going together and both
struggling with a visa, we decided that she would come later after I got set up.
So I made the call, we discussed the situation and we both decided that it was to
our best interest to end the relationship. Amazingly I took the separation in
stride. I wasn’t hit with sadness but instead was a bit relieved to be able to just
concentrate on what was happening in Japan.

After staying at Mr. Komiya's parents house for two weeks he then told me there
was an apartment nearby that was empty and I could stay for free. There was no
furniture but it had running water and electricity. I accepted and made another
move.

The move into the apartment was not what I expected. It was nice to have my
own place but the loneliness hit me. I slept on the ground with no furniture and I
didn't even have an icebox. I bought little speakers to plug into my Walkman so
I had music and I began doing jigsaw puzzles, something I had no interest in
prior. Money was running out, so I began selling my own racquets. I had five
and sold them one by one for $300 each until I only had two left. Then Mr.
Kaneko asked me if I could do one more seminar up in North Japan for a small
pay and because I was running out of money, I jumped at the chance.

This seminar was in a small city called Koriyama and when the club members
gathered for the seminar I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. It was Eric
Texidor. Eric was a notorious hot head baseball coach for one of the top high
schools in Hawaii. He had a scary reputation of beating up his own players
when they made errors and attacking umpires when they made bad calls, so I
was hesitant to talk to him.

However, as soon as he saw me, with a big grin on his face, he said, "Hey
Enson! How you been?" as he walked towards me with his hand stretched out
towards me to shake my hand. I was partially in shock that Eric Texidor was so
friendly but I didn't show it and shook his hand firmly. He then pulled me
towards him and gave me a big hug and that's the first time I felt the warmness
in this feared man. He had a beautiful wife, Toyoko, who owned an English
School and she also greeted me with a warm hug. We chatted for a moment and
before the seminar started they invited me out for dinner after the seminar was
done. I accepted and felt almost like a part of Hawaii was here with me.

At dinner we talked about the past and Eric told me interesting stories about his
move to Japan. I then casually mentioned that I wanted to try to stay in Japan
for at least a year so and I was looking for a job. Instantaneously Eric looked at
his wife and said, "He can work for us at our English School yeah, Toyo?"
Toyoko seemed to be taken by surprise and came straight out with some
questions. Her friendly demeanor instantly changed as she asked me in her cute
broken English, "Do you have any experience teaching English?" I didn't and
the look on her face told me that she wasn't interested. Then Eric blurts out,
"Come on Toyo, he can follow me to classes until he gets the hang of it then
maybe begin with some kids classes." Toyo still seemed dissatisfied, but to my
surprise she agreed to give me a shot. Eric and Toyoko also agreed to take me in
and let me share a room in their apartment with their son Mikio. I was happy
and very grateful.



Chapter 10: Scared and confused – Renewing my Visa

By this time my three-month tourist visa was running out so I had to apply for an
extension. The problem with that was I had to leave the country in order to
extend the visa. The cheapest place was Korea and luckily it was also the
cheapest flight. I didn't have the money so Eric loaned me the money for the
plane ticket and a good friend I made at the racquetball club, Mr. Mashiko, slid
me some cash so I could get a room and eat during my short three day trip to
Korea. I got my ticket and jumped on the plane without making any hotel
reservations. Mr. Mashiko told me to just jump in a taxi and tell them to take
you to Itaewon where there was a lot of shopping, restaurants, and hotels. I
thought, "piece of cake" so I packed a small bag and off I was to Korea.

It was nice that the flight was only three hours, but my problems began as soon
as I tried to leave the airport. I got in a taxi and the driver spoke no English. I
told him to take me to I-tae-won and he gave me a frustrated look like "What?!"I
repeated “Itaewon” over and over to no avail. I decided to change taxis and the
same problem occurred until the fourth taxi who knew what I was saying. I was
relieved and was on my way.

The drive to Itaewon was about 35 minutes from the airport and I was shocked
that halfway there my taxi driver was pulling over to other possible customers
until one of them actually got in. "WTF?!" I thought to myself. Why is my taxi
picking up other customers when he hasn't even dropped me off yet? I couldn't
believe what was going on as the new passenger took a seat in the front like it
was a normal thing. Well, it was a normal thing I found out later.

I finally reached Itaewon and I knew that I still didn't have a place to stay so I
had the taxi driver take me to The Hamilton Hotel where Mashiko suggested.
When I got there and tried to check in I was surprised at the prices of the hotels
and decided to take a stroll around the town to see if there was a cheaper room.
The Hamilton Hotel was about $100 a night and I am a simple person and didn't
need a plush place to stay. As long as I have a bed and a roof over my head I
was fine. I wandered the back streets and found a place for $25 a night and
decided to stay there. It was busted up and dirty and the bed was hard like
wood, but it was enough. I put all of my luggage in the dark room and decided
to check out the town a bit more.

It was getting dark and the bars were opening and I suddenly found myself in the
red light district. I was surprised that most of the girls outside the little bars
spoke English and one in particular that I walked by seemed safe so I decided to
go in and have a drink. However, I've had experience before in Hawaii with the
Korean hostesses trying to make you spend money buying drinks, so I made sure
the girl understood that I was only buying one drink for myself before I decided
to go in. I walked in the bar and the lights were down low. It had a gloomy
atmosphere and I instantly began feeling uncomfortable when I realized that I
was the only customer in the bar. Then it made me feel more uneasy when three
girls came and sat with me at my little table.

They asked me what I wanted to drink, I ordered a Coke and, although I thought
they understood that I was only buying only one drink, as soon as my Coke
arrived they began asking me to buy them drinks too. I told the girl that I spoke
to before coming in, she said something in Korean that I didn't understand, but
by the expression on her face I could tell she was pissed. I downed my Coke just
so I could get out of there when suddenly a scary looking Korean guy came out
from the back and he began screaming to me in Korean while pointing at my
drink. I was scared so just to simmer down the tension of the situation, I agreed
to buy the girls a drink. The mood was different and one of the girls told me,
"Too late!"

Those two words made my heart start to race, I began looking at the door, and
wondered how I would get out safely. The door was close by but the problem
was getting out of the table I was sitting at because I was blocked in, sitting in
the seat furthest in. I had a plan to go to the bathroom and make a break from
there, so I asked them if I could go to the restroom. They seemed okay with it as
they scooted out of the booth we were in to let me out. As soon as I got out of
the booth, thoughts of making a break for the door whirled through my head, but
for some reason I couldn't get myself to make a break. So I decided to go to the
restroom and figure out a way to get out. However, when I got to the urinal to
take a half ass pee I was caught off guard when the guy walked in, too.

I finished peeing and really got scared when the guy got right behind me as I
washed my hands. I imagined him jumping me from the back, or even stabbing
me in the back with a knife. Fear began taking over my body as the images of
me getting attacked by this guy changed to me hurting this guy before he hurt
me. Seconds felt like minutes as I washed my hands trying to think of what to
do.

Suddenly I reacted. I turned around, grabbed the guy by the neck and slammed
his face in the mirror. There was a big crack when his face shattered the mirror
and I noticed blood beginning to trickle from his face as he slumped to the
ground.

This was my chance! I thought as I darted out of the restroom and headed for the
door. I guess all the girls in the bar heard the commotion, as all three of them
were ready, and formed a barricade in front of the door as I was headed their
way in full sprint! As I got closer I realized that these girls weren't going to
move but I was at "life and death" mode and I was ready to do whatever I had to,
to get out of the bar.

So I went full speed towards the door and I couldn't believe these girls were not
planning to get out of the way. I ran into them like a fullback running for a
touchdown. I knocked them out of my way like bowling pins, as I burst through
the door and began running down the street. While I was in the bar it had began
snowing outside. I ran straight to my hotel, glancing back only once.

No one was following me but I stayed at full speed all the way to my hotel.
When I got back to my room it was then that I realized that I never got a chance
to even pay for my Coke. I went to my room, locked the door and lay on my
hard bed wondering if my heart was going to pop out of my chest from beating
so hard.

My favorite GJJ sweater was splattered with blood so I reluctantly threw it away
in the trash. It was only my first day and I wasn't flying out for another two
days. I didn't know what to do because I feared they would find me to get
revenge. I wanted to just stay in my room and decided that if I ever left my
room I would walk in the direction away from the area of the incident. The next
two days passed without incident and I was so happy to be in a taxi headed back
to the airport.

I was now back in Japan with a working visa and ready to begin a new chapter in
my life as an English teacher. Japan was definitely a different place, much
different than Hawaii. Although I was a fourth generation Japanese-American
and my parents held on to many of the Japanese customs, there was still a lot of
customs I had to get accustomed to. The problem was, I am 100 percent
Japanese blood. So physically I looked exactly like a Japanese national so
because of my appearance I was expected to react and behave properly as the
Japanese etiquette required.

Japan has a lot of verbal etiquette rules. For example, after finishing a meal they
say, "Gochisousama deshita" which is giving thanks for a meal, "Itadakimasu"
which you say before a meal, "Otsukaresama deshita" which is said at the end of
a day of work, etc. So because I physically looked like a Japanese national, I
was expected to know and act on the verbal etiquette and when I didn't, I was
frowned upon and considered rude or arrogant. Now if I had blond hair and was
obviously a foreigner, there would have been more leniency and understanding.

The adjustment to Japan came a lot smoother because of the many customs my
family held on to because of their Japanese ancestry, but it was very difficult
because of the expectations that were put on me because of my appearance.
Toyoko and Eric helped guide me on living the Japanese way but another big
problem I had was the language.

As far back as I can remember, in my lifetime communication was never a
problem. I don't remember not understanding English, as long as I can
remember I understood the language. So being in Japan and not being able to
understand a single word of Japanese was something very new to me. I would
go on dates carrying an English-Japanese dictionary and communicate using the
dictionary for every word. That frustration made me want to communicate so I
made flash cards and memorized hundreds of words a week. My progress in
Japanese seemed impossible but to my surprise I was getting better.

After my first month in Japan my grandparents visited me and I was amazed at
my grandparents' ability to communicate in Japanese. When we rode the trains,
went to a restaurant to eat, or checked in at the hotel they communicated in
Japanese. I remember envying their ability and thinking that I would be satisfied
just to be able to communicate like them someday. How I wished I paid
attention and took my Japanese classes more seriously when I was in high
school.

However, there was no giving up. I lived in Japan and because Fukushima was
in the countryside, there were no English speakers and everything I did, from
going to the bank, to buying groceries was in Japanese. Then, to my surprise, six
months into my stay in Japan my grandparents paid me another visit and when I
heard their Japanese I noticed there were so many mistakes, to a point that the
Japanese barely could understand. Even I at times had to speak for them
because the Japanese people couldn't understand. I was flabbergasted. Without
realizing it, my grasp for the Japanese language surpassed their ability and I was
stoked! From then on, I was excited to study my Japanese and hit my Japanese
vocabulary three times harder.

Teaching English was an amazing experience. Eric and Toyoko taught me some
techniques and I was slowly getting a hang of it. I taught private adult lessons,
kids, big companies, and even went to a kindergarten to teach. One rule we had
was to never speak Japanese and because I couldn’t that was no problem.

Teaching English was fun and I realized that English is a hard language. There
were actually times that I couldn’t answer my students' questions. Like when do
you use “a” and when do you use “the.” Never in my life did I ever think I was
going to be in Japan, teaching English. Now I just played racquetball,
snowboarded, and taught English.



Chapter 11: Culture Shock – I'm NOT Japanese???

The culture shock was very subtle because of my Japanese upbringing in
Hawaii. My parents had pride in being Japanese and tried to hang on to the
Japanese culture as much as they could. My biggest shock moving to Japan
wasn't the food or the customs. My biggest shock was that I realized that I was
not Japanese. Growing up in Hawaii I always considered myself a Japanese.
Whenever I was asked what nationality I was, I always answered, "Japanese".
However, when I moved to Japan I realized that all I had that was Japanese was
my blood.

The language I spoke was English, and more importantly, the passport I carried
was American. I was also called "Gaijin" which literally meant "outside
person". I couldn't work or stay in Japan for longer than 90 days without a Visa.
When I bought a car it had to be in a Japanese person's name and when I bought
a house a Japanese person had to own at least 51 percent of it. When I moved to
Japan, it was the first time that I ever called myself an American. Coming to my
homeland, to my roots, was a very shocking experience. It wasn't a warm
welcome back to where my bloodline started but instead a very rude awakening
that I wasn't considered a Japanese.

During my second year in Japan my brother Egan realized I was going to be
there for a while, so one day he called me and asked if I was interested in being
part of the Japan division of his racquetball company E-Force. Egan felt that I
was someone he could trust and because I was now the current All Japan
National Racquetball champion, I would be a great asset to the sales of his E-
Force racquets. Up until then, for the past two years he was letting a man by the
name of Mr. Kaneko run the sales out of his sports club. I thought it would be a
great opportunity, so I set up a meeting with Mr. Kaneko and sat down to discuss
with him how we could begin working together. He seemed a bit caught off
guard and definitely was uneasy. I felt the meeting went well and I told him that
I'd be back in a week and we said our goodbyes.

The next day, Egan called me and was upset. After our meeting, Mr. Kaneko
had called Egan and told Egan, "If I have to work with Enson I don't want to do
this at all. I work alone or I don't want to do this at all." Egan felt that he was
out of line and that's when I became in charge of the sales of E-Force racquetball
racquets in Japan.

The only problem was my Japanese wasn't nearly good enough to be able to
comfortably converse, especially in a business type of conversation. So I asked
Toyoko, Eric's wife, if she could help me and she agreed. Her help was
tremendous and it helped increase the sales of E-Force racquets.

I was doing seminars throughout Japan while competing and winning the All
Japan national tournament. Things were going smooth for awhile until Toyoko
and I began having a difference in opinion about the company to a point where
there was some friction in our relationship. It was also taking so much of
Toyoko's time that I felt it might have been hampering the growth of her English
school. So I made a decision, a very big one that I really wasn't ready for. I told
Toyoko that I would take E-Force off her hands and try to run it all by myself.
Until this day I'm not sure if she was angry or hurt but she promptly answered
"Okay" and suddenly turned every thing over too me. I was hoping it would be a
more gradual change but I got everything dumped on me. I had to transport all
the stock to my small apartment and had to do everything from orders, faxes,
taxes, and deliveries in my very limited Japanese.

I sent a letter in Japanese that took me five hours to write, explaining the change
and that everything from orders to questions would be done by fax. Because my
Japanese wasn't yet good enough to communicate properly, I felt that doing
everything by fax would prevent miscommunication and allow me to be able to
decipher the faxes at my pace. Trying to do both was taking a toll on me. I
would get home from my English teaching job at around 9 or 10 p.m. then begin
going through the faxes of orders and questions about the product.

Figuring out each fax and breaking down each Japanese kanji would take long
hard hours. There were nights where I could barely get two hours of sleep
before having to get up and get ready to go to my English job. I would fall
asleep in the middle of a student's reading exercise and even brought my E-Force
work into my English job. I would bring the faxes I got from sports clubs and
have my students do translations for an exercise. Honestly, I wasn't sure if it
was all translated perfectly so all I did was correct the grammar and made sure
that I could grasp the meaning from their translation. I tried for months to make
it work but I felt myself breaking down so I decided to make a choice to pick
one job so I wouldn't drain myself and I could do a proper job. I felt there was a
better future in doing E-Force so I decided to quit my English teaching job so I
could concentrated 100 percent on E-Force.

I made numerous trip to Korea to manufacture a line of racquetball gloves I
named "The Partner." I also tried to start my own line of racquets that I decided
to name Purebred. I was lost as to what to name my new line of racquets and the
name Purebred came to mind because when you have a racquetball company and
you come out with a line of racquets, you will need to have a low line, middle
line, and a high line of racquets. So you're looking at anywhere between four to
eight different models of racquets that would need names. The name Purebred
came to mind because anything purebred would have to do with animals and I
felt that the line of new racquets could be named after animals, which was an
endless list. Also, anything that was Purebred like a dog or a horse was always
considered elite and much more expensive than a half-breed of any kind.



Chapter 12: A Man’s Dying Wish

Everything was going well especially when my girlfriend of three years,
Chiyoko Kasahara made the move to relocate and move in with me to help me
with the company. Everything was going well and sales began to pick up.
Chiyoko was a tremendous help and after the sudden abandonment of Toyoko
I'm not sure I would have been able to continue without her. We had three good
years behind us and even talked about marriage in our future.

I met Chiyoko when I first came to Japan. I was invited to participate in a big
racquetball tournament by a guy named Mr. Kaneko who owned a sports club in
Yokohama called Viva Sports Club. While in Japan I trained and hung out
everyday at Viva and got to know the staff very well. Chiyoko was one of the
staff at Viva Sports and she stood out. She was a very simple quiet girl who
caught my attention with her innocence and sweet personality. In time we
became good friends and eventually we saw each other more than friends to a
point where we called and kept in touch with each other even though I moved
hundreds of miles away up North to teach English.

Six short months after Chiyoko moved up north with me, her father was
diagnosed with cancer. I got along very well with her whole family, especially
her father who kept implying that he wanted Chiyoko and I to tie the knot. His
battle with cancer lasted about a year and I visited him about three times a month
only to see him getting weaker and weaker, thinner and thinner with each visit.
Then about a month before he died, Chiyoko asked me if we could just get
married on paper just so she could show her father to make him happy before he
passed. I agreed and I was in my first marriage. Nothing changed between
Chiyoko and I and this marriage was totally just on paper to please her dying
father. When I later decided that I was going to try to fight, Chiyoko was against
it. A year later I felt my love for her change into a sister kind of love so we
agreed to break up and just be friends. We quietly signed and filed the divorce
papers and, like leaves that drop off the branches of a tree in the fall, my first
marriage came and went. We no longer communicate and have been out of
contact for over a decade. She is now remarried and I hope she is happy and that
all her dreams came true.

I also hired another fellow racquetball player, Shoichi Sakai, who was someone I
felt I could trust to take over E-Force while I made my move back home to
Hawaii. Yes, for the past four years that I was in Japan my heart longed to get
back to the beaches, the warm weather, and the place where my whole family
was, Hawaii, the place my heart called home.

However, God had other plans for me. Little did I know I was on my way to
enter the ring to become a professional fighter. I didn't see it coming but the
pieces fit together like a puzzle and the ring was going to be my new home.



Chapter 13: Controlling the Fire Within

In my childhood I'd always been active in sports. At the very young age of five I
started playing Little League baseball and basketball. Then when I was in
elementary school, while still being active in baseball and basketball I also
started track and field and Pop Warner Football. Ironically, my mother allowed
me to play only a year of football because it was "too dangerous." In high
school I was a four-sport varsity player making the varsity team for baseball,
basketball, volleyball, and track...while on the side pursuing racquetball. When I
graduated from high school, baseball and racquetball were the two sports I
decided to concentrate on, eventually singling it down to just racquetball.

Training MMA for me was never about getting in the ring; it was a part of
survival for the streets. It was just a good way to channel my energy and learn to
defend myself and my pride on the streets.

I remember way back when I was only about 12 or 13 years old. I saw a
documentary in which a family was shown driving along a mountain highway,
the father, who was driving, lost control of the car and it went off a cliff. Then
to make things worse, when the car settled on the bank below, it caught fire and
burst into flames. The father managed to escape and knew he had to get his
family out before they got caught in the fire. However, he couldn't think
straight... he was in a state of panic. And because he was in a state of panic,
opening his car door, something he has done over a thousand times before,
became a seemingly impossible task.

He grabbed the door handle, pulled it and shook it to no avail. He couldn't do a
simple task like open his own car door because being in a state of panic jumbled
up everything in his head. The fire eventually got to the gas tank, there was an
explosion and his whole family died.

When I saw this documentary, I realized that, as a man, I must be able to protect
and take care of my loved ones at all times. So in order to be capable of doing
that, I must be able to keep a level head and be in control of my emotions no
matter what situation I'm in. I always visualize myself in that type of situation
and I pray to God that if that day comes I can keep my fears in control, keep my
cool, and save my loved ones.

I relate this way of thinking to sports, because no matter how well you can
execute a shot in practice, your nerves and emotions could drop your consistency
in half. In racquetball, for instance, if there was a shot I could hit perfectly 99
percent of the time in practice, because of the lack of control I had over my
nerves during a big tournament, that percentage could drop to about 40 percent.
Simple things like footwork would get complicated because I couldn't control
my nerves. Of course, this was no comparison to saving my family out of a
burning car, but it was a start.

Controlling my nerves in a racquetball tournament was a start to eventually
taking control of my nerves in a life and death situation. Four years of playing
racquetball all over the world helped me slowly but steadily conquer my nerves
to a point where my movement and shots in a big world tournament could be
executed with the same consistency and accuracy that I had in practice. This
proved to me that I was getting better at staying calm and thinking straight in a
situation where my emotions would disrupt my train of thought, which would
affect my capacity to execute things to the best of my ability.

I also got a lot of practice whenever I had television interviews or appearances.
Something as simple as talking became difficult. My voice would shake and the
words just wouldn't come out right. As the years went by I became able to be
relaxed and calm in tournaments and television interviews. But still I wasn't
satisfied. I knew I had a long way to go before I would be able to control my
emotions in a life and death situation. Then... I found a way to take this to the
next level.

It was 1994 and Rickson Gracie was coming to Japan to participate in Japan's
first big Mixed Martial Arts event, The Vale Tudo Japan. I trained with
Rickson's older brother Relson for four years and I got to know Rickson and we
became personal friends.

Now I'm a pretty quiet person when cheering for friends, but for some reason,
because it was a fighting event it was a bit different from a normal sporting
event.

It was something about fighting that boiled a different hot blood in me. I
couldn't believe that for fighting it was so different. If it were baseball, the
objective of the game would be to hit the ball and run around the bases to score
runs. If it were basketball, the objective would be to put the ball in the hoop.
Even a rough sport like football, the objective is to get the ball across the line.
But in fighting, the objective is to render your opponent unconscious or hurt him
so bad that he gives up or can't continue. When Rickson was fighting I found
myself losing control of my emotions.

Standing in my seat, screaming and cheering out loud like something had taken
over my body. Then it clicked in my head. If I can't control myself when my
friend is fighting in the ring then what would happen if I myself were fighting in
the ring? I knew the jitters I felt watching would be magnified 10 times if I were
fighting.

After the fight, a Karate friend, Mr. Shigematsu, told me he was interested in
fighting in MMA so he asked if I could show him some ground techniques. I
agreed and we drove to a Karate gym he trained at, Watanabe Gym. When we
entered, the owner of the gym, Watanabe Sensei, walked up, greeted me and
asked me if I was a fighter. I said no, but I did train as a hobby. He looked at
me with a big smirk on his face as if he were going to burst out laughing any
minute. One of his eyes was white, dead with nerve damage from boxing.

We entered the ring sparred and I had no problem taking Mr. Shigematsu down
and submitting him on the ground. After the training, Watanabe Sensei shook
my hand and said, “If you ever want to train. Come here anytime.” I nodded
and was a little humbled by this man's confidence and straight forwardness.

The more I thought about it the more obsessed I was to make the move to the
ring. However, I was currently the fourth time reigning Japan racquetball
champion and I knew I couldn't do both. I knew the ring was a dangerous place
so I wanted to give it my all, my 110 percent. I knew a loss in the ring could
result in a serious injury, so I wanted to use all my free time to prepare for the
ring. In the past, I trained martial arts as a hobby and for the streets and never in
my wildest dreams did I ever think I would someday be getting in a professional
ring.

So I decided to hang up my racquet and go full time in martial arts. Don't get me
wrong; I didn't get into the ring because I wanted to be the best fighter in the
world or to make money. It was my chance to grow as a man, because to me, it
was definitely not a sport. I started off by calling all the fighting associations like
Pancrase, Rings, UWF, and Shooto. All but Shooto asked me to send in pictures
and a resume and told me I had to wait for a preliminary test. Only Shooto didn't
seem to have a set procedure and they told me to come down so they could take
a look at me. So first thing the next morning I jumped on a bullet train and
headed one hour south to a town called Omiya. When I arrived in Omiya I
caught a taxi to the Super Tiger Gym.

As I entered the gym I was greeted by a friendly overweight man who I later
found out was the legendary 1st Tiger Mask Pro Wrestler, Sayama Satoru. We
talked a bit then off to the mats we went. When we got to the mats there was a
young small Japanese fighter, Nakai Yuki, stretching and getting ready to train.
Sayama then asked me to grapple with him so I did for about 15 minutes. In the
15 minutes, I had total control of him and must have put him in every position in
the book. I mounted him, took his back and only felt really uncomfortable
whenever he began attacking my legs. It was obvious he understood nothing
about ground position and when we were done Sayama looked really excited.
We sat on the mat with Sayama and he looked over to Nakai and said, "We can
use him." Nakai replied, "Yes, we sure can!"

We went to dinner and Sayama asked me if I could make my pro debut in two
and a half months. That caught me off guard and I quickly answered, "Pro???
No! Amateur is fine." Then Sayama said, "Don't worry. You'll be okay at
pro." So I thought, get in the ring, feel it, then win or lose, in control or out of
control, that was it. Just one fight to get the experience. I had no desire to fight
as a professional and Hawaii was my home and that is where I needed to return.
So I accepted Sayama's offer and began training for my very first Professional
Martial Arts debut.



Chapter 14: My Debut into MMA – Shigeta Shingo

To train for my debut I decided to drop everything in Koriyama and move to
Omiya. I even stopped cold turkey competing in racquetball tournaments so I
could prepare for my ring debut. To me, this wasn't a sport but a regulated
fight. How could you even consider this a sport when the objective is to hurt
your opponent?

I lived in one of the private rooms in the gym and trained with the 4th Tiger
Mask, Yamazaki, everyday. As I frequented the gym I came to learn how
famous Nakai was. When they made me spar with him, I thought I was sparring
with one of the members but little did I know I sparred with one of the toughest
and best Shoot fighters they have. I then decided to take Nakai under my wing
and teach him the proper ground positioning. He didn't understand a single thing
about the ground positioning of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu but he was a very fast
learner. For my personal preparation, everyday it was always just me and
Yamazaki.

I was about 185 pounds and he was only about 165 pounds so I beat him up
everyday. It seemed like he always had a bleeding nose or a swollen ear. As my
debut got closer I was getting more nervous and Sayama was making some
changes to the Shooto rules to adapt to my style. Sayama had created a whole
new rule he named Freestyle rules to adapt to my Jiu-Jitsu background. Before I
came onboard the Shooto rules prohibited all ground punching. To help adapt to
my style he created a new rule that would allow ground punching. So when
Sayama created the new rules he called Freestyle rules and then called the old
rules General style.

As I was showing Sayama a lot of the Ju-Jitsu techniques, I noticed he was
featured on television and in magazines showing these techniques saying that he
figured them out. Numerous times he would tell me that I am a secret weapon
and that’s why he never mentioned me. I didn’t care and just let it go.

This was going to be just the second time these Freestyle rules were going to be
used in Shooto, and Sayama expected the media to go crazy. As the fight drew
nearer I was working more and more on my takedowns because my stand-up
game sucked. As for my ground, I was a solid purple belt and felt confident if
the fight went to the ground.

Before I knew it, it was the night before the fight. I was physically 110 percent
ready but emotionally I was a wreck. I couldn't stop my mind from imagining
what it would be like getting in the ring and I was so nervous about it that I
couldn't get much sleep. The strategy for the fight was to play with my jab and
pretend like I felt comfortable on my feet but keep my eyes open for the opening
to take him down and bring the fight to the mat.

Then it was fight day. I was 27 years old and all my fellow racquetball players
came to see how I would fare in my new venture. For the last four years I had
been the top racquetball player in Japan, and I just quit racquetball giving no
warning, to properly prepare myself for my ring debut. This was a one time
thing for me, just to see if I would be able to control my emotions. I knew it
would be near impossible but the more experience I got now, the better prepared
I will be, if a real test were to come in a life and death situation.

My element was on the ground because of my Jiu-Jitsu background. For my
ring entrance song I decided to go with a Hawaiian group because I was really
proud of my Hawaiian roots. My ring entrance consisted of two songs the first
one by Bu Laʻia called "Day Old Poi" and a Hawaiian group named Ho’oaikane
sang the second. For my fight trunks I chose red, white, and blue tights to
represent my true nationality, American. For my corner I had my brother Egan,
my sparring partner Yamazaki, and Nakai.

I remember walking into the ring and looking over at my opponent only to see
him glaring at me like he hated me. So I glared at him back and could feel my
heart churn and I felt the urge to smash his face get stronger and stronger. My
feet didn't feel like my own and I felt as if I were walking on clouds. In other
words, I was so nervous that a simple thing like walking became a foreign thing
to me. On the other side of the ring, Shigeta was continuously staring at me like
he wanted to fuck me up and that stirred up mixed emotions in me. I felt a bit of
fear, which gave me the urge to hurt him bad, and the desire to get the fight
started ASAP.

Every fighter feels fear – it's totally normal. What makes the difference between
a man and a warrior is what he does with the fear. Some people have the
misunderstanding that a warrior fears nothing, but I believe otherwise. I believe
a warrior feels fear like any other man, but doesn't let it conquer and control
him. He conquers it to a point where the fear becomes his friend. If a fear
conquers you, it will become your enemy. However if your can feel it, prevent it
from conquering you, then control it. It will turn into incredible power for you.
I'm not going to sit here writing this book and pretend to all of you that I had no
fear in the ring because I did. But never once did fear ever get the best of me,
ever.

Then the gong rang. I felt like I was walking on clouds as we approached each
other in the center of the ring. I threw a few jabs just waiting for a chance to
shoot in for a tackle but he never committed. This flustered me and I was
wondering what I was going to do if he never committed to attack.

Then just when I was getting antsy he committed with a low leg kick and that
was my chance. I got a hold of his leg, easily took him to the ground and went
straight to the mount. He had absolutely no knowledge of ground positioning
and was lost and in a state of panic. Although my ground punching was horrible
I rained down punches expecting for the fight to be stopped but to my surprise it
was much harder to finish with mount punches than I thought. To my surprise, I
was actually getting tired and winded, mount punching my opponent. I began
getting a bit worried but sucked it up and continued punching.

It finally came to a point where Shigeta was grunting and groaning with every
punch that hit him and the referee moved in closer to get a closer look. I knew
the end was near so I delivered a few more hard shots to the back of his neck
until the referee finally stepped in and stopped the fight. I felt angry and wanted
to continue hitting him but with the stern pull on my arm from the referee I
snapped out of the semi trance I was in and realized that I had won the fight.
What I found very interesting was during the fight I felt like an animal instead of
a fighter.

I didn't want to just win, I wanted to break my opponent. When I was in the
mount I had numerous chances to take his arm and finish with an arm bar but I
chose another route. I instinctively didn't want to just win, I wanted to break
him. Instead of having him tap because his arm was going to break, I wanted to
make him tap because he thought he was going to die. I felt an animal part of
me come alive and I loved the feeling. When the referee pulled me off, I could
still feel the adrenaline running through my body keeping me in a dream state
knowing that my emotions had totally taken control of me. Damn, I still had a
lot to learn but was so glad I finally got this ring experience under my belt.

That's all I wanted, I was done and ready to move back home to Hawaii.
However Sayama had other plans. He wanted me to fight again even though I
had told him from the beginning that I just wanted one fight.



Chapter 15: Bad Rules – Rene Rooze

I wasn't sure if getting in just once made me prepared for a real life and death
situation but I felt that it was definitely better than never feeling it. So as
planned, I got the experience and was ready to move on with my life. I came out
of it alive and I was done. I didn't want to fight again, but to be honest, I was
actually enjoying the rush I got in the ring and the little fame I was starting to
get. I was relieved that I walked away without injury and was stoked that I
finally got to experience what I felt would be uncontrollable emotions. However,
the media covered the event like I was already some famous fighter. My fight
was only the 2nd fight of the night, which usually gets only the results printed in
small print, but my fight, for some reason, was treated totally different.

My fight got a full-page color picture with the headline, "Birth of a Japanese
Monster!" With the brand new "anything goes" rules and the fact that Gracie
Jiu-Jitsu was the talk of the Martial Arts scene, my fight hit the spotlight. The
timing of my debut was just perfect. The Japanese media found someone of
Japanese descent who was a Gracie Jiu-Jitsu practitioner and they just jumped all
over it.

It was so funny how I was considered an outsider or a "Gaijin" all these years,
and the moment I get the spotlight, they wanted to consider me Japanese. I
resented that because I felt I was being used just for their benefit. All these
years in Japan as a “nobody”, my life was made two times more difficult
because I was a foreigner. I needed a visa to work and stay in Japan. Even with
a visa I couldn't be sole owner of a car, house, or company without a Japanese
citizen on the title owning at least 51 percent.

I was offended, but decided to go with the flow, because the write-up in the
magazines was full of praise and positive light. I wasn't sure what to do:
whether to do as I planned and end it with one fight, or to go with the flow and
take advantage of the publicity I was getting. The next morning at the gym,
Sayama sensei called me in to his office and asked me if I wanted to fight again
in April, three months later in the Vale Tudo Japan Tournament.

I was baffled because just a year ago in the 1994 Vale Tudo, I was in the stands
cheering Rickson. I asked who was going to be in the tournament, and he said
he wasn't 100 percent certain, but he wanted to have Rickson back to defend his
title. I instantly declined his offer. Rickson's older brother, Relson, was my Jiu-
Jitsu teacher/brother. Rickson is Relson's younger brother and was a personal
friend of mine. To me, because fighting is not a sport, I wouldn't even consider
fighting someone I called a friend. When I fight, I go in with the mentality to
hurt or kill my opponent, and am also ready to die in the ring if I have to. To
me, thinking of hurting a friend, especially someone like Rickson who I
admired, was beyond me. I also didn't consider myself even near Rickson's level
and remembered that I was only in this for the experience.

When I declined the offer because my debut fight had such a big impact on the
fighting world in Japan, Sayama insisted I participate in the event even if it
wasn't in the tournament. After all the time he gave me training me for my debut
fight, I felt the least I could do for him is fight one more time for him. So, I
confirmed with Sayama that if there was no chance that I'd be fighting Rickson,
I'd be more than happy to participate in the event for him. He then asked me to
participate in a special single fight, and I accepted.

Two weeks later, Sayama again called me into his office to inform me that they
had decided on my opponent. It was going to be a Dutch fighter by the name of
Rene Rooze, known as a very dirty fighter. He was 6 ft., 7 in. tall, and an
established fighter with almost no ground skills. All I had to do was take the
fight to the ground and he would be all mine. However, the rules for the fight
made me very uncomfortable. The part of the rules I felt most uncomfortable
with was that the fighters were allowed to grab the ropes in order to prevent
themselves from going to the ground. I didn't like this rule because takedowns
take a lot of stamina, and if your opponent can grab the ropes, it makes it three
times harder to take him down. My wrestling sucked, and I had no chance with
Rene if it were kickboxing.

So by all means I had to get the fight to the ground. I was training very hard for
this fight, and I decided to wear the same fight shorts I wore for my debut fight.
The tights were red, white, and blue tights with a Gracie triangle and a Super
Tiger Gym's logo on it. At that time I considered myself a Gracie practitioner
and was also grateful for all the training Sayama was giving me, that's why I put
those logos on. I kept on my red, white, and blue tights because I wanted to
emphasize the fact that I was American. During the four years I was playing
racquetball in Japan, I experienced so much prejudice.

The day before the fight at the rules meeting, I went to talk to Rickson about my
uneasiness of the rule that you could hold on to the ropes. Rickson just chuckled
and said, "If he holds the ropes with his right arm, you hit him on the right side.
If he holds the ropes on the left, you hit him on the left. It's simple, my friend."
Rickson was someone I really looked up to, so his calm demeanor and simple
explanation wiped my worries away immediately. When fight day came, I had
the 6th fight of the night, so I was relaxing in my room watching the fights on
my television monitor.

Two fights before my fight was Rickson vs. Yamamoto, the first round of the
tournament. As I watched the fight, as expected, Yamamoto respected Rickson's
ground technique and began holding on to the ropes to prevent from going to the
ground. To my surprise, everything wasn't as simple as Rickson had said. He
couldn't get Yamamoto to the ground, and was taking a lot of hard punches. At
one point in the fight, Yamamoto even got Rickson in a tight guillotine, and
cranked Rickson's neck. Rickson was in a battle, and the rope-holding rule was
the only reason Yamamoto ever had a chance. As the fight went on, you could
tell Rickson was feeling the punishment, and I thought, "Holy shit...what am I
going to do?" If Rickson couldn't get his opponent to the ground, what am I
going to do? Egan and I began brainstorming, and that's when Egan came up
with foot stomping. Soon it was my turn to fight, so I got psyched up and
mentally prepared for war.

This time my ring entrance song consisted of two songs. The first song I again
used Bu Laʻia's song "Day Old Poi" and for my second song I used Queen's,
"We Will Rock You". My entrance songs pumped me up and I was ready for
war, but for some reason I felt more nervous than my debut fight. I guess the
mixture of the rope holding rule and that the arena was 10 times bigger than
where I fought my debut didn't help. My debut was held at Korakuen Hall that
had a capacity of about 2,000 people and this fight with Rene Rooze was at the
Nihon Budokan that had a capacity of 50,000.

I felt very uneasy and nervous, but there was no turning back now, so I had to
psych myself up and prepare for battle. When I finally got into the ring and was
staring Rene down, only then did I realize how tall he was. He was 6 feet 7
inches, a good 10 inches taller than me. However, his height didn't worry me
much because I was confident that I would get him to the ground and on the
ground, height didn't matter. Then the gong sounded and we were off! To my
surprise he didn't come out attacking me like he did in all of his past fights that I
saw on video. Instead, he just sat back and waited for me to make the first
move. This worried me because all the months of preparation were spent
preparing for a fighter that was going to attack me right off the bell. He didn't
and all our preparation was out the window. I knew I was in a bind but just had
to go with the flow.

We just circled each other and waited for each other to make a move. I was
trying everything I could think of to lure him in to attack me. I glared at him;
got close and pointed to my chin like, "hit me here!" and even began stomping
my feet pretending to attempt a tackle. However, he was patient and didn't bite
the bait. So I decided to make the first move and close the distance one step at a
time. Then I slowly closed the gap until I was in range, and then shot for a
tackle. Luckily, I timed it right, got a hold of him without taking a single punch,
then set up for my first takedown.

However, as expected, before I could take him down he ran back to the ropes,
and wrapped his arms around it. He was so much taller than me that my punches
had a hard time reaching him and even if they did they really weren't hurting
him. However, I was really feeling the elbows and punches he was dropping
down on me. It was a nightmare. I just couldn't seem to get him to the ground
and was taking a lot of punishment. He was dropping elbows and punches down
on my shoulders and head that were rocking me with every shot, he caught me
with some hard knees that knocked my wind out, and he was heeling the back of
my calves so much they both had contusions. Although I caught him with some
solid foot stomps he was getting the upper hand and I was taking a beating.

Then an idea just popped into my head out of nowhere. If he can use the ropes, I
thought, then so can I. So my first move was to climb up on the first ropes to
eliminate the height difference, which would take away the leverage of the
punches and elbows he was dropping down on me. Then as I was trying to
jockey myself in between him and the ropes, I saw an opening as he was trying
to hang on to the ropes with both hands.

I somehow ended up between the ropes with Rene's back facing me. I then
instinctively used the ropes like a ladder, climbed up his back and sunk in a
choke from the back. I couldn't get it in that deep but I felt it was deep enough
so I locked in the choke hard and squeezed the choke tight. He then panicked
and tried to jump out of the ring with me on his back.

The choke was in tight and I wasn't going to let go unless he tapped or went
unconscious. As he tried to fall out of the ring, I just hung on and got ready for
the fall. Luckily the referees were on the ball and grabbed a hold of our legs, as
we were about to fall out of the ring. They pulled us back into the ring and with
me attached to his back we fell to the mat. I still had the choke locked in good
and as soon as we hit the mat he began tapping frantically on the mat signifying
he was giving up. I then released the choke, got up, and raised my hands in
victory. I could feel my calves tightening up, so I quickly left the ring, so all the
fans and Rene wouldn't see that he hurt me.

As soon as I got to my locker room I began icing my calves and approximately
an hour later, my calves swelled up twice their normal size. Then about five
hours after my fight and for the next four days I had to hobble and walk sort of
like a penguin. God must have been watching over me because I was taking a
beating and climbing the ropes to get to his back was just done by chance. Now
I was 2-0 and wondering if I should actually get into the ring for the third time or
count my blessings and be grateful that I climbed into the ring twice and was
still healthy and alive to talk about it.

When I got back to the gym, Sayama was ecstatic. He was talking about when
my next fight would be and naming different fighters he thought would be good
for me to fight.



Chapter 16: Arm bar, I’ll break it – Ed De Kruijf

I was ready to move on, chalking up my two fights as growth to becoming a true
man. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be in the professional
fighting ring, being considered a professional fighter. Getting into the ring was
just part of my journey to becoming a true man. Never once did I think of it as
being a career. Even my martial arts training, I just trained martial arts to be
able to defend myself on the streets, not to get in the ring.

Now here I was 2-0 and ready to put this behind me, when a week after my fight
with Rene Rooze, Sayama came to me and asked me to fight in an event he was
producing in Omiya. After all he had done for me, and all the time he had spent
on me, I felt that fighting for him just one more time was the least I could do for
him. I accepted again telling myself that this time for sure it was my last fight.
The opponent Sayama chose for me was the European Cage Fighting Champion,
Ed De Kruijf. When I saw the videos of his past fights I noticed he was a very
well rounded fighter with his striking being his weakest point.

However, my striking also sucked. So even though he had a wrestling base, my
strategy was to get him to the ground and let my Jiu-Jitsu do the work. Another
concern I had was the infamous dirty Dutch fighter Gerard Gordeau was going
to be in his corner. Gordeau was famous for gauging Welterweight Shoot fighter
Nakai's eye, destroying all the nerves in his right eye killing his eye and causing
him to have to retire from MMA. I flew home to Hawaii to train for this fight,
working my ground and cardio with Egan.

I did so much conditioning on the beach in the deep sand that my weight
dropped to 202 lbs. but I felt fast, strong, and ready to go. Fight Night came and
we were the co-main event in the dark, hot skate center they turned into a fight
arena. The arena was packed and the ring we were fighting is was a poorly
made Octagon/Ring with net between the bottom ropes and the ring. The lights
were also too low and too strong which created a sauna effect in the ring. All of
the early fights went smoothly, except for the controversial disqualification loss
my buddy/training partner, Carl Franks, suffered.

Then my turn came up. The nervousness was still there, strong, but much less
than in my first two fights. Again, like my debut fight, I started out circling my
opponent throwing jabs, waiting for the right time to shoot in and take him
down. We both sucked at our standing technique and it seemed neither of us
wanted to commit to a heavy punch or kick. Then suddenly, on a lazy jab, one
of his fingers poked my eye. The pain from his finger going into my eye caused
me to start blinking and rubbing my eye in order to try and regain my vision. I
tried to keep my distance hoping my vision would come back quickly,
wondering if that was on purpose or just an accident.

Then as he noticed that I was having a hard time seeing with one of my eyes he
became a lot more aggressive towards me. I saw an opening when he came in
for a kick so I grabbed onto his leg. I had a good grasp of it so I lifted him up
off the mat and threw him down. As soon as we hit the ground he put me in a
headlock and began to squeeze my head. The fact that he was squeezing my
head so hard just showed his lack of knowledge of submissions because there
was no way he was going to submit someone just by squeezing a headlock.

I knew the more persistent he was with squeezing my head the more time I was
going to have to slide to his back. In the brief scuffle we ended up on the edge
of the ring when the referee yelled, "Stop! Don’t move!" Instinctively, before
the three referees got into the ring to drag us to the center of the ring, I slyly
grabbed the ropes and slid my body a little bit to the side for better position.
That enabled me to get my foot hook in deeper, that made it easy to promptly get
his back as soon as the fight was restarted. You could say I cheated but it was
done instinctively and the referees let it go so you could also say otherwise.
What was funny about the whole thing was that instead of his corner being
aware of me adjusting my body into a better position when the referee told us
not to move, Gordeau screamed something in Dutch which triggered Ed to begin
to squeeze my head harder. I think he thought that he was going to hurt me by
getting in a long squeeze without the referee knowing. However all this did was
show me his lack of understanding of submissions and get me a bit agitated.

We were reset in the center and when the referee yelled, “Ready? Go!" I
instantaneously based up with my right hand, popped my head out from the
headlock he had me in, and quickly took his back. From there I could tell he
was lost and had no idea how to get me off his back. So I just took my time and
picked my punches.

To get me off his back he was trying to pull my head down hoping that I would
slide off but I had my hooks securely in, so I was supposed to be safe. However,
because the lights in the arena were so low and so hot, we were sweating
profusely, so I could feel myself beginning to slip. He could feel me beginning
to slip and he was still on all fours so he stood up on his feet with his arms
stretched out to the mat. That's when I saw my chance. I let myself slide down
to his left and positioned my body into a perfect inverted arm bar. I then
grabbed a good hold of his wrist so he couldn't twist his arm out then I began
hyperextending his arm. I could hear his ligaments in his arm popping but he
didn't tap. So I torqued his arm to the other side and more ligaments began to
pop.

Finally the referee stepped in and stopped the fight. Ed and Gordeau began
complaining and protesting that he didn't tap and I began to feel the same way. I
wished the referee didn't stop me because I would have damaged Ed's arm so
bad it would have given him a big lesson on how dangerous arm bars were. It
was apparent they didn't understand what an arm bar was and felt cheated. What
they failed to realize is the referee saved Ed's arm and possibly his career. I
circled over to where Gordeau was standing and glared at him hoping he gave
me a reason to punch him in the face but he avoided eye contact with me. I still
felt animosity for what he did to Nakai's eye and wanted a reason to hit him.

Wow. My third win in a row, one technical knockout and two tap outs. Three
wins a row, but I was certain I was done and ready to move on. However, an
amazing thing happened, for the August issue of the biggest fighting magazine
in Japan, I got on the front cover! Now again I couldn't stop fighting after
getting a front cover spread. I really wanted to call it quits, but damn, I was on
the cover of the biggest fighting magazine in the country, so again I reluctantly
told myself...okay...just one more fight.

Note: After this fight I got a call from Relson Gracie telling me that Rorion
wanted me to take the Gracie triangle off my fight shorts. I was surprised
because I only put the logo on to show appreciation for all Relson had done for
me. It really disappointed me, but I respected their wishes and took the logo off.

Sayama was excited and I didn't want to pop his bubble but I again told him that
I would do just one more fight.



Chapter 17: Wow I might actually be good at this – Andre Mannaart

In Japan K-1 was the biggest and most respected event and for my next opponent
Sayama picked the Dutch K-1 fighter, Andre Mannaart. Of course, because
Andre was a respected K-1 fighter and my standing still sucked, I had no
intentions of trading punches and kicks with him. His punches and kicks were
far superior to mine. This was by far the biggest challenge for me and I was
anxious to see what this next fight had in store for me. The strategy was the
same as my last fight so my training didn't change much: A lot of conditioning,
takedowns, and grappling.

I also decided to make sure I kept my guard up and slowly and steadily continue
to move forward and close the distance. He was either going to keep moving
backward or he would have to commit with an attack, which is when I could
close in for a takedown. Just the fact that he was a K-1 fighter, meant that
everyone was considering this to be my true test. Little did anyone realize that
K-1 was not MMA... in fact it was far from it. It is like comparing racquetball to
tennis just because you use a racquet or like comparing a dog and a cat. I had
my insecurities, but knew that if I trained hard and smart I would be okay.
Leading up to the fight I could feel doubt in the interviewers questions and on
fight day there was a buzz in the crowd anxious to see how a respected K-1
fighter would do in MMA rules.

When the gong rang, I stuck to the game plan. I kept my guard up high and
began to constantly move forward. Mannaart backed up until he was against the
ropes and then he did exactly what I expected. He came in with a punch. Then
with perfect timing, I shot in, grabbed his legs, lifted him up, and slammed him
on the mat. I stabilized my side control and waited patiently until I saw the
opening when he bridged to try to turn me over. I made the instant transition to
the mount. I easily secured my position and, because he was strictly a kick
boxer, he didn't have a clue on what to do to get out.

I took my time and just softened him up one punch at a time, waiting for my
corner men to give me the 30-second call. If I heard my corner call out the 30
second mark I was going to start forcing a submission without being too
concerned with keeping position because time would be up soon. I connected
with only a few punches but I guess the referee saw that it was a done deal
because he stepped in and stopped the fight before I got the 30 second call.

I personally think the stoppage was much too fast, but Andre was a class act and
took the loss graciously and congratulated me like a gentleman. He did
however, ask me to fight him again in the old Shooto General rules where there
was no ground punching and a lot of breaks to start the fight standing. I was
reluctant but felt it would only be fair. However, Sayama wanted to move on, so
this rematch never materialized.

Before this fight, I had decided that this was really going to be my last fight. But
being 4-0 with all four of my opponents never making it past the first round was
an accomplishment. Especially now after beating a legit K-1 fighter, the
Japanese media was going crazy on me being the next big star for the Japanese
people. All the hype got me thinking, and although I did this only to gain
control of my emotions and fears, I seriously began to wonder if I actually had a
future in this. How good was I? Could I be one of the best in the world? I sat
down, thought it out thoroughly, talked it over with Egan and made up my
mind. I was not going to fight just one more, but instead I was going to readjust
myself and seriously make a run at being a professional fighter.

There were moments in those days of pondering my future that I couldn't believe
what I was deciding and seconded guessed myself a lot. I knew that I was a
man, and that when my mind was made up, I would give it my all. I would put in
110 percent and no one or any thing could change my mind. A few days after
my victory over Andre, my life took a drastic turn.

I was not only never going to move back to Hawaii, my home, the place I loved
with all my heart. I was now in top gear to try to become the best fighter I could
possibly be. Hawaii was still in my heart and Japan was still a foreign country to
me, but it was like I was blindsided. Becoming a respected fighter in the world,
and fighting the world's best suddenly became a dream that I was going to give
my all to. I was prepared to make whatever sacrifices I had to. In my heart, I
was now a "Professional Fighter".

Now, I realized over 10 years later, the shot I missed in the racquetball court
over a decade ago, the shot that I thought for a decade was the worst thing that
happened in my life was actually a blessing in disguise. For if I didn't miss that
shot 10 years ago, I would have never retired from racquetball and therefore I
would have never went back to school. In school I found GJJ. And because
Egan was still on the pro tour he had to decline the invitation to play in Japan, so
I went in Egan's place. To make a long story short, if I didn’t miss that
racquetball shot I would have never come to Japan. So despite the initial upset,
it turned out to be the best thing that happened to me.

Everything happens for a reason and if we can keep the faith, keep our heads up
and continue to move forward, the reason will eventually be revealed. As
human beings, whenever something we think is bad happens in our life, the first
thing we ask is “why?” Our impatience as human beings makes us want to
know immediately but, unfortunately, God has a plan and he will tell you in due
time. So have faith and perseverance and in time you will see that, everything...
yes everything, happens for a reason.



Chapter 18: Catching a Robber

As I was winning fights my popularity was growing. Although I did do a lot of
bad things when I was in Hawaii I felt a small change coming about inside of
me. Episodes that were happening in my life and the choices I was making in
the episodes made me realize there was a change taking place.

One of these episodes was on one of my off days. It was a nice calm day and I
was killing time in Chiba. I had a lot of free time so I decided to try my luck at
Pachinko. Pachinko is a pinball type of gambling game popular in Japan that
you rarely win at but if you get lucky and pick the right machine, you could win
a lot. This day I got lucky and my machine hit a jackpot after only putting in
about $20. My machine dumped for about an hour and when I felt it was getting
cold, I cashed out. When I cashed out, I got paid $280 so I profited $260. Not
bad for an hour of fun and excitement but little did I know that the real fun and
excitement was about to start.

I was content and proudly stuffing my earnings in my pock as I walked back to
the train station when I suddenly heard, "Burglar! Burglar!" coming from a
small side alley. I looked over to where I heard the screams and I saw a guy in
his mid 30's come scampering out of a pawnshop and dash down the street.
Seconds later an older gentleman burst out of the pawn shop ran after the
younger man who was already far down the street. The older man was weak
from his old age and as he ran in the direction the younger man ran he suddenly
fell because of his weary, aged legs.

Seeing the commotion I approached the old man, helped him up from the
ground, and asked him what happened and if he was okay. He was out of breath
but managed to say, "That guy stole jewelry from my shop! Oh no, what am I
going to do?" He then ran back into his shop and got on the phone. I then
looked down the street where the burglar ran and he was nowhere in sight. I
didn't think it would be any use to run down the street after him so I figured that
I continue on my way to the station and just keep my eyes open for the younger
guy who was wearing a green jacket. Then, as I was walking down a narrow
alley a few streets away from the station, I heard footsteps coming up from
behind me. I turn around to see who it was and lo and behold, it was the guy
with the green jacket running towards me.

"Holy shit!", I thought. It felt like there was a typhoon whirling in my head as
my mind raced, debating what I was going to do. Do I just let him run by and
mind my own business or should I grab him and call the police? As I was
pondering on what I should do I could hear his footsteps getting closer and I
knew I only had seconds left to make my decision. Then when the burglar came
running up besides me, even though I still hadn't decided on what I was going to
do, I just reacted. I turned towards where he was coming from, stuck my arm
out, grabbed his neck, and took him to the ground.

I proceeded to instinctively mount him to hold him down. He seemed like he
was trying to get his hands in his pocket, so just in case he was reaching for
some kind of weapon, I held the hand that he was trying to put in his pocket and
put one of my knees on his throat. He then began screaming, "It hurts! It hurts!
Stop hurting me!" I really didn't care because I feared he was trying to get a
weapon so I didn't let up until I noticed that dangling out of his hand was a thick
gold necklace. He then threw the necklace in the bushes next to us, however just
to be safe I kept the pressure a bit longer. He then began screaming, "You're
hurting me! Take me to the police! I'd rather go to the police than be here with
you!"

When he finally stopped struggling so much I eased off on the pressure and
asked him why he did what he did. The reason why I asked him is because if it
was for food for his family or if he did what he did because he was in a big
financial bind, I was actually considering taking the necklace from him so I
could return it to the shop and let him free.

However, he was in a panic and all he could say was, "I didn't do anything, I
didn't do anything!" So I felt that it was no use in talking to someone who was
set on lying so took out my cell phone, called the police and asked them to come
as soon as possible. About 10 minutes later four police officers came and to my
surprise they thought the guy I had mounted was the victim. "Get off of him!
Let him go!" I turned to the police officers and explained to them that this guy
was the perpetrator and I was the one who called them. They looked confused
for a moment but finally realized who was who and quickly came and
handcuffed the guy I was mounted on. I then got off the mount walked over to
the bushes and retrieved the gold necklace the thief threw. The police then
asked me to come down to the police station to fill out a report. After the report
was filed, the storeowner thanked me and the Police Department gave me an
honorary certificate of appreciation.

Filing the report took approximately four hours and the storeowner’s thank you
just didn't seem sincere at all and honestly it just wasn't worth my time.
However, I didn't do what I did for a reward or because the storeowner was a
friend. I did it because my instinct told me that it was the right thing to do. Just
not being appreciated was very disappointing but if it happened again I would do
it all over again simply because it was the right thing to do.

Funny how back in the day when I was growing up in Hawaii the roles would
have been different. I would be the one running and I would have never
imagined that someday the roles would be reversed.



Chapter 19: Rude Awakening – Joe Estes I

Wow. I'm now a professional fighter. Ready to do WHATEVER it takes to
become one of the best fighters in the world. Now I had to make some
adjustments in my life that would definitely include some major sacrifices. One
was moving out of the North and relocating to Omiya. I loved Koriyama and
had so many friends there, but there was no training available and Sayama
Sensei was in Omiya. Second, I wasn't about to make the same mistake I did in
my past and give only 50 percent, I wanted to give 110 percent.

In the past, I split my time between baseball and racquetball and performed very
mediocrely in both. I also didn’t train as hard as I could. Egan trained hard and
was literally training 5 times harder than me. He made more sacrifices and
never missed a workout. I on the other hand, slept in occasionally, cut workouts
short, and sometimes gave myself a day off because I was in pain from the
previous days workout. Egan stopped playing baseball and went full time into
racquetball; I on the other hand did both. So this time instead of pursuing both
racquetball and fighting at the same time I decided to choose just one. So after
being the #1 racquetball player in Japan for the past four years, I decided to hang
up my racquet and give 110 percent to my fight training. Also, the girl I was
seeing at the time was against my fighting. She gave me an ultimatum that if I
decided to fight I was on my own and I had already made up my mind that I was
going to fight so I was suddenly single which helped me dedicate myself to my
new dream: Mixed Martial Arts.

I bought a van for transportation and spent everyday gearing up to become the
best fighter I could possibly be. I had a little apartment where I basically just
stored all of my luggage and washed my clothes. I would sleep and shower out
of my van and stop by my small apartment just to wash clothes and fill the water
tank I used to shower. All my van's seats flattened out so the back of my van
became a big bed and I bought a battery-operated hose I could insert into the
water tank for my shower. Oh, and of course my loyal beloved Pit Bull, Shooto,
was always with me be my side. Even if I were to get lucky, and score a hot
hostess she would end up sleeping in Hotel Toyota, my Toyota van. I had no
shame, for fighting was now my dream and the new found mission I was chasing
with all my heart.

I felt comfortable at 202 pounds so I didn't feel the need to put on more weight
and spent more time increasing my stamina and speed. My next opponent, Joe
Estes, was going to be an ex-football player who weighed about 253 pounds,
outweighing me by about 50 pounds. I wasn't too concerned because when I use
to train in Hawaii there were guys just as big and I never really had problems
grappling with the extra weight. I took the fight and was ready to up my fight
record to 5-0. Estes was training out of AMC and being trained by a very
respected fighter/trainer Matt Hume so I knew Joe was going to be prepared.

The stare down before the fight was intense because Joe was staring me down
like he wanted to punk me and I wasn't backing down an inch. When the fight
began, at first contact I could feel the power and weight Joe had. I felt that Joe
was too big to take down to take top position so instead I pulled him to the
ground and put him in my guard.

Up until this fight I still had my head in Jiu-Jitsu mode and the bottom position
when my opponent was in my guard was still an advantageous position in my
eyes. Little did I know that today I was going to get a wake up call that MMA
and BJJ are not always the same. I felt my technique was better than Joe's, but
every time I was positioning myself for a submission or an attack I could hear
Matt's voice giving him the perfect advice to stop my attack or counter it. It was
frustrating.

There was nothing Joe was doing to me that I felt put me in danger, but the fact
that I couldn't do shit to him made me feel helpless. The fight was three boring
rounds of Joe in my guard controlling me, defending all my submission and
sweep attempts. Finally the gong to end the fight sounded and the decision was
made. Joe Estes was the winner by majority decision 3-0. I was devastated. I
felt so lost and frustrated and knew I had to re-evaluate my training and needed
to up my game drastically. My striking needed to be worked on and I needed to
put on more good weight.

Although I just suffered my first loss, the focus on my goal, of becoming one of
the best fighters in the world didn't waiver one bit. My face was swollen and
marked-up and my pride was hurt, but I was far from being broken. Not for a
split second did I feel like quitting, but instead I was determined to train harder
and go back to the drawing board and crush this obstacle in the way of my
dream.



Chapter 20: The End – Igor Zinoviev

My next fight came up before I knew it. I was trying to put on weight, but
putting on quality weight was harder than I had imagined. I was also
incorporating a lot of cardio in my workout, which made it that much harder to
put on weight. My next opponent was going to be a Russian fighter by the name
of Igor Zinoviev. My striking was getting a lot better but I didn't have the
confidence that I could execute it properly in a fight, so again, my strategy was
to avoid the standing and take him to the ground. I knew virtually nothing about
Igor, so it created a little bit of uneasiness in me. I was a bit insecure because of
my last loss to Estes, but I went back to Hawaii to train with Egan and I trained
so hard all my insecurities were wiped out. I busted my ass day after day doing
everything I needed to and doing it 110 percent.

The fight with Igor was almost like a replay of my last fight. I took him down
with ease except this time Igor was better prepared and he put me in a tight
guillotine. I wasn't ready for it, but as I felt him squeeze, I wasn't too worried
about it. However, I underestimated his power. From the bottom he cranked the
guillotine, and the pressure was so tight on my neck I had to give up the top
position and put him in my guard. I don't remember much after that except Egan
was in the ring asking me if I was ok. I asked Egan, "What happened?" Egan
replied that I got knocked out from ground punches. I couldn't believe it.

That was two consecutive defeats and I was crushed. I trained so hard for the
fight, and it was all over in 44 seconds. I was devastated by the loss and I felt
like something was squeezing the life out of my heart. For the first time in my
life I doubted the strength of my heart and my decision to dedicate everything I
have to this sport. Also, as we were walking back to the locker room, Egan
suggested I hang up the gloves and channel my energy towards Jiu-Jitsu. He felt
there was just too much to cover in MMA and in the mist of my disappointment
Egan's idea actually was a bit appealing, but I decided to ponder it a few more
days.



Chapter 21: I'm not just finished just yet – Mushtaq Abdullah

I was so devastated by my 44 second KO by Igor that the weakness in my heart
caused me to look for a way out, and I thought Egan's suggestion to hang up my
MMA gloves and pursue Jiu-Jitsu instead might have been the answer. I decided
to think it over thoroughly but I was so disappointed... not just because I lost,
and not just because I got knocked out, but because I trained so hard and
dedicated so much to a fight that only lasted a mere 44 seconds. I was teeter-
tottering 50/50 and it scares me now to think how close I was to hanging up my
MMA gloves for good. I hated to think I was a quitter, but instead I looked at it
as making a possible career change.

Like baseball, you get three strikes, so to be fair to myself I decided to give my
all for one more fight and see what happens. I thought that if I lost, again for the
third time, it would be my last fight. It wasn't about just pulling out a victory: it
was about truly testing my ability as a fighter for the last time. Sayama and most
of the people around me suggested I take an easy fight to get the win, but I had
different ideas. I wanted to see what I was made of and if I still had what it took
to be a great fighter. I wasn't looking for someone I knew I could beat, but
rather someone I thought could beat me. Someone with ferocity and intensity
that would make most people run away. I didn't want to prolong anything. If I
wasn't cut out for this fighting stuff, I wanted to find out as soon as possible.

The one I had in mind was a fighter from Iran, a wrestler named Mushtaq
Abdullah who had destroyed Sanae Kikuta in the same ring that I lost to Igor in.
Mushtaq showed no pain when he fought Kikuta. Sucking up the pain of a knee
bar, pounding his way out of a near fight-ending hold, breaking Kikuta's spirit in
a TKO victory. Yes. That's whom I wanted to fight to decide my fate in my life
as a MMA fighter. I felt that if I could beat a monster like Mushtaq then I earn
the right to call myself a MMA fighter and I would continue my career, and if I
couldn't then I was done.

I was working hard on my striking at Watanabe Gym and was excited to try my
striking out but at the same time a bit scared that this may be my last fight. I
weighed only 204 pounds while Mustaf weighed in at a solid 215 pounds. I was
going into this fight ready to be on my feet or on the ground, but because
Mushtaq was a wrestler and my wrestling sucked, I was training a lot of fighting
off my back. Because his wrestling was probably a lot better than mine, I
planned to fight him standing until he wanted to take it to the ground. I knew
absolutely nothing about him except that he was Iranian and had a wrestling
background. There were no videos of his past fights except what I saw in his
fight with Kikuta and that made me a bit uneasy but I was ready for war.

As soon as the starting gong sounded, I took the initiative and checked him with
an inside low leg kick. Then before he could get set I stepped in with a big right
cross and "Bam!" it hit it's mark and he went down. I wanted to step in and
finish him off but before I could I noticed him tapping the mat frantically
signaling that he quit. As soon as I noticed that, I assumed it was over so I
abandoned my attack and raised my hands in victory. I then walked to one of
the corners, stepped up on the first ropes proclaiming my victory towards the
cheering crowed.

As I turned around I noticed the referee was counting and Mushtaq was getting
back on his feet. What?!?! It's not over? I turned to the referee and while
gesturing with my hand, I said, " He tapped." The referee looked at me like he
didn't understand what I was saying so instead of repeating myself and giving
Mushtaq more time to recover, I turned back to Mushtaq and quickly resumed to
the fight. He tried to take me down but I stopped him. He then threw a big
roundhouse haymaker at me. I ducked under it, got my feet set, and "Bam"
landed another solid right. As soon as he hit the ground, again, I saw him begin
to tap the mat. But this time instead of letting the referee give him another
chance, I jumped on him and prepared to pound him. Suddenly the referee
jumped in and called the fight.

When I realized I had officially won the fight, I felt this overwhelming surge
inside as if all the blood in my body had been set on fire. I raised my hands in
the air, looked up to the heavens, closed my eyes, and suddenly all the muscles
in my body flexed as if they were giving out a big scream. That's when I
realized that the amount of worry and insecurity that a fighter has about a fight,
all shows in the celebration after the victory. Either I was too focused on the
fight or I made myself ignore it, I was a lot more worried and insecure about this
fight than I had imagined. Well, that didn't matter now because I was now back
and here to stay.

After having to beat Mushtaq twice I came to a conclusion. My job in the ring
was not to stop fighting on my own power when I see my opponent tap. My job
was to beat my opponent, smash him, and annihilate him until the referee stops
me. As a fighter I can't worry about the jobs of the ring doctor, judges, or
referee. I must just concentrate on doing my job to the best of my ability, which
is to hurt my opponent, break him until one of the officials stop me. Never again
will I play the role of the referee and stop fighting on my own power. I will
focus on one thing and one thing only... to break the man standing opposite of
me, that is wanting to break me too. Kill or be killed!



Chapter 22: Slapped in the face by Jiu-Jitsu – Rei Zulu

After the Mushtaq fight I took five months off to concentrate on putting on more
weight. I definitely wanted to fight in the unlimited weight class and 205 lbs.
was much too light to be fighting 250 pounders. I was determined to put on only
quality muscle and without drugs or excess fat six pounds was the best I could
do. I was now a solid 211 lbs. and I was offered a fight in the biggest most
prestigious show, The Ultimate Fighting Championships (UFC). The UFC's
rules were a bit different from the Shooto rules I was used to, so I asked Sayama
if I could fight a tune up fight in Shooto with UFC rules. Sayama could get the
rules changed to suit the UFC rules better, but not 100 percent%. He managed
to get the rules to allow elbows but couldn't get the bare fist rules okayed.

Oh well, better than nothing, I thought. Sayama agreed and began to search for
an opponent for me to fight. Ironically, the fighter that he found was the
infamous Brazilian wild man, Rei Zulu. What was really amazing was the
primary reason I started training Jiu-Jitsu was because of a video I saw of
Rickson Gracie and Rei Zulu in Brazil. No one in Brazil wanted to fight
Rickson except the so-called crazy man named Zulu. Rickson ended up choking
out the bigger Zulu and that's when I got hooked on Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. However,
never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would be fighting that wild man
Zulu about 10 years later.

For this fight, I wanted to concentrate on my standup because Zulu was a very
unorthodox fighter, and I personally thought that his striking was very sloppy, so
I felt my standing was good enough to take him. Before the fight I noticed that
in Zulu's corner there was a very well known Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu practitioner,
John Alberto. I was shocked!!! BJJ always had a fierce rivalry with Luta Livre
and I considered myself 100 percent a BJJ guy and to see a senior BJJ guy in the
corner of a rival, a Luta Livre guy was beyond comprehension for me. Was it
because he was a Brazilian too? I had so much love for BJJ that I felt betrayed,
and just because I wasn't Brazilian??? Then as if it wasn't enough, just before
the fight started, John Alberto began complaining to the referee about the way I
taped my hands. I was infuriated with John Alberto and in the middle of my
wrath and anger stood Zulu. I wanted to hurt someone so bad.

This was the first time I felt personal anger before a fight and I didn't know how
it was going to affect my performance. John Alberto's meaningless complaints
caused about a five-minute delay to begin the fight and I was so angry that I had
a hard time waiting for the starting gong to ring. Finally the gong sounded and I
went straight for Zulu. I first checked him with a solid inside leg kick, then, just
like what I did to Mushtaq, I unleashed a straight right that hit right on his chin.
Down he went and, to be sure I didn't make the same mistake as my fight with
Mushtaq, I didn't let up and continued the assault.

I was on him instantly to finish the kill only to be stopped by the referee who
gave him a standing eight count. After he got the standing eight, I was again on
him catching him with another right cross. He staggered and crumpled to the
ground so I put in my hooks and took his back preparing to put an end to the
fight. As soon as my hooks were set in I noticed he was haphazardly tapping the
mat signifying his defeat but I wasn't going make the same mistake as I did in
my last fight so I took advantage of the revised rules and rained down elbows on
the back of his head until the referee stepped in and called the fight. My mindset
was set on "kill" mode and my adrenaline was pumping so much that when the
referee came in to stop the fight I instinctively pushed the referee away and gave
Zulu one more punch.

I really don't know why I did that because I had nothing against Zulu and I didn't
want to hurt him knowing that the fight was already over. When I got his back
and was raining elbows down on his head I felt like it was the finale of a
fireworks display where the last 30 seconds is a nonstop flurry of flash and light
and before silence took the scene I felt like it needed to drop just one final bang.
The last punch I dropped was more like a slap than a punch as I got off of Zulu's
back.

Then it finally sunk in to me that I had just won and I was victorious over the
infamous Rei Zulu. As Zulu was staggering to get back on his feet John
Alberto's betrayal suddenly popped into my head and I felt a rush of fury take
over my body. Then instead of being satisfied and happy with my win, feeling
betrayed was all that filled my mind. I then tried to make my way to where John
Alberto was only to be corralled in the far corner by Egan like I was an out-of-
control wild beast.

I was physically restrained, so instead I lashed out verbally. I screamed, "Are
you Jiu-Jitsu? Are you Jiu-Jitsu?" I was 100 percent loyal to Jiu-Jitsu and it
really hurt me to be betrayed just because I wasn't Brazilian. First, I proudly
displayed the Gracie triangle to show my appreciation for all the Gracie's taught
me only to be asked to remove the logo from my fight trunks, then this. Was I
not truly accepted by the Gracie family as an important person in the clan? I
wasn't angry; I was more disheartened and disappointed. This is the first time I
wondered if I was really a BJJ fighter. Yes, that was my roots, but I felt like an
outsider. I was confused.



Chapter 23: Shooto Meeting

I only had seven fights but I was already establishing my fighting style. I had
this kill or be killed style and gave everything I had in every fight. I began
attracting a lot of fans most being gangsters of Yakuzas. I had nothing against
underworld figures, so I befriended many of them just as I would anyone else.
However, the Shooto Association got wind of my relationship with them and
called me in for a meeting. I had no clue what this meeting was for as I went to
it accompanied by my manager/friend Sakai. When we walked in I noticed two
referees, Suzuki and Ogawa were there along with another man I never met. I
also noticed that the commissioner, Urata and the founder Sayama weren't
present.

I was curious to what this meeting was about as I took a seat in the middle of the
table. Suzuki began to talk as he expressed concern about my relationship with
the Yakuza. He said that I was representing the Shooto Association and that
they are concerned that my relations with the Yakuza will hurt Shooto's
reputation. Then suddenly the man I never met before took control. I've seen
him always sitting ringside at the Shooto events although I was never introduced
to him. He started off wrong by referring to me as "Omae" a very rude way to
address someone. The word alone lit a little fire inside of me but I did my best
to keep cool. He went on to say that I need to cut all ties with anyone who is
Yakuza speaking down to me with no respect. By then the little fire became a
big fire to a point I no longer could control it.

I pounded the table and looked at this unfamiliar face and said, "Who the fuck
are you? Who do you think you are to talk to me with so much disrespect? I
don't even know your name!" He responded by telling me his name was Sato
and he is an ex-cop that specialized in tracking down Yakuza and that helped out
the Shooto commissioner Urata, in the past.

I was boiling by now so I lashed back saying, "I don't give a fuck who you are!
You have no right to speak to me with so much disrespect!" I went on to say,
"Cut my friends just because they are Yakuza? Are you guys fucking kidding
me?" I paused and took a deep breath. I glared into Sato's eyes and said, "In all
honesty I have Yakuza friends that I can trust more and that have more honor
than anyone in this room, so you guys can fuck off!" I then stood up and walked
out of the room. My manager Sakai ran after me in tears begging me not to
leave but I'd had enough and left.

I felt they had no right telling me who I could and could not be friends with in
my personal time. And to top it off they stepped over the line talking down to
me as if I was one of their servants. Respect is given to those who deserve it and
to those who respect.

I left the meeting fuming and on a mission to find out who this Sato guy was! I
called all my sources and found out a very disturbing fact about Sato. It was true
he was an ex-cop that was a specialist in Yakuza, but what he failed to tell me,
was that he was fired from the police for working with the Yakuza and making a
big amount of illegal cash from it. I couldn't believe it!!! He is in no position to
tell me not to associate with Yakuza when he personally did himself. I was
pissed and planned never to talk to this asshole ever again.

Months passed when they had another Shooto event. As usual I went to attend
and again Sato was sitting next to Urata. I ignored him until he saw me and I
was confused when I saw him walking in my direction. I pretended not to see
him and before I knew it he was right in front of me. He stretched out his hand
and said, "Hey Enson. How have you been?"

I couldn't believe my ears and my first instinct was to slap his hand away from
me. Although we were in the middle of the Shooto event I didn't care. I blurted
out in a loud voice, "I did research on you! You are 10 times dirtier than me. I
know you got fired from the police force because you did illegal things with the
Yakuza! You have nerve telling me not to associate with them when you
yourself did!!! More than me, a Shooto fighter giving Shooto a bad name by
associating with Yakuza, YOU sitting ringside after what you did is worse for
Shooto's reputation!"

His jaw dropped as he started muttering something I was too upset to hear. I
told him, "You are a disgrace to Shooto and don't you dare to ever come talk to
me again." Then I walked away. All the fans along with the Shooto officials
saw what I did but no one came up to stop me. I had a feeling the Shooto
officials knew and was shocked that I found out and revealed it to everyone. It
must have been true because at the very next Shooto Sato was no longer sitting
at ringside.



Chapter 24: Problem with Relson Gracie – Ridiculous Ultimatum

From the day I began training GJJ I had a loyalty to it that I felt would never
die. My loyalty for the art and GJJ and my loyalty to Relson Gracie, my
instructor, I held strong in my heart. However, with the mixture of the strict
rules, of not ever training anywhere else, not showing anyone GJJ techniques,
and their fear of teaching an outsider of the Gracie Family too much was
confusing to me. The art they had was supposedly so untouchable yet they were
so insecure about it. I was always at Relson's house watching videos and
hanging out. I practically lived there. He was like a brother to me and because I
was always at his house, I got to know his brothers well.

Rickson, Royler, and Royce Gracie would come over often and although they
knew how close Relson and I are, I felt a weird distance from them. There was a
time when Royce Gracie came over from Brazil to visit and I asked him to show
me some technique and he was more than happy to. So we went to Relson's
garage and we lightly rolled as he began showing me new moves. It was
awesome and going well when suddenly Rorion Gracie popped in and began
telling Royce something in Portuguese. Then to my surprise Royce turned to me
and with a chuckle he said, "That's all for today my friend, I can't teach you too
much." I was a bit bummed but more grateful to him for showing me what he
did. I then knew that no matter how close Relson and I got, I would never be
considered real family.

There was actually an incident that was the beginning of the break between
Relson and I. Because Relson's English was still minimal and hard to
understand, whenever we ran seminars and exhibitions in Hawaii I would be the
one speaking and running it. We went to school dorms, Martial Arts events and
even shopping centers. I printed the first Honolulu, Hawaii GJJ t-shirts and even
gave Relson one of my old cars. We were like brothers and I was willing to do
almost anything for Relson and GJJ.

The first sign of instability between Relson and I was when he began putting me
in a rock and a hard place by putting pressure on me to keep my brother Egan at
a distance when it came to GJJ. At one of the seminars we did in Hawaii where
Relson's brother Rickson was in attendance there was a problem when Egan
videotaped the seminar only to be stopped. However, Egan was able to continue
by promising them that he was taping it for them and would turn the video over
to them after the seminar was over. I found it strange that one, that they didn't
trust Egan who was my blood brother and two, that they were so insecure of
their incredible art.

The problem began when Relson claimed that Egan took too long to turn over
the video. After the seminar was over it took Egan about 2-3 hours to bring the
video to Relson's house. The Gracies were pissed and accused Egan of copying
the video against their wishes before bringing it to Relson's house. Until this day
I really don't know if Egan actually did that but I have a feeling he did. Relson
was furious and I had mixed feelings. I was bummed that Egan might have
broke his promise to them and more bummed that Relson would react so
drastically to my own brother as if he were an enemy.

At the next class I went to after the incident, Relson pulled me to the side and
told me of his disappointment with Egan and then forbade me from teaching or
even talking about anything related to GJJ. I was in a tough situation and at this
time I wasn't strong enough to be straight up with Relson. In fact, I was showing
half-ass loyalty to both sides. I was being untrue to Relson because I was still
teaching and showing Egan techniques while at the same time not being true to
Egan by at times avoiding a lot of discussions of GJJ with Egan. I felt weak and
didn't like the situation Relson put me in.

My move to Japan just created more distance between Relson and I, and
although the awkward situation between Egan and Relson lingered, whenever I
came home to Hawaii I would train in Relson's class. This all came to an end
when I went to train with Relson after one of my trips back home to Hawaii. I
remember it vividly as if it happened yesterday.

I walked in to the studio at the University of Hawaii and was approached by
Relson near the door just as I stepped on the mat. In his broken English he came
straight to the point: "You need to choose between your brother Egan and
myself." I was baffled!!! I thought I was hearing things. However, Relson kept
a straight face and waited for my answer. I didn't know what to say. Relson,
who I considered my brother, was giving me a ridiculous ultimatum by making
me pick between himself and Egan!

He could have asked me for any other favor and I probably would have done it
but what made this so different was, he wasn't just asking me to make a
ridiculous choice, he was showing he doubted my loyalty and really didn't care
for me like I did for him. No matter what kind of problem I had with any of his
brothers, I would NEVER ask him to choose between myself and one of them.

I looked Relson in the eye just to confirm the authenticity of his demand and I
could see it in his eyes that he was dead serious. A mixture of sadness and anger
rushed through my body and I looked Relson in the eyes and replied, "You give
me no choice." I turned around and began walking out the door. The 10 feet to
the door seemed like one mile as I left the studio without Relson saying a word.
I couldn't believe what was happening and knew that I had just lost something
dear to my heart.

Losing Relson as a brother/friend was hard for me. I missed his company, his
guidance but most of all I missed just hanging out with him sharing smiles and
laughs.



Chapter 25: Pan American BJJ Riot

As if losing a dear friend wasn’t painful enough, having that friend turn on you
doubles the pain. This was a sad day in my life. It was a nice sunny day and I
was back in Hawaii to watch my brother fight in the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Pan
American event. He was entered in the brown belt division and his opponent
was one of Rickson Gracie's brown belts, Bruno.

Egan's match was scheduled for noon and it was weird because it was already
11:30 a.m. and Bruno was nowhere in sight. Nobody had seen him since that
morning and we were getting worried he might not show up. As noon
approached, Egan walked up to the tournament desk and asked if his match was
on time and they said yes and told him to get warmed up. He began to stretch
and 30 minutes later his match was called. He walked to the mat a bit
bewildered because there was still no sign of Bruno. Then just as he got to the
mat the referee told him that his match was going to be postponed to a later time.

Egan was a bit confused but walked off the mat and went back to sit in the
bleachers with the rest of his team. The same routine happened three more times
within the next five hours when Bruno finally come walking in the gymnasium
at about 5 p.m. What made everything worse was that Bruno didn't seem like he
was in any kind of rush. He just strutted into the gym with his gi slung over his
shoulder and was even greeting friends as he strolled over to the tournament
desk. Finally at a little before 6 p.m. their match was to begin. As the referee
began to do the routine gi check of Egan and Bruno's gis I went to the side of the
mat to root Egan on.

Out of the blue, the referee signaled to Egan that his gi sleeves were too short
and he had to get another gi to fight in. This was impossible because this was
the same gi that Egan used at the World Championships a few months ago and at
the Worlds, they do a complete thorough check of the competitors gis.

So Egan disrobed and walked up the bleachers to his bag where he kept his extra
gi. However, to our surprise, he just picked up his bag and began to walk
straight for the exit to leave the gymnasium. I was confused and a bit worried
when Egan left the gym so I ran after him to see what was going on. When I
finally caught sight of Egan he was walking towards the parking lot and his belt
was just thrown on the ground in the middle of the walkway about 50 feet
behind him. As he reached the parking lot I yelled to him, "Egan! Where are
you going?"

He screamed back to me, "I'm tired of their bullshit, tell them to go fuck
themselves!"

Seeing Egan so upset and having watched all the bullshit that went on, my blood
began to boil. Tell them to go fuck themselves??? Hell yeah I can do that.
Maybe a bit more... I turned back to the gymnasium and began a full sprint
back. I planned to return to the arena, go to the officials at the tournament desk,
tell them to fuck themselves, and then flip over the tournament desk! As I was
running back to the gymnasium I could hear Egan yell, "No Enson!!! Somebody
stop him!"

About 100 feet from the gymnasium I ran into a childhood friend, Carey Higaki.
Carey saw my face and my demeanor and he knew I was out of control. He tried
to tackle me but I managed to get by Carey. As I got passed him he also began
to yell, "Stop him! Stop him!" My next obstacle was my Father. He is a bit
overweight and out of shape so I managed to juke by him too. After getting by
Carey and my Father I had a clear path straight to the wide open gymnasium
doors. As I approached the gymnasium doors, two 300 pound plus security
guards suddenly appeared at the door blocking the doors as I approached.
Apparently they heard Carey's screams and were prepared to stop me from
getting in.

These security guards were so big that just the two of them standing at the door
blocked the doorway where there was little or no space to get in. From my rage
I decided to try to run right through them. I was so angry that my thinking was
so clouded I thought 190 pound me could bowl over the 300-pound plus security
guard. I ran full speed, put my head down and tried to run right though one of
them. I imagined bowling this security guard on his ass but when I ran into him
it felt like I ran into a brick wall and all I did was make him take a few steps
back. On impact, I could feel it was mission impossible as I tried to hit and roll
around him.

Unfortunately, a desk they were using to sell t-shirts was in the way and I ran
into the desk, knocking down the desk and all the t-shirts. Then the other 300
pound plus security guard grabbed me and I was stuck. Then as my Father
approached the ruckus, two other security guards jumped on him knocking him
to the ground. Then as if everything wasn't crazy enough, along came Egan. As
Egan approached, the first thing he saw was me getting held down by three guys
and the next thing he saw was my father being held down by two guys with one
choking him. Egan then went into "save his family" mode and went ballistic.
He began throwing punches dropping guys left and right. Then Kekumu and
another one of Egan's students jumped in and more bodies began to fall. As for
me as much as I struggled, I had three guys on me so all I could do is watch.
Because of the rush of people and the fact that the riot was at the doorway, no
one from the inside could get out and no one from the outside could get in.

Eventually Egan was also restrained by three guys and pulled back about 20 feet
from the door against a wall. At the same, time I was also being restrained side
by side with Egan by about three guys too.

Then out of nowhere, Relson Gracie stands up onto a table so we could see each
other and began to taunt us. He made faces at us and motioned with his hands as
he gawked at us saying, "Here I am, come and get me!"

"What an idiot", I thought. No one is holding him back and he can see that we
have three guys each on us so it would be impossible for us to get to him. Then I
realized that Relson was just taunting us and in reality he wanted no part of Egan
and I. Instead of standing far away on a table in safety, if he really wanted to get
us he could have just walked over to us without a problem.

Then, while we were being dragged back into the parking lot, I suddenly heard a
woman's voice screaming, "You people should be ashamed of yourself..." I
instantly recognized that voice and it was no other than my dear mother. Both
my father and mother were right in the middle of the mix. My father mixing it
with the security and my mother ripping Relson hard with her mouth! They are
true fighters, and with their upbringing with the "Don't take shit from anyone"
belief it is probably where I got my Yamatodamashii, my fighting spirit.

When we finally reached the parking lot there were about five police cars
arriving so to be safe and avoid getting arrested we promptly jumped into our
cars and went home.

At the time of this riot Egan and I were both brown belts under the Machado's
and I was stoked to see Rigan Machado standing by our side through the whole
riot. However, Egan made a decision that surprised me when he decided to
break away from the Machado's and find a new group to train under. I supported
Egan 100 percent, because when I heard his reasoning it made sense. The reason
why he decided to no longer stand under the Machado flag was because he didn't
want to cause any more problems for the Machados. The bottom line was that
they are the blood cousins of the Gracies, and the feud with the Gracies and us,
was just putting them between a rock and a hard place. The Machados
understood, we shook hands, they gave us their blessings, we thanked them for
all they have done for us, we wished each other luck, and went our separate
ways.

Relson Gracie went as far getting Temporary Restraining Orders out on both
Egan and I. I knew then that Reslon had turned on me. I was living in Japan
and there was no sense in trying to get a restraining order on me except in spite.

Currently I have no beef with Relson. At an event called "Shogun" in Hawaii I
approached Relson and told him I was willing to bury the past and wished him
luck. He agreed and we shook hands and this feud that has been going on for
years had finally been ended.



Chapter 26: Unexpected Change Sayama Fired

After the ties with Relson and GJJ were severed, I was now a legit Professional
Shooto fighter. I was so proud that when I got my first tattoo I put the kanji
mark of Shooto " 修斗 " on the back of my left shoulder. I was training at
Sayama Satoru's "Super Tiger Gym" and was surprised when suddenly the
owner/financial backer of the gym wanted to talk to me. When we met I was
shocked because he informed me that the founder of Shooto, The 1st Tiger
Mask, Sayama Satoru was getting fired because he was spending too much
money, putting the company into the red by 3 million dollars in five years.

They were getting rid of Sayama and if I didn't want to take over the gym, they
were going to close it down. I didn't know what to say at first because all I had
was a small racquetball company, E-Force Japan, and wasn't sure if I was ready
to run the gym. I conferred with my manager at the time and decided to put the
gym under my company and try my best at running the gym. The fact of the
matter was, that if I didn't take it over, they were going to straight up close down
the gym.

The second part to this problem was really a big problem for the whole Shooto
association.

This is a very long story that was kept undercover for the longest time. I believe
this is something Shooto doesn't want to be exposed but to be fair I believe
everyone has the right to know what happened.

A group called Ryusha Group was being threatened by their bank, that if they
don't get rid of the Shooto gym then the bank would have to drop Ryusha Group
completely. Ryusha Group was a multi-million dollar company that ran health
centers, pachinko parlors, funeral homes, and a food service center. Instead of
letting all of their businesses go down, they decided to just cut off the Shooto
Association which meant discontinuing Shooto events which would result in the
end of Shooto. Mr. Nakamura, the head of Ryusha Group, called a big meeting
with everyone involved in Shooto.

He explained the problem and asked if anyone was willing to take over Shooto,
which meant running Shooto events. He asked Kawaguchi of Yokohama Shooto
Gym, Sakurada of Gutsman Gym, Nakai from Parestra, Sakamoto from Sustain,
all the big dogs but no one was willing to take the chance.

I thought about it and wondered if I would be putting my racquetball company
on the line by adding Shooto, a company in the red, to the company. However,
my whole life is an adventure and taking a gamble like this was not out of the
ordinary so I raised my hand and told Mr. Nakamura that I was willing to take a
chance and take over Shooto. No one would take the gamble except me. All
the other gyms sat back and watched to see if I would succeed or flop and when
I succeeded all of a sudden they all wanted to get on board. I wasn't trying to
monopolize Shooto so I agreed to join up with all the other ones who wanted to
promote and we all split the promotion within the year.

No on else was willing to take the chance, only me. They all know that if I
didn't take the chance Shooto would have been finished. My racquetball
company, E-Force Japan, became the sole promoter of Shooto events. So E-
Force applied for and was issued a promoters license, which enabled us to
promote Shooto events.

However, instead of appreciating this through good times and bad, the first
problem I have with the law they take away my promoters license only because
two years had passed and there was three other gyms participating in the
promotion of Shooto events. The three other gyms that started promoting
Shooto events didn't want to do so until they saw me run a few. After I ran a few
successful events then they wanted to give it a shot. Let it be known to the
public today that if I didn't take the gamble no other Shooto associate would
have and there would be no Shooto today. I know this just as well as all the top
people involved with Shooto, who like to pretend this never happened. Well,
now let it be known.

I was now fighting under my own gym, which I decided to name after my new
line of racquetball racquets called Purebred. Officially, "Super Tiger Gym
Omiya" was renamed, "Purebred Omiya".



Chapter 27: Birth of Yamatodamashii – The Spirit of the Samurai

With eight fights behind me, my fighting style was established. I fought to
finish my opponent in any way I could. Whether it was physically, mentally, or
emotionally. it didn't matter. I wasn't interested in winning on points and I never
wanted to leave it in the hands of the judges. It was literally: I had to hurt him
before he hurt me.

One thing I am known for is, even though I faced some of the best fighters in the
world, never once did I give up or "tap out". This is a very misunderstood thing;
in all honesty, it has nothing to do with how tough I am. A lot of people come up
to me and say that they don’t understand how I don’t tap but it's actually not that
hard to explain.

You see, when someone sees an arm breaking, it is not the same to me as hearing
my own arm popping because of the mindset I go into a fight with, I am in total
control with what I'm feeling inside. Your two different mindsets can make the
same situation look very different.

Your whole life is about options. When you’re driving a car and a person jumps
in front of you, you either hit the person or swerve left or right. There’s always
an option. When you’re getting your arm broken or when a fighter is in any
critical type of situation in a fight, there are also options.

For most fighters that are in a normal mindset, there will be options throughout
the fight that pop up into their head. Usually two options will pop into their
heads if they are caught in an arm bar: my arm is going to break or I need to tap.
Fighters train hard, fighters experience fear…that's the point of exhausting
themselves so much in training that they feel like falling down because they
cannot do another rep or sparring so intensely they think they might really be
hurt.

A lot of fighters don’t take it in the right way. They don't absorb it deep enough
to change the person that they are. If a fighter applies all the trials and
experiences he goes through as a fighter, it will help him grow as a person.

For me, I’ve tried to apply all that I've learned in fighting to my daily life so I
don't just grow as a fighter but as a person too. The discipline of diet and
sacrifice before a fight, the perseverance to get up and train everyday, and the
strength to push harder even though your body is screaming in pain.

The more I can absorb, the more I can take with me into my daily life even after
my fighting days are over. I try to live my life the Yamatodamashii way, where
you give everything you’ve got until the very end. The only time you know you
couldn’t do it is because you absolutely had no more options. You couldn’t do it
because you’re out of any more options.

Basically, when I’m getting in an arm bar and can hear my arm popping, because
of my mindset, the two options that come to my mind are: your arms is going to
break or you need to get the fuck out of the arm bar. And in the heat of the
moment when you only have a split decision to make that choice the only thing
you can choose from are the options that pop up in your head.

There is no time to reason or analyze. It pops into my head, get out or get your
arm broken. I don’t want my arm broken so I’m going to get out. As I’m getting
out, I’m never going to know when my arm breaks. I don't ever want to wonder
what would have happened if I didn't tap.

Would I have gotten out, or would my opponent have given up and moved to
another hold? Only God knows when my arm will break. It’s like how you go to
sleep when you get choked. Only God knows when you go to sleep from a
choke. Who am I to decide and play God and decide when my arm is going to
break, or I go unconscious? All these people come and pay millions of dollars to
watch the fights. I get paid six figures to fight. I’m there to entertain, give 110
percent, and leave everything in the ring. That’s all I do.

Fans pay a lot of money to see me fight. The promoter pays me, kisses my ass,
they fly two corner men to my fight, put us up in hotels, gives us food money,
get me on TV and in magazines. People are going to come from all over to
watch me fight and some even cry at some of my fights. Some even cry when I
walk to the ring. It’s that big of thing. It's more that just a sport.

So I'm definitely going to give all I have! I'm not going to anticipate when my
arm will break or when I will pass out. There's a referee, ring doctors, and your
corner men so I just trust them and concentrate on doing everything in my power
to keep fighting. Think about it... in the last 20 years of MMA, I can recall only
three instances where a fighters arm broke before they tapped. Renzo Gracie,
Miesha Tate, and Minotauro Nogueira. Ninety-nine percent of the fighters will
give up before their arm breaks. Ninety-nine percent of the fighters will give up
before they go to sleep.

Why? Because of fear they are not in the right mindset. Fear is making them
anticipate the outcome. They are assuming that their arm is going to break.
Instead, I will assume that I'm going to get out. My thinking is really different.
It all depends on what your mind is focusing on. I’m focusing on finishing an
opponent. If he hits me hard enough to wobble me, I’m focusing enough that I
hit him right back with the same kind of punch or to avoid being hit again so I
can recover.

If I get caught in an arm lock and I can hear the ligaments pop, I’m thinking --
That mother fucker! Before he breaks it, I’m going to hit him or kick him,
anything that might create a way to escape the situation. It depends on your
mindset and what you’re focusing on. If a fighter is focusing on the penalties of
failure; of his arm getting broken or getting choked unconscious, the fear of a
horrible outcome will usually allow "tapping out" to become an option.

Fear is inevitable, but depending on your mindset when fear sets in, your choices
will differ. My fear is going to make me stronger. My fear is going to make me
want to get out before he breaks my arm. My fear is going to give me adrenaline
to punch, even if I am so tired, kick even as I hear my arm popping.

When I was a kid this philosopher came and talked to me. I always went to
sports psychology for racquetball. This guy told me you’re either going to focus
on the penalties of failure or the rewards of success. This is the exact situation
you are in when your arm is going to break during a fight. In that situation, what
I mean by rewards of success is getting my arm out and eventually stomping on
my opponent's face. Penalties of failure would include getting my arm broken or
being choked unconscious. Which one you are going to focus on determines
what you choose.

For example, imagine if I were to put a plank of steel about a foot wide and
about 10 feet long on the mat, a soft cushioned mat, the same kind of mat you
can find probably in most MMA and BJJ schools. Then I put $1,000 on one end
and tell you if you walk from one end to the other without touching the mat, and
you can pick up the money without stepping off the plank, you can keep the
$1,000. What would you do? I bet without a second of hesitation you’re going to
get up, walk the plank and pick up the $1,000.

However, what if the situation was a little bit different? What if I was to put the
same $1,000 on the same plank but instead stretched it across to the other side of
an adjacent 10-story building. What are you going to do? If you even decide to
take the challenge you're definitely not going to be able to walk normally with
the same confidence. Your probably going to shimmy across the plank inch-by-
inch taking 10 times longer than you did when the plank was on the mat. It’s the
same plank, the same money but with the small change of where the plank is
placed, your focus changes.

When the plank is lying on the mat, the only thing your mind is focused on is
getting the $1,000. There are no penalties to failure. You’re not going to lose
anything; you’re not going to lose your life. Your mind starts focusing on when
you get to the other side and pick up the cash and what you are going to do with
that $1,000.

But when I put the plank on the top floor of a 10 story building the fear changes
your focus. All of the sudden, instead of focusing on the rewards of success
your focus is going to be on the fact that it's 10 stories high and what will happen
if you fall. Right there, you’re not even thinking of the $1,000; you're worried
about falling 10 stories.

I believe every fighter has fear, whether it begins as soon as he accepts a fight, at
the beginning of the fight, or when he’s hearing his arm pop. What is important
is what you do with the fear, and how you look at it. If your focus is weak and
fear takes over, you’re going to tap. If your focus is strong, you still feel fear but
you can control it and make it work for you.

Everyone says "Enson is so tough", so brave, a warrior", but people don't usually
look at the big picture. I did not become a warrior because of what I do in every
situation as it comes, but because of the way I live my life. And the way I live
my life creates the mindset I live with. The reason why those two options that
pop into my head in a critical situation are so different is because when I live my
life, whether it’s fighting, training, working, or just living everyday life, I’m
always giving all I got until the very end. I’ll try to negotiate a business deal
until I run out of options just like I'm willing to fight until I die. I will not ever
quit in a situation whether it be everyday life or fighting. Quitting is never an
option.

Because of this mindset I go into every fight with, in the interview I had with a
major fight magazine in Japan before going to fight in my first UFC, the
reporter, Mr. Mitsugi asked, "Have you heard of the word Yamatodamashii?"
My reply was, "Yamatodamashii? What is that?"

"It is the word that comes to mind when I see you fight and when I read your
interviews." Little did I know that at this moment, it was the birth of a word that
the Japanese people would refer to me until this day and possibly even after my
death.

Yamatodamashii... the spirit of the samurai.


A STRONG MAN feels no pain...
but A MAN OF YAMATODAMASHII feels pain but goes on and endures the
pain step by step.

A STRONG MAN has no fears...
but A MAN OF YAMATODAMASHII has fears but controls it and makes it
become an asset

A STRONG MAN controls the less fortunate and conquers the weak...
but A MAN OF YAMATODAMASHII helps the less fortunate and protects the
weak.

A STRONG MAN is feared and terrorizes others...
but A MAN OF YAMATODAMASHII is respected and gives inspiration to
others.



Chapter 28: Yamatodamashii T-shirt Debut

The funny thing is I didn't really understand how deep and strong the meaning of
Yamatodamashii was until many years after I was introduced to the word. By
chance I began using the word on my t-shirts and slowly throughout the years I
learned the true meaning of the word and how lucky I was to be labeled it.

After the reporter, Mr. Mitsugi, told me that I reminded him of Yamatodamashii
I practically forgot about it until I was contracted to fight in UFC 13 in Augusta,
Georgia. I would be representing the Japanese Shooto association so I wanted to
make a t-shirt with Japanese kanji on the front. I thought of "Ichiban" which
meant number one and "Nihon" which meant Japan. However, I didn't think
these kanji looked cool. And then "Yamatodamashii" came to mind. When I saw
the kanji to it, it was perfect! But nothing came out of it and I would have never
actually printed it out on a t-shirt. Fortunately, my brother Egan took the liberty
to just print a dozen t-shirts and bring them to my fight!



Chapter 29: Journey to Augusta, Georgia – UFC 13

In my career as a fighter I've always fought in the unlimited weight class, but for
the UFC I was offered a fight in the 200 lbs. class. Now for the first time I had
to cut weight, a total of 11 lbs. Since the fight was all the way in Georgia, near
the east coast of the States, I decided to break up the travel and instead of going
straight from Japan to Georgia. I stopped in Los Angeles for a few days. In Los
Angeles I trained with a good friend and fellow martial artist, Burton
Richardson.

He helped me with some strategy and touched up my striking. After getting a
few good days of training in, I headed off to Augusta. When I got to Georgia I
was still 2 lbs. overweight, and because I wasn't used to dropping weight, even 2
lbs. was a big task. Two days before the weighins I didn't eat or drink anything.
The day of the weight check I was still worried about my weight, so I just sat in
my room with my sweats on, under the covers, with the heater in my room set on
high. Then, two hours before weighin time, I went downstairs to the training
room with my brother and hit the pads and sparred for another 40 minutes.

Finally it was time to check my weight. I guess I was so worried about my
weight and wanted to be safe that I actually dropped too much weight. I was 2
lbs. under, and my official weighin was at 198 lbs. I was drained but very
relieved that I had made the weight. After weighins, there was no time to rest.
We went straight to the press interviews and picture taking. All the interviews
were revolved around Royce Alger, and I got the feeling that I was already
counted out, with everyone assuming Royce was going to be the champion. I
was in a four-man tournament that consisted of a judo expert, Christophe
Leninger; a Pancration fighter, Guy Mezger; NCAA wrestling champion, Royce
Alger; and myself, a Shooto fighter.

The alternate was a street fighter with a wrestling base named Tito Ortiz. At this
time in the MMA scene, the wrestlers were dominant so that is why Royce was a
heavy favorite. He was also Mark Coleman's boy and Coleman was the reigning
UFC heavyweight champion. Royce also had some Golden Gloves boxing
experience in his past, so he was a very well rounded fighter.

Everything leading up to the fight in the press conferences, interviews, and
commercials was Royce Alger this, Royce Alger that. In the pre-fight interview,
I was asked, "How does it feel to be going up against someone of Royce Alger's
caliber?" Yes Royce was a well-respected class A wrestler but this was MMA!
My answer was, "I hear Royce is one of Dan Gable's most ferocious wrestlers,
so I look forward to meeting his aggression head to head."

When we got in the arena, I was in awe at the set-up, and still had a hard time
comprehending that I was going to be fighting in the pioneer of MMA, the
UFC. Two fights before Royce and I were going to fight, we were called to be
on stand-by in a warm up area where there was a small mat area to warm up.
What was very awkward was across the way from my warm up area, I could see
over to Royce's warm up area.

I wasn't interested in seeing Royce before the fight so I tried not to look over
there, and just focused on my warm ups. However, even though I avoided eye
contact, what Mark Coleman was screaming to Royce was hard to block out. I
could hear Mark screaming like a mad man saying, "Fuck him up! Fuck him up!
Fuck him up so bad that he will have to show his own mother an I.D. to get into
his own house." Hearing this just pissed me off and fueled the fire in my heart
three times bigger than it was already burning. I thought to myself, "Okay, we'll
see about that...Yeah, try and come fuck me up. We'll see. We’ll see."

Our time was up and it was our time to go to war. I was called first to the
Octagon and when I stepped in, something was different. All my previous fights
before were in a ring surrounded by ropes. This was the first time I was in an
Octagon with no ropes, but instead, a chain link fence like a cage used to
barricade animals. The moment I stepped into the Octagon, I can't pinpoint what
it was, but I felt something change inside of me. I wondered to myself if this is
how a pit bull felt when he was thrown into a pit about to fight to the death.
What added to the animal-like atmosphere was the fact that this event, UFC 13,
was the last event in the United States that allowed the fighters to fight bare
knuckled.

When my name was announced to enter the ring, there were very few cheers
with a trickle of booing mixed in. When Royce's name was announced, he was
greeted with cheers like he was a national hero. I didn't give a shit because once
you step into the Octagon you're on your own. Just you. No amount of fans or
cheers was going to help you win the fight. When the gong sounded we were
like two predators ready to pounce at any given moment. I respected Royce for
his superior wrestling and decided to see how he would react if I came in with a
right feint.

To my surprise, he was a lot more intimidated with the striking than I thought he
would be. He shot in for a tackle the moment he saw my feint. Although I threw
the feint to lure him in to shoot for a tackle because his tackle was so quick and
covered so much ground, he almost got in deep enough to take me down. He
had one arm stretched out between my legs as I sprawled on him and flattened
him to the mat. While keeping control of him, I then swiveled my body over to
the side and locked him up in a crucifix. Instead of rolling over and putting him
on his back, I mistakenly decided to drop elbows onto his head.

However, because he was such a good wrestler, soon after the first elbow hit, he
dumped me to the mat and suddenly I found myself in the bottom position. We
were exchanging strikes back and forth, me from the bottom and him from the
top when I saw a chance. I swiveled my hips over and slapped on a deep arm
lock from the bottom. I locked my leg deep on his neck and set his elbow in
deep by my crotch. It was in deep and his arm was all mine. I then began
arching my back hard knowing his arm couldn't come close to matching the
power of my hips. As I was arching I could feel his arm slowly but steadily
beginning to straighten.

Then like a gift from the Gods, he made the most basic mistake... Trying to pull
his arm out, he lifted me off the mat. With him lifting me, the mat was no longer
restricting my hips from getting full extension so like a pendulum my body
swung into an inverted position. With the power of my hips and the momentum
from the swing, instead of popping the ligaments and feeling small pops in his
arm, there was one big pop. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. He instantly
fell face first to the mat tapping the mat in a panic with his legs thrashing like a
fish out of water. Although I knew he was done I kept the tension on his arm
keeping it fully extended.

Then Big John McCarthy stepped in and put a stop to the fight at 1 minute 36
seconds of the 1st round. His arm was broken and I proved the so-called experts
wrong. I had just beat Royce Alger and I didn't feel it in me to do much of a
celebration because I felt that only half my work was done. For this was a
tournament and I still had one more fight before my work was done. I also knew
in my heart that I could beat Royce so the feeling in me wasn't, "Oh my God I
won, I won!", instead it was like, "See everyone, I knew I could beat him."
After I was officially announced the victor I quickly returned to my locker room
to rest and get rejuvenated for the final. In the other semi-finals Guy Mentzer
beat Christophe Lenninger so the final was going to be Enson Inoue vs. Guy
Mezger.

As I got back to the locker room and lay on the mat getting a massage from
Egan, I felt a little trickle of blood running from my nose so I wanted to clear out
my nose of the blood by blowing my nose. Little did I know I was about to learn
a big lesson in fighting: You should never ever blow your nose for 24 hours after
a fight. As I blew my nose, instead of the air coming out of my nose, it filled up
in my face and I felt a weird feeling like the air was going to push out my eye
out of it's socket. So I stopped blowing, placed my hand on my eye to make sure
my eye wasn't going to pop out and turned to Egan and said, "Something’s
wrong with my eye, I feel like it's going to come out." As Egan slowly removed
my hand from my eye, he took one look at it and ran out of the room to get the
doctor. Now Egan was almost like a personal doctor and was very educated in
all aspects of the human body so it worried me to see him take such immediate
action.

Minutes later Egan returned with the doctor and the doctor took one look at me
and said, "You can't continue." I couldn't believe what I was hearing! My first
reaction was, "What!? Are you Joking!?" I felt like my whole world was going
crashing down. I then looked at the doctor and explained to him that I felt fine
and I could continue. I explained to him that I can still see clearly with my other
eye and there's just one more fight left.

He just looked at me with a blank stare and shook his head saying that it was
over for today. I wasn't about to just give up then, so I put all my pride aside and
began pleading with him. "Do you know how hard I trained and how many
sacrifices I made to be here? You can't tell me I can't fight. I've felt more pain
in training! I feel great. It's just my eye!" The doctor then explained to me that
the reason why my eye puffed up was because somewhere in the paper-thin plate
of bone in my face, there must be a crack in it.

The bone plate is there to keep all the air out from my face and with a crack in it
blowing your nose is not a good thing to do. He continued by explaining that the
crack could be anywhere and the danger is that the crack may be on my
cheekbone and if it's on my cheekbone and I take another solid shot there, it
could cave in my whole face. So to prove him wrong I began pushing on my
cheekbone telling him there is no pain so it can't be my cheekbone. He just
shook his head and told me that it was too swollen and that I wouldn't be able to
tell.

He then turned to Egan and said, "I'm pulling him out." My heart dropped and
my spirit exploded! Tears began pouring out of my eyes out of frustration of
being stopped short of the mission I had set in my heart. I felt like a samurai
being told to retreat to the hills because my sword was chipped. It wasn't like I
couldn't see or I was in severe pain so it was so hard for me to understand. The
alternate for this fight was Tito Ortiz so although my injury was unlucky for me,
it was the birth of one of the most prominent figures in MMA.

In my fight with Royce, we wore the newly printed "Yamatodamashii" t-shirts
into the ring and since we had some leftover shirts I brought them back to Japan
with me to just give them away. Some of my Japanese fighters shied away from
accepting the shirt saying they would be too embarrassed to wear them.

They were afraid that the kanji, Yamatodamashii, printed so big on the front of
the shirt might be mistaken for a Right Wing group. I didn't quite agree but then
because my fight against Royce went so well we began getting calls from fans
that wanted to purchase the shirts. The demand was so big that there weren't
enough leftover shirts so I decided to print out a bunch, which would be put on
sale. This was the birth of my "Yamatodamashii" t-shirt line.



Chapter 30: Pain Is Temporary, Pride Is Forever – Kawana

It was a day like any other day. We were waiting in front of the Yokohama
Arena to attend a K-1 event. As we were standing outside the arena we noticed
that to the left of us there was a big commotion consisting of a bunch of men all
in black suits. There were a whole lot of them making a barrier like they were
barricading the little scuffle that was going on in the middle of it. It was obvious
that it wasn't just an ordinary problem. This was definitely a Yakuza problem.

In Japan, people tend to ignore problems, especially Yakuza ones, acting as
though nothing were happening even though it was happening right in front of
their eyes. It was absolutely forbidden to get involved in any type of Yakuza
problem. Even if you were involved, the rule was to get uninvolved. I knew the
safest thing to do was to pretend like nothing was happening and look the other
way, but my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn't help but glance over to see
exactly what was happening.

When I looked I noticed that in the middle of the human barrier there were two
more men in black suits that were beating a guy in regular street clothes. This
guy didn't fight back but just took the hits, getting back up only to be hit and
dropped again.

Suddenly I realized that the guy being beaten up was a good friend of mine
named Kawana. My first reaction was, "Oh my God! It’s Kawana! I have to do
something!"

Kawana and I go way back. I met him in 1996 when he was still one of the
leaders of the notorious bike gang in Tokyo, the Kanto Rengo. The Kanto
Rengo is a feared motorcycle gang that you did not want to have problems with.
They were a strong gang numbering close to 1,000 members. Kawana was one
of the bosses, and like all gangsters and Yakuza, the Kanto Rengo loved
fighting.

I didn't even remember my first meeting with Kawana, but he remembers it clear
as day. We were supposedly introduced at a party by a Yakuza that we were
both friends with. Our second meeting was at a K-1 event in Tokyo where our
seats were just a row apart. As my friends and I were taking our seats, from the
row behind a dark scary looking gangster stood up, bowed, then stuck his hand
out to greet me. I didn't remember who he was, but to save the both of us any
embarrassment I went along with it and pretended to remember him, shaking his
hand saying, "Hissashiburi,” which meant "long time no see,” in Japanese.

We both then took our seats and began watching the K-1 fights. Then after
about the third fight I turned around to glance at Kawana and he was out, head
back, mouth wide open, fast asleep. I just couldn't resist the temptation, so I
turned around, pulled out the antenna on my cell phone, and stuck it up his
nostril. Before he opened his eyes I quickly turned around and pretended to be
watching the fights. Seconds later he began dozing off again, so I got ready to
do it again.

This time, as if he were waiting, as soon as the antenna touched his nose his eyes
opened and he caught me red-handed. He smiled, I smiled, and then we both
started laughing. Little did I know at the time that Kawana was one of the
famous top gangsters in Tokyo, and it was unheard of that someone would play a
prank like that on someone of his status.

Kawana loved me as a fighter and was entertained at the fact that I dared do
something like that to him. He took out his cell phone, we exchanged numbers,
and that was the start to a deep relationship that still goes on today.

Three years ago when I stuck my cell phone antenna up this Kawana's nose, little
did I realize that I would be faced with a situation where I had to make a
decision in seconds that could save his life. As I watched Kawana get hit
repeatedly, the only thing that ran through my mind over and over was, "Shit! I
got to do something! I can't just watch! "

Now I was absolutely NOT involved in whatever this problem was, and just
being friends with Kawana was not even near enough of a reason to make it my
business. As I was walking towards the closest opening of the barricade, like a
typhoon, all sorts of thoughts were racing through my head. "This is a Yakuza
problem. I shouldn't get involved. I might get killed. I might have to leave
Japan. I might get beaten, too…"

Even with all these thoughts telling me to not do anything, one thought
outweighed them all and kept me continuing on toward the barricade: "You
can't just watch this happen.”

I recalled Danny, and I knew in that instant that no pain the Yakuza would put
me through could be worse than the pain I'd been feeling for 21 years caused
because I didn't stand up for Danny. Wow! God was giving me a second
chance! I knew what I had to do, and something in me hoped that somehow
doing the right thing this time might justify the choices I made with Danny and
maybe, just maybe, even just a tad, it would ease the pain and guilt I’d felt for
not backing up Danny 21 years ago.

As soon as I got close to the barricade, two Yakuza came to stop me from
entering. I tried to walk around them only to be met by another Yakuza. The
third Yakuza that came to stop me happened to be someone I’d met a year before
through a mutual friend. His name was Bobby. He approached me a said,
“Enson, stay out of this. Don't get in involved with this sort of problem." So I
replied, "But Kawana's my friend!" only to be surprised by his cowardly reply: "I
know, he's my friend too, but don't get involved."

When I heard his reply, instead of second guessing my decision, I realized that
all men are not made the same. Bobby was a gutless man, a disgrace, a man
with NO honor. My disgust for Bobby made me push even harder to get to
where Kawana was being beaten. All the commotion that was caused at the
three Yakuza guys trying to hold me back got so big that the guy who was
beating Kawana, Mr. Kobayashi, looked over to us and said, "What's going on?
Who the fuck is that?"
Then Bobby said, "It's Enson Inoue, the fighter. The Shooto fighter." Mr.
Kobayashi didn't seem to care and would have gone on with the beating, but the
fact that someone was standing up against what the Yakuza was doing,
something unheard of in Japan, interested him a bit and he began to walk
towards me.

Shit! I thought, now I'm going to be beat up. Should I fight back? Why didn't
Kawana even block Mr. Kobayashi's punches? I was frozen with these thoughts
going through my head trying to look stern, confident, but respectful. My
physical outer appearance stood up tall and strong while inside I felt scared and
lost like a rabbit that was tossed in an alligator pen.

When Mr. Kobayashi got close enough to reach me, he stopped, looked into my
eyes and asked, "Who are you and what is Kawana to you?" Being as respectful
as possible I said, "My name is Enson Inoue and Kawana is my friend, and I
couldn't just watch a friend getting beat up like that." Without even blinking Mr.
Kobayashi said, "Even if he does wrong? Do you know what he did?"

As I told him I had no idea what the problem was, Kawana, bleeding from his
mouth, blurted out, "I didn't do it; I'll show you proof!!!" Mr. Kobayashi turned
towards Kawana and said, "You better, before next weekend or I'm going to find
you motherfucker."

He signaled to his guys to go and without saying a word, they began to leave.
He took five steps away from me, stopped, and then turned around. When I saw
him stop, I thought, "Oh shit, now what?"

Mr. Kobayashi walked up to me and asked, "What is your name?" I looked him
straight in the eye and answered, "Enson." He looked at me up and down the
said, "Hmmm," while slowly nodding his head up and down. He turned around
and walked into the arena as if nothing had happened.

Kawana, still bleeding from his mouth, looked at me, shook his head, and said,
"Don't ever do that again -- but thank you!" and gave me a hug. Later I found
out that the Yakuza group Kawana was having problems with was called The
Kobayashi Kai. They are a part of The Sumiyoshi Gumi, the second largest
Yakuza Family in Japan. It dawned on me that this was Mr. Kobayashi from the
Kobayashi Kai. The Oyabun, or Boss, of that family. The man himself! The
guy the Family is named after. Holly Shit!

I was also later informed that most people that interfered in a Yakuza problem
like that, especially one directly involving the Oyabun, pay with their life! I
believe that the reason Mr. Kobayashi spared me was that, as offended as he was
of my interference, is he respected the courage and loyalty I had for my friends.
That is probably why he asked my name before departing.

I knew what a close call this had been. I was aware that I got lucky when Mr.
Kobayashi decided to stop beating Kawana, and that he could have easily beat
me too. I was also aware that I almost jeopardized my existence in Japan, let
alone my existence here on earth.

Sometimes sucking up your pride is another form of honor. Just letting your
honor decide what you will do in pinch situations is not necessarily the best
thing. At times your pride and honor can shut down your mind and reactions, so
that only later do you realize there was a better solution to the problem.

What I learned with this problem is that a man of honor needs to also use his
head. Being stupid and reacting off ego is not necessarily being honorable.
Whether it's in the ring or on the streets, keeping a level head will help me move
better and ensure better decision-making. This time maybe I made the wrong
choice but got lucky. Now, reviewing the incident with a level head, it is very
unlikely that Mr. Kobayashi would have killed Kawana in front of so many
witnesses. But it was very likely that my interference might have angered Mr.
Kobayashi more and caused him to hurt Kawana more than he planned to, and
then move on to hurting me.

Maybe I did jump the gun and unnecessarily endangered myself. I just reacted
to what my heart told me without filtering the incident through my mind.
Keeping a level head in a fight and keeping a level head on the street work hand
in hand. It will help you make wiser decisions. I will never know if how I
reacted to help Kawana was right or wrong, but deep down, something tells me I
made the right choice.

This incident made me realize that the road of the Samurai and keeping the
honor of a true man is something very hard to do. Just being brave and fearless
doesn't necessarily equal honor. Being a crazy Kamikaze, putting your life on
the line for every little situation is not honorable. Using your head and finding
the best remedy is ideal, and if all that fails then let your heart, your pride and
your honor take over. Then if you have to put your life on the line, so be it.

I have learned from my experience of watching Danny be humiliated in the park
and from Kawana being beaten, that If it's for all the right reasons, I am willing
to die today, and if the day I die I can die as a man of honor who reacted in the
best way he saw fit, I will welcome it with open arms. You can take my life and
stop my body, but you can never ever take my honor and pride. My body may
be conquered but what's deep in my heart will never die.



 Chapter 31: Redemption – Joe Estes II

I still wasn't a legitimate heavyweight but I refused to go down in weight
because I wanted to fight the best in the world, no excuses. So although
sometimes I was going to be outweighed by 50 lbs., I made the decision to stay
in the unlimited weight class.

I guess my fights were making a good impact on the MMA scene in Japan
because to my surprise Japan's biggest, newest association, Pride, was interested
in having me fight in their ring. From what I heard the offered pay was
$10,000. All these years I was fighting for Shooto at about $4,000 a fight and
here I was getting an opportunity to fight in a major promotion that I would have
fought for free in and they were offering me $10 G's!!! Unbelievable! Moving
up in status by fighting in Pride and being paid more than twice as much... just
like having my cake and eating it too. Rickson Gracie fought in Pride 1 and here
I was getting an offer to fight in Pride 2.

However, Shooto was afraid to lose me. They stopped the offer from Pride and
instead, they offered me a fight in Shooto. Shooto was still small and didn't have
a big bank account so instead of bettering Pride's offer they offered me a World
Title match. Wow! Being the first ever World Shooto Heavyweight
Champion!? How could I turn that down? My opponent was going to be the
man who gave me my first defeat, Joe Estes. As if having the chance to etch my
name in the history books forever by becoming the first Shooto Heavyweight
Champion wasn't enough, they offered my a chance for redemption!

They made the title match proposal and only after I agreed to take the fight did
they tell me about the Pride offer. I was a little bit confused at why they would
use such a tactic because after all, my loyalty was with Shooto and for me,
money would never outweigh loyalty.

I first I fought Joe two years ago when I weighed in at a mere 202 lbs. But now
I was 211 lbs. and I felt as strong as a beast! Training was going great until I got
a call from Shooto where they informed me that Joe Estes just declined the fight
demanding more money. Shooto said that Joe was insisting that he beat me once
and would definitely beat me again so he should be paid more money than he
was offered.

I don't know how much Shooto offered Joe but he wanted more. Shooto also
didn't tell me how much Joe was demanding but they said that it was more than
they could afford! He claimed that he was a much better fighter than me and
that he should get paid much more than me. I was infuriated! Not only because
he was talking big but because I sacrificed an opportunity to fight in Pride for
this title match.

I was the #1 ranked heavyweight and Joe was #2 ranked so the only way this
could be a title match was if Joe and I fight. My chance to fight in Pride had
passed and now it didn't look like I was getting a title match anymore. I was
desperate. So I called Shooto and told them to do whatever they need to do to
get him here. Even if they had to pay him out of my fight money and that's just
what they did. I wanted the title really bad and now I also wanted Joe's neck.
Training was going perfectly and the image of breaking Joe's heart and wrapping
the championship belt around my waist helped me through the hard training
days. I felt like a finely tuned fighting machine and I was angry. I wanted Joe
so bad I could taste it!

On fight day I avoided any contact with Joe because I wanted to save it for the
ring. Before I knew it the gong sounded and the fight was on. I walked across
the ring straight to Joe to throw a big right but instead we clinched. I torqued my
body to the right and threw Joe to the ground. Joe felt really heavy because he
weighted a good 260 lbs., approximately 50 lbs. heavier than me. I then
immediately took his back and thought, "Yeah, now he's mine!" Seconds after
taking his back I saw a chance to lock up his arm so, like I did in my fight with
Ed De Kruijf, I pivoted over and set my body in place for an inverted arm bar. I
shouldn't have been so hasty and should have kept his back for a while and
soften him up with punches.

To my surprise, just at the right time he pulled his arm out and like a transition
from heaven to hell, I was suddenly on the bottom. "Damn! The same position
as the last fight" I thought, but this time I was determined to push the fight more
than I did in our first fight. So instead of laying flat on my back and playing
guard, I kept aggressing him, never giving him a chance to set himself. Because
of our prior fight I drilled many reversals and one of them that worked really
well for me in practice was the hip throw. Then at about a minute into the fight,
I saw an opening for a hip throw. I sat up into position and, just like I visualized
many times in my head, I executed a perfect throw that landed me in the mount.

Then, like I was releasing all the built up tension, I began to rain down a flurry
of punches. In the flurry I landed numerous punches that landed flush on his
face and I noticed that there was a noticeable swelling starting on his left
cheekbone. His cheekbone must have had a fracture because of the quickness
and the size of the swelling but I still went in for the kill. I felt like a predator
sensing injury in its prey and setting up for the kill. But before I could release
my fury, he began to tap. When I saw him tapping I felt a surge of anger rush
take over my spirit that take control of my body.

"What!? You're tapping!? You need to walk the walk after talking the talk!!!",
is what went through my mind at that moment. "You said you were a better
fighter enough to take fight money from my pocket and you're tapping
already!?!? Fuck this shit!!! Just one more...punch!" Then before I knew it, the
referee was tackling me and rolling me off of Joe. Then my brother and the rest
of my corner were in the ring dragging me to the furthest corner trying to calm
me down. It was a weird feeling because I felt possessed, and felt like I was
being prevented from finishing off my kill. As Egan was holding me in the
corner, Burton, Peter, and Ed, I looked over to Joe and he was still on his hands
and knees. "Get up! I didn't even get to put the real pain on you yet so get the
fuck up!!" I thought. The irritation of his weakness of not walking the walk sent
a rush of anger through my body again as I tried to break free so I could give
him a reason to stay down but my corner had a good hold on me so luckily I
couldn't get free. As I was trying to get free I thought, "You want to act hurt?
I'll give you a reason to act hurt!"

Everyone who sees that fight just sees the surface of it all and they see a crazy
guy who doesn't stop fighting when the referee says to stop but they don't see all
the inner frustration and they don't feel the adrenaline that flows through a
fighter that is willing to fight to the death. Now, I wonder if everything Shooto
was telling me about Joe was true? Maybe they were making Joe look like a bad
guy to pump up the fight and to save some money on cutting my fight money. A
few years after fighting Joe, I found out the true colors of Shooto. Their
dishonesty and deception makes me look back on the past and wonder what was
true and what was a lie just to steer me where they want me.

Well now I was the first ever World Heavyweight Shooto Champion, a title that
will stay with me forever. It was a surreal feeling when the belt was put around
my waist, something I will definitely cherish for the rest of my life!

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to all my fans for the animal-
like lack of control I displayed after the fight. Even after you all read this
explanation I know that it is still no excuse for carrying on the way I did. Last
but not least, I would like to send my apologies to the AMC academy and to Joe
Estes. I was out of line and one day when I can meet you in person I would like
to tell you "I'm sorry", face to face.



Chapter 32: Founded Yamatodamashii Ichizoku
It will be my Honor to Die for you someday

In 1998 I began to organize a group I call The Yamatodamashii Ichizoku. It is a
group of friends that, although they have no blood relation with me, I call
Family. Not the normal persons idea of family but one that has deep meaning
and is more important than life itself.

Family... what is the definition of Family? A group of people with the same
bloodline that live together? Well, yes in the dictionary of common people. But
to me, more than that, it is a group of people who rejoice together in the good
times and stand side by side in the bad; a group of people that care for each other
more than they care for themselves and are willing to die for each other on any
given day. I have a group of people from all over the world that I call Family or
in Japanese, "Ichizoku." They not only share the same beliefs that are written
above, but they also understand, live, and respect the Yamatodamashii way. The
way of the Samurai, which is doing what's right no matter how hard it is to do
and what the consequences are; to protect the weak and to help the less
fortunate. To have values of integrity, honesty, backed with courage and the
willingness to die for what you believe is right.

Many of my brothers have marked themselves with the tattoo “Ichizoku” ( 一
族 ) on the palms of our hands, the most painful place to get a tattoo. The reason
why I chose to have it on the palm of my hand is because I believe clenching
your fist is your first and last thing you could do in life. When a newborn baby
is born, not able to talk or walk, you can put your finger in the palm of his hand
and he will close it and squeeze. I’ve had many close people die of cancer and at
the end of their life, when they’ve lost all of their power, the power to speak or
the power to even open their eyes; I’ve seen a doctor put his fingers in the palm
of their hands and tell them “If you can hear me, squeeze…” So the Ichizoku
tattooed on the palms of our hands signifies that we will always hold and protect
our family.

The Yamatodamashii Ichizoku stands strong and will never be broken or
controlled by any one or group by fear. Not even the all feared Yakuza Families
in Japan can intimidate the Yamatodamashii Ichizoku. The Yamatodamashii
Ichizoku is one solid group that work as one family but consists of individuals
from other families under one flag, The Yamatodamashii Ichizoku flag. The
Yamatodamashii Ichizoku has brothers and sisters from around the world. In
Japan, Hawaii, Guam, The United Kingdom, Thailand, Canada, America
(Vancouver, WA, San Diego, CA), Guam, Saipan, Ireland, New Zealand, and
Australia. Yamatodamashii Ichizoku members include Yakuza's from many
different families, students, lawyers, real estate agents, fighters, soldiers,
teachers, doctors, police officers, etc., people from all walks of life. However,
when we meet, all that goes out the window, we stand as one no matter where
we come from.

In the Yakuza world you have the Yamaguchi Gumi, and the Sumiyoshi Gumi.
Gumi means group, a group of people. You have the Kobayashi Kai. Kai also
means group. The reason why I call my group, Yamatodamashii Ichizoku is
because we’re a family; we’ll do whatever we need to do, to help each other out.

Currently I am single and my choices in life do not lead me to getting married
and having a family. I love kids and always dreamed of having my own but
children may not be in my destiny. I'm beginning to think that God has other
plans for me. My life is an adventure and in any given time I may have to walk
a fine line between life and death. There are things that I spontaneously do that I
wouldn't do if I had a wife and children depending on me. If I lived a normal
life, got married and had children the only people I would be willing to risk my
life for would be my direct blood like my mother, father, and my brother and my
wife and kids.

However, without a wife and kids, I can die for my Ichizoku and any other
human being that may need help. I imagine a house on fire and children trapped
on the second floor of the house. The house is still accessible but not sturdy. If
there were any possibility to save the children I would try even if I might die
trying. I don't think I could live knowing that I watched them die and if I tried, I
may have been able to save them. I in no way want to be a hero nor do I want
any medals. I just want to be true to myself and do what I feel in my heart.

My Yamatodamashii Ichizoku has been growing slowly for the last 15 years and
is currently 200+ and growing. Many people have messaged me saying they
want to become a part of my Yamatodamashii Ichizoku. I've been asked
questions like how do I become a part of the Family? What do I need to do to be
accepted into the Family? The truth is, there are no rules or things you can do to
become a part of the Yamatodamashii Ichizoku. It's a feeling in my heart and a
feeling in the other Yamatodamashii Ichizoku member’s hearts that makes
someone a part of the Family. If I trust you with my life, feel that I can die for
you and any moment, and the feeling is mutual, you are a part of my
Yamatodamashii Ichizoku Family. Meeting me and the other members, hanging
out enough to get to know each other is the only way to be a part of the
Yamatodamashii Ichizoku... the rest is all true feelings in the heart.

“Thou who shed his Blood with me…
Shall always be my Brother…
And thou who has become my Brother…
I will bleed for even if it meant bleeding to death.”


Chapter 33: War… Leaving it ALL in the ring – Frank Shamrock

I was now the Shooto World Heavyweight Champion and my next fight was
with Shooto's rival, Pancrase's King of Pancrase, Frank Shamrock. Shooto and
Pancrase had a stupid grudge against each other, which gave this fight a lot of
extra hype. I didn't give a shit about the Shooto/Pancrase bullshit, Frank was
just a step on my way to being the best fighter in the world. Winning the Shooto
World title was awesome but to me it was just one of my goals.

Another goal to me was getting the Ultimate Fighting Championships (UFC)
belt. What everyone didn't know is that Frank and I had the same contract from
the UFC that the winner of our fight gets to fight Kevin Jackson at the UFC
Japan for the UFC belt. I had so much riding on this fight. Shooto vs. Pancrase,
victory at Vale Tudo Japan, and now a UFC title shot! I knew Frank was one of
the best in the world so as soon as the fight was signed I went into very intense
training.

I did three sessions a day and a total of anywhere from 6 to 9 hours of training
daily. Two hours in the morning, two hours in the afternoon, and two to four
hours at night for sparring. I was also living in my car, going back to my
apartment only about 6 times a month just to wash clothes. I lived in the
outskirts of Tokyo in a city called Omiya so time spent driving back to my
apartment I turned into sleep time. I was training so hard; sleep was something I
needed so much. I was still showering using the electronic pump and 50-gallon
tank of water in my van. The vans adjustable seats that turned into somewhere to
sleep meant that all I really had to find was a secluded park to park at.

I got in mode and everything I did revolved around this fight. Train...eat...and
sleep, that's all I did. I gave up my social life, like going to parties and clubs, but
only when I had energy I would hook up with a hottie I was keeping in touch
with and we would hook up for the night...no strings attached. Even the girls, no
matter how rich or high class they were, would sleep in the car with me. Back
then I didn't think anything of it but now I would be embarrassed to date a hot
hostess from a high class hostess club and have her sleep in my car. I guess back
then nothing mattered to me but training and everything else had to adapt to my
training.

A typical day would be like this. I would park my car at a park near the weight
training gym. I'd wake up and go for a 50-minute run followed by sprints at the
park. After my sprints I would head to the weight room and lift weights. After I
lifted, I would pick up something to eat and drive to Aoyama University to make
the wrestling team's practice. I usually would get there early and get some sleep
in the car until training time and allow my food to digest.

I would set my alarm to wake up to go to wrestling practice and after wrestling
practice drive straight to Watanabe gym to train my kickboxing. I would again
get to my next training destination early, get a bite to eat, and then take a short
nap in the car until training time. When I was done with Watanabe gym's
training I would head straight to Purebred Omiya to barely make it in time to
catch the sparring with all the other pro fighters. When the sparring was done I
would get dinner then drive to wherever the next days morning training was and
sleep in the car, so I could wake up at my next training spot. Every day varied
and the training location varied according to my opponent for my next fight.
Sundays were usually my off days where I would just take a long slow one-hour
jog.

Training for Frank's fight went great. I had two big sparring partners from New
Zealand, Peter Leaitua and Anthony Netzler, and from my gym in Guam,
Melchor Manibusan. My sparring was hard-core. So hard that I couldn't keep
sparring partners for more than two fights. We would do MMA full sparring
about three times a week and we would go about 85-90 percent intensity.
Anthony and Peter were tough as nails and they were always there for me on
call, any time of the night. Some days after training was over for the day I
would be laying in bed trying to sleep when all of a sudden I couldn't subside the
uneasiness of the sparring we had that day. I felt I needed a few more hard
rounds so I would call Peter and Anthony and have them suit up and meet me at
the gym for a few more rounds. Sometimes these last minute extra sparring
sessions would be at three in the morning. We would meet up at my gym, beat
the shit out of each other then I would express my appreciation and be on my
way. Like a typhoon coming in the empty silent gym...going crazy for three or
four rounds...then being done in about 30 minutes leaving the gym silent again
as if nothing happened.

I was so ready for Frank. I was probably in the best shape of my life and
confident that I would come out hard and taking it to Frank until he folded. The
year before I had lost to Igor Zinoviev within a minute and I was determined to
never ever let that happen again. I didn't plan to beat Frank on points but instead
planned to go out like a pit bull and try to fuck him up before he fucked me up.
Kill or be killed!!!

Now it was the day of the fight and I was lean and ripped at 93 kilograms. I was
confident like a pit bull taking on a Poodle, ready to take on anyone. I was ready
for war, ready for anything that would come my way. Ready to absorb and fight
through any type of pain and even ready to face the almighty death itself. I was
planning to go in like a beast, give Frank more than he could take, break his
spirit, take his soul, then go and take the UFC belt from Kevin Jackson.

Minutes before I made my ring entrance everything was perfect. I had
confidence enough to feel I could break the devil himself, the shape and stamina
to go 110 percent all 3 of the 8 minute rounds, and enough of a fan base to make
me feel like I'm on my home turf. I felt like a beast, unstoppable and when I saw
Frank in the ring staring at me like he wanted to fuck me up...instead of feeling
fear or questioning my confidence, I thought, “I hope you're ready to walk the
walk because I'm going to make you feel terror and a ferocity that you've never
felt before.”

Then the bell sounded and we were let loose. To my surprise Frank was tougher
than nails and I realized right away that I was in for a war. However, I didn't
have a problem with that because a war is what I prepared for and I wouldn't
have accepted anything less. The first round he was basically in my guard and
we both didn't do much. I kicked him in the face from my back and he caught
me with a few solid punches from my guard. Nothing close to causing damage to
affect us in the next round and nothing near to ending the fight. However, I told
myself that I must take it to him harder in the second round.

As soon as the bell sounded I came out punching only to find both of us tied up
against the ropes, pummeling each other and jockeying for an advantageous tie
up. Suddenly Frank tried a leg trip on me and his balance wavered. I was lucky
enough to have been in better balance to take him down and take the top
position. Rather than me creating the position, I just sort of took advantage of
Frank's mistake. Then as if the angels were watching over me I not only took
the top, I took one of the most advantageous positions in MMA, the mount
position.

When I fell into the mount, I thought it was over. "Okay, I thought, it's just a
matter of time before you break him, just take your time". I got the mount
within one minute into the second round so I knew I had at least six more
minutes to work. Six minutes may seem short to you but believe me when
you're being mounted, six minutes can seem like eternity. However, I was the
one on top and I was ready to finish the fight by pummeling Frank into
submission. Then to my surprise Frank's defense was a type of defense that I'd
ever seen before. Up until that moment the mount was a 90 percent aggressive
position that was near impossible to defend.

But Frank's defense was impeccable. He wrapped his arms around my back and
pulled himself against my chest and because I couldn't elbow his head I couldn't
get any clean punches that would hurt him. There was a point in the fight that
was interesting. It was when I was mounted on him that our eyes met and we
both froze for a couple of seconds. Although the moment was very intense, just
the way we froze when our eyes met made us both laugh. Then we went back
into mode to finish each other off. I was getting frustrated and heard the
timekeeper yell out "3 minutes remaining" and I didn't want this to go to a
decision. I wanted to knockout Frank even though it increased the risk of getting
knocked out myself.

So I decided to make more space hoping that when he tried to get out I could get
off some good punches and maybe end the fight. But Frank was explosive and
when I posted my leg up he got out. Well, I lost the mount but wasn't too
worried because I was also fine with throwing toe to toe with Frank. So then we
went crazy. Swinging toe to toe literally trying to kill each other. We were both
warriors and we threw blow for blow which even until today, after a decade, this
is still one of the best flurries MMA has ever seen. I knew the risk of standing
toe to toe but I felt that I was going to hit him first before he got me.

Unfortunately for me he caught me first. He got me with a solid knee to my
face, then a right cross, then a punishing knee again to send me down to the
canvas. Out of all the excitement and adrenalin Frank pounced on me to get in a
few extra shots to finish me off. My brother Egan saw that and instinctively ran
into the ring to stop Frank from continuing and that's when I was disqualified. I
felt the knee and the right cross but had absolutely no account of the last knee.
DQ? Not in my eyes. In my heart I believe Frank earned a KO. I also hold
nothing against him for trying to hit me when I was down because the fight was
so heated that it is hard to stop yourself instantly.

Also in his book I saw that he stated that I was on steroids for our fight. I
wondered why he said that because we never got tested so I conclude that he was
probably on it or why else would he think I was? I also take that statement as a
prop instead of an insult for I must have felt that strong and in shape for him to
think that. I trained for that fight with the will to die, and it must have paid off,
for Frank to feel I was on something for our fight!

Although I lost, my fight with Frank changed me as a fighter. He brought out
the best in me and he taught me that standing toe to toe isn't scary...in fact, it was
a rush!!! I fought to the end and I gave 110 percent. To me that's what is
important. Winning and losing is beyond the fighter's control so why worry
about it and put extra pressure on yourself? What is in the fighters control is
fighting to the end and not giving up because you anticipate the end. Let the end
come and trust that there are doctors, referees, and your corner men to stop the
fight if it gets too dangerous. Giving 110 percent is also the choice of the
fighter. But winning or losing... It's like driving to a crowded shopping mall
and hoping to find a good parking space. Timing, luck, and chance are things
you can't control and those are what will get you a Win or a Loss, or a good
parking space.

My fight with Frank taught me a lot. It helped shape the warrior that I am today
and if I could rewind the hands of time I wouldn't do anything different. Losing
a fight is not necessarily bad. In every situation there is good and bad to it, and
you can choose which to dwell on. Winning or losing a fight will not decide
whether the fight was good or bad for you. Just because you win a fight and
your hand is raised in the end, that doesn't necessarily mean it is a good thing. It
is what you do with the win or the loss that will determine whether it was good
or bad.

You can win a fight but if you don't learn anything from it, then it isn't good.
You can also win a fight and get overconfident and it will be a bad thing. On the
other hand, you can lose a fight but learn a lot to make you a better fighter and in
the long run it will be just like a win. I lost to Frank because he was the better
fighter that night. I didn't hang my head or sulk over the loss. Instead I focused
on the strength the fight gave me and learned from the things in that fight that I
could have done better. Frank kicked my ass, but I have no bad feelings. He
helped me learn and grow as a warrior and I feel I have to thank him for that. He
also gave me a war that brought out the best in the both of us and gave the world
one of the best fights ever that will never be forgotten.

You are never really beat until you give up in your heart. So with that in mind,
shit, I'm still undefeated!



Chapter 34: Nothing is Impossible – Randy Couture

After losing to Frank Shamrock, I gathered myself and began training soon after.
I decided I wanted to train harder and come back strong. Shooto was having a
hard time finding an affordable, famous, heavyweight fighter that would be
qualified to fight for the title so I just waited and kept on training. I had no fight
planned yet, but I had my heart set on fighting another big name as big or bigger
than Frank. After beating me, Frank went on to fight Kevin Jackson and capture
the UFC Middleweight title. So finding a name bigger or as big as Frank was
very difficult for Shooto. Shooto's funds were limited and the bigger the name
the higher the cost.

I was slowly but steadily putting on weight and feeling a lot stronger. When I
fought Frank I was 93 kilos and in six months I had put on 3 more kilos of solid
muscle. I was now 96 kilos and itching to fight, so I kept a strict regimen and
waited. Then finally Shooto called! They couldn't find an opponent for a small
event like Shooto so instead they asked me if I could fight in the bigger Vale
Tudo Japan. I asked who they had in mind for my opponent and they said Dan
"The Beast" Severn. Wow! The Beast!!! I was excited and eagerly accepted.
Dan Severn was a UFC champion and was named the Beast because he attacked
his opponent relentlessly with no mercy. I began to feel intrigued about how the
aggression of the Beast would feel, and if I was man enough to endure it or
maybe even beat him.

As I was focused and setting my sights on Severn, I got a sudden call from
Shooto. Dan Severn had another commitment that he couldn't get out of and so
he couldn't make the fight. I was bummed and asked if they had any one else for
me to fight and they replied yes. The name they put out in front of me was the
infamous Randy Couture. My first reaction was to be blown away because
Randy was "The Man," an undisputed UFC champion with an undefeated
record. Not only was he undefeated, but he dismantled the seemingly
unstoppable Vitor Belfort by knockout and captured the belt from a devastating
kick boxer, Maurice Smith. Okay, after the initial shock, the question was now,
am I ready for the likes of a Randy Couture?

Couture was the undefeated, undisputed world champion at the top of his game.
Then something clicked in me. The idea of putting myself on the line, in a
seemingly impossible challenge began to intrigue me a bit. I thought, in the
books, I'm not suppose to stand a chance against Randy and it would be a pretty
accurate assessment to say I would get my ass kicked. So, what have I got to
lose? I'm supposed to lose and the experience I would get by fighting "the best"
would be priceless. So I picked up the phone the next day and accepted the
fight.

It was still about four months away but I got into gear and began training hard
for this seemingly "impossible feat". When this fight was finally announced, the
Japanese press went crazy. The reason why this fight got so much press was
because Randy was the UFC champion and I was the World Shooto
Heavyweight Champion and the Japanese hope. I was flooded with television,
magazine, and newspaper interviews. I was getting an interview practically
every day and sometimes even two a day.

My training regimen was six to eight hours a day (two hours in the morning, two
hours in the afternoon, and two to four hours at night) so juggling interviews was
very difficult. It was frustrating because sometimes the interviews would
inconvenience the training, but I knew this came with the job, so I did my best to
cooperate. As if going out of my way wasn't frustrating enough, the negativity
of the questioning was sometimes hard to bear. The interviews included
questions like, "Are you ready for someone like Randy?", Are you going to be
alright?", "How do you plan to fight someone of Randy's caliber?". I got the
feeling that they didn't think I had a chance to beat Randy and they were worried
for my safety.

Now I am a fighter, not a wimp, so instead of the interviews wavering my
confidence, it fired me up instead. In fact, in one interview, I got a little bit too
irritated and I said, "Randy isn't superhuman. He's a human like me and
everyone else, two arms and two legs. If I get him in an arm bar, his arm will
snap like everyone else's and if I sink in a choke, he'll sleep like a baby like
everyone else.” Even my friends and training partners seemed worried, but this
just made me more determined to not only climb the so-called un-climbable
mountain but also climb it like a fierce lion; confident and determined to get to,
and devour the lamb at the summit. I had more fire than ever and trained harder
than I ever trained before.

Then the unexpected happened. One day when I was doing my weight training
circuit I felt my shoulder pop. When it popped I felt the power leave my arm but
was determined to work through it and finished the grueling 40-minute full body
regimen. It was just a month out from fight day so I couldn't take time off. I
knew I had to train through the injury so everyday before training I would tape
my shoulder up so much that it felt like a cast. At first it was hard to move
normally so we only did the drills that I was able to do. Then day-by-day as the
pain in my shoulder subsided we would tape it less and less, until it didn't restrict
my movement at all.

Going into any fight there are odds and the odds for my fight with Randy were
definitely very much in favor of Randy. However odds didn't matter to me.
Even if Randy was favored 99-1 it was just numbers to me. So what if Randy
has 99 roads to take to win the fight and I have only one? All I have to do is
make sure we walk that 1 road to my favor. If there was 0 percent chance for me
to win, now that's a different story. All I had to do was guide the fight to go on
that one road of mine before we walked one of Randy's 99.

So I decided that I would go out hard at Randy like a pit bull going for the kill. I
wanted to start off the attack first to set the pace of the bout. So after talking it
over with Egan, we decided to come out instantly with a hard kick to the inside
of his front leg. Also, because Shooto had no rule on how much tape we could
put on our legs, we decided to put one whole roll of white medical tape on each
leg to make my kicks heavier, therefore more painful. So Egan began taping my
legs and when we were done it felt like I had casts on each leg without hindering
my movement at all.

Then to test it out I tried kicking some of my corner men and one of them
replied, "Holy shit... feels like a cast!" After hearing that I felt mission
accomplished. I also heard that Randy was coming in at about 230 lbs. to my
210 lbs. so I decided to try to put on more weight. This was the biggest fight of
my life and I was training really hard, so I was having a hard time keeping
weight. So in order not to drop too much weight I began forcing myself to eat
more and I was able to get myself up to 215 lbs.

The day of the fight I felt great and was getting more and more irritated with the
behavior of the press. They didn't even give me a chance and it seems as though
they already had their minds made up that I was going to get my ass kicked. At
the weighins when I finally saw Randy in person for the first time, he was much
bigger than I thought. He was ripped and in great shape and calm just like he
was about to take a stroll in the park. He was confident and very relaxed and all
I wanted to do was hurry and get it on. The waiting was killing me.

This fight was perfect. They announced the fight as two World Champions
squaring off. Randy as the Ultimate Fighting Championships (UFC) World
Champion and me as the World Shooto Heavyweight Champion. For my ring
entrance I came in to Fiji's "Chant of the Islands", a slow but confident sounding
song. As I entered the ring, I looked over at Randy standing on the other side.
All I could think about was that first kick I was going to throw to the inside of
his leg. The mental image I had repeated over and over in my head was his leg
breaking with that first kick.

Finally the gong sounded and off I went. Walking swiftly across the ring, I met
Randy on his side and stepped in heavy, putting everything into the kick. As
expected, it landed smack right in the inside of his thigh. To my surprise he took
it in stride, grabbed a hold of my leg, and took me down. All I had in my mind
was to attack. I not only wanted to beat him, I wanted to submit him. Suddenly
before I knew it I had him in a triangle. However, before I had a chance to set
the triangle deep, I decided to hit him with a couple of lefts to soften him up. A
big mistake, I made was underestimating Randy's strength.

To my surprise, Randy effortlessly stood up and lifted me off the mat causing
me to lose my lock on the triangle I had on him. He was then standing over me
looking down on me, looking for an opening to kick or attack me. I was on my
back and 99 percent of the time; the person on his back is in a defensive
position. But not me. I was determined to be the aggressor no matter what
position I was in so I came off with a very hard kick from the bottom. I aimed
for his head but only reached up to his lats. The kick landed flush and hard that
it made a loud smacking sound. This kick landed so hard it practically threw
Randy off balance and more importantly it set the whole pace of the fight. I
kicked him a few more times and he came off with a nice punch that landed but
the overall movement was in my control.

Although I was definitely the aggressor, being on my back I wasn't able to put as
much pressure as I wanted to so decided to take a chance and get back to my feet
so I could stand toe to toe and throw down with him. So I waited for the right
moment. When I thought the time was right I stood up only to find Randy ready
and waiting.

He planted a nice straight right smack on my chin, which I felt, but was able to
continue and get to my feet. We then flurried, stood blow for blow when he
made the first initiative to tie up. He tried to shuck my head down a few times
but all my wrestling practice had me ready. I wanted to avoid the dirty boxing
skills he displayed in his win against Vitor Belfort so I got close to him and
actually got lucky enough to tie him up, shucking his left arm high up and
rendering it useless. I felt safe and waited for his next move to break away so I
could begin throwing combinations again but to my surprise, he had other ideas.

My strength was my ground fighting and Randy's strength was to stay on his feet
to wear me out. Then when Randy caught me off guard and took me down, he
took me to my domain. When he took me down I was relaxed, so I quickly put
him in my guard and felt him grab the back of my head with his right arm,
preparing to strike with his left. If he did begin to strike with his other hand this
would make his arm around my head vulnerable to be arm-barred but I was sure
Randy was aware of that. Was this a set up or was he unaware of what he was
doing???

So instead of slapping the arm-bar on right away, I swiveled my hips over,
climbed my legs up to his shoulder, stopping in the middle waiting for his next
move. If he released his left arm to strike I was already set in position to slap on
an arm bar in a split second. He let go to strike, so I passed my leg over his face
and set the arm bar in deep! I had it in deep and began extending it and he did
what his body instinctively told him to do... pull his arm out. However, I had his
arm in so deep and locked in so tight, his arm was mine and I wasn't about to
give it back unless he gave up or I broke it in two. As he tried to pull his arm
out, I fell on his arm belly down and could hear his tendons popping as I arched
my hips. I counted a total of four pops altogether and I was wondering if I was
able to break his arm completely from my inverted position. Then, like I was
dreaming, I felt tapping on my legs. It took a second to realize that I had just
beaten the Undefeated UFC World Champion, Randy Couture.

As I planned before, I instructed one of my boys that if I win, he would run to
my car, get my boy Shooto and bring him into the ring. NK Hall has never
before had a dog enter their ring and I knew I would get a lot of shit for doing
this. The year before when I brought Shooto in the Korakuen Hall's ring there
was a big problem. However, through all my hard training and suffering, Shooto
was the one that was with me through it all and I wanted Shooto in the ring with
me to celebrate this victory. When Shooto came into the ring, I pulled him over
to me, gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear, "We did it!"

Those that didn't believe in me must have been in shock. Instead of jumping for
joy, I stood up calmly, closed my eyes, raised my hands in the air and thought to
myself, "See. It wasn't impossible to beat Randy!" The irritation of all the
people who counted me out before the fight was built up ready to explode. It
was still bothering me, so when I walked over to my corner, I told Egan that I
wanted to get on the mike and tell all the doubters, fuck you!

Now Egan is an angel, and I'm like the devil, so of course Egan's reply was,
"Nah, don't do that." However, all the irritation was built up over the months
before the fight so much that I just ignored Egan's reply and asked for the mike.
When I finally got the mike, I waited for everyone to settle and the music to
subside before I was able to finally express my feelings to the public. I planned
to say, "To all of you who thought I was going to lose, in your face!" Through
all the excitement, "To all of you who thought I was going to lose, Fuck You!"
came flowing out. Then I spiked the microphone on the ring and without saying
another word, exited the ring and returned to my locker room.

My victory against Randy was a big turning point in my career. Many good
things happened to me. I was given my Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu black belt from John
Lewis, got invited to Abu Dhabi's world submission event to fight the Super
Fight against Mario Sperry, and last but not least, it opened the door to fight in
Pride. In the post fight interviews the press asked me how it felt to beat a name
like Randy Couture and I answered... "Awesome!" Then they asked me if I now
considered myself the best in the world after beating Randy and I replied, "No. I
was just lucky to have caught Randy in a mistake. If we were to fight again
tomorrow there is a good chance that Randy might beat me. Tonight was just
Enson Inoue's night."

Wow! I had just beat Randy Couture and it was an unreal feeling to be even
considered by some, to be one of the best fighters in the world.

Note: After beating Randy John Lewis/Penederious gave Egan and I our black
belts. Egan for winning the worlds in brown and me for beating Randy Couture
with BJJ.



Chapter 35: Taste of BJJ – 1999 Super fight with Mario Sperry, Abu Dhabi

My win over Randy also opened a door for me to get the opportunity to fight in
Abu Dhabi! I got a call from my brother and he told me that the Prince of Abu
Dhabi was inviting me to participate in the Abu Dhabi World Submission
Championships to fight in a Super Fight with the prior years champion, Mario
Sperry. The fight money was $15,000 to show and another $15,000 to the
winner of the fight. I excitedly accepted and I was on my way to a place beyond
my imagination. When we got there we were checked in to a very plush hotel
and we were all taken to the grounds where the event was to be held. It was
breathtaking. The gymnasium had an unreal weight facility, with a big mat
room for grappling. Horse racing track, bowling alleys, and a big arena. When
we finished touring the facility we all went to the arena where the weighins were
to take place.

As I was waiting to be weighed in I looked around the arena and was amazed at
what I saw. All in one arena there were some of the best grapplers in the world.
Renzo and Ryan Gracie, Saulo, Amari Bittechi, Mark Kerr, Ricco Rodriguez, the
Machado brothers, John Lewis, Ricardo, Rumina, Uno, Sakurai, Royler, and the
list goes on. For me it was an honor just to be in the same room with all these
elite names let alone be the one fighting in the super fight against the likes of
Mario Sperry. In grappling, Mario is definitely a class above me and honestly,
grappling wise, I don't think I belong in the super fight with Mario. I guess my
win over Randy had a really big impact on the Prince and the fighting world.

Nevertheless, I was here and I did have a chance. If Mario made one little
mistake I knew I trained hard enough that I would pounce all over his mistake.
My match with Mario was the finale, the showcase fight called the "Super-
fight". It was awesome watching all of the amazing dream like match ups, then
came along Egan vs. Renzo Gracie. It was a very close technical match with
Egan squeaking out on top to out point Renzo and get the victory.

Everyone was applauding the match, when out of the blue Renzo's younger
brother Ryan Gracie (may he rest in peace), was all riled up and began glaring at
my brother like he was going to attack him. So I stood right by Egan's side and
watched Ryan carefully. Like Egan and myself, the two brothers had two very
different reputations. Renzo, like Egan, was considered the cooler, more level
headed brother while Ryan, like me, had the crazy, uncontrollable, unpredictable
reputation. Fortunately everything ended up as just a heated stare down which
left the arena buzzing anticipating some kind of drama. Then when we returned
to the room, the promoter Guy Nevins called our room and wanted to speak with
us. When we met, he had a serious look on his face and said, "Here in Abu
Dhabi if you fight, it doesn't matter who is right or wrong, you both go to jail.
So if Ryan decides to hit you, by all means, don't hit him back.

I looked at Guy in astonishment and said, "If Ryan comes to fight and hits me,
there is no way I'm not going to defend myself and I will fight back if I have to.
So if you don't go talk to Ryan and settle everything you are going to lose your
Super-fight. I'm not going to let someone attack me and not fight back,
especially someone as dangerous as Ryan, and I don't want to go to jail here so
maybe it is a good idea for me to jump on the next plane out of here."

Guy's face then tightened up and he said that he would talk to Renzo and take
care of everything. Thirty minutes later we heard a knock at the door and it was
Renzo and Ryan. We both apologized to each other for the commotion and we
both decided to bury it. Renzo was always one of the nicest guys in the fighting
world, while Ryan was like a time bomb capable of exploding at any second.
Since the incident I've ran into Ryan in Japan and we always greeted each other
with a friendly smile and a lot of respect. However, a few years ago Ryan met
an untimely shocking death. It was a sad day and a definite loss to the MMA
world. May Ryan rest in peace.

Before I knew it, it was the day of the Super-fight. I was ready and expecting
anything to happen and began to focus and started warming up in a back room,
when Egan came in to the room with an excited look on his face. He had a t-
shirt in his hand and he told me that the owner of this company will pay me
$5,000 dollars if I wore the shirt into the Super-fight. $5,000? What? Just to
wear the shirt??? I thought, hell yeah, and snatched the t-shirt from Egan and
put it on.

When my name was finally called to enter the mat area the atmosphere in the
arena was nothing like I ever felt before. There were guys in turbans beating
tambourines and drums and chanting and dancing throughout the whole arena. It
was a weird sensation and such a great experience that even to this day I feel I
was lucky to have it.

The Super-fight was one round of 20 minutes with the first 10 minutes fought
with no points. I didn't care and wasn't about to stall for the first 10 minutes so I
came out from the opening bell and took the fight to Mario. Faking a shot,
pushing his head, pulling his head down, while Mario played a really smart safe
game wrestling more defensively. I was getting a bit frustrated, so when we
finally tied up I hastily tried to suplex him, underestimating his size. Mario was
about 245 pounds and much too heavy to force a throw.

So I landed on my own back with Mario falling right on top of me. Then Mario
began to play a boring but very smart game. Passing my guard getting points
then letting me wrap up his leg again on purpose only to slide his leg out again,
passing again and getting more points. He did that over and over again in the 20
minutes and racked up a double-digit point lead. He laid on me and stayed tight
not allowing me any space for me to even begin to create and go on the
offensive.

In the middle of the fight, I was being totally controlled so I began to talk to
Mario and said to him, "You are so much better than me that if you don't move
and try to submit me, I won't be able to move and the fight will stay just like this
until the end." To my surprise Mario replied, "Yes, I know, but you are too
dangerous my friend, you are too dangerous."

His reply was very frustrating, but in a way it also very flattering for someone as
good as Mario to consider me dangerous. Time was ticking and Mario wasn't
taking any chances. At the 15-minute mark I tried to get him to be more
aggressive by taunting him with gestures. As Mario was holding me tight in side
control I purposely looked over to Carlson Gracie then with my right hand I
made the gesture as if I were jacking myself off in the middle of the fight.
However, Mario played it smart, kept his cool, and stayed close to me not
allowing me any space to create any openings.

I then began to worry about the time. I positioned myself so I could make eye
contact with Egan and pointed to my wrist indicating I wanted to know how
much time was left. Then I heard Egan scream that there was only 5 minutes left
so I knew I had to get going. I gathered all my energy up and exploded. With
absolutely no technique involved with just brute strength, I incredibly managed
to throw Mario off me from the side control he had.

I got up, backed up to where Egan was to confirm the remaining time, and
because there was only a little more than three minutes left I went into
desperation mode. I tried everything I could and at one point I even dove for
Mario's legs like I was a baseball player stealing second base. Then in the last
seconds, I managed to get close by getting a firm hold on one of Mario's legs,
only to be countered and end up on the bottom again. I was outclassed and lost
the match by a big point margin.

Then as we were walking off the mat Egan looked at me, smiled, and said,
"Welcome to the world of Jiu-Jitsu." I chuckled, shook my head, and replied,
"Well, in that case, I never want to enter a Jiu-Jitsu match ever."...and I never
did.



Chapter 36: Guam – My 2nd Home

Although I love Japan, deep down in my heart I am an island boy. I missed
Hawaii, but most of all I missed the year round warm weather and the beaches.
Traveling to Hawaii was always a chore because of its long plane ride and time
difference which made jet lag a problem. However, little did I know there was a
small chain of Micronesian Islands that were only three hours away and
practically in the same time zone. One of my Japanese fighters got an offer to
fight in Guam and I went as a corner man for his fight.

As the plane was descending into Guam I noticed it was a much smaller island
than Oahu and I looked forward to walking its beaches. It looked so much like
Hawaii but, even better, it looked like Hawaii 20 years ago, with less buildings
and more greenery. When I got off the plane the heat was like Japan, a little
muggy and humid. I was excited to be there and even more excited because I
made my return ticket five days after the fight so I could sightsee and get a better
feeling of Guam.

The fight went well and Kato dominated his fight. The island boys on Guam had
a fire in their hearts, but their technique was still at a beginners level. They were
friendly as most islanders are, and well mannered and polite. After Kato's fight
the promoter, T.J. Thompson, was supposed to provide us rides from the arena
back to our hotel but it seems that he forgot to. So as I was watching the people
at the arena dwindle I began wondering how I was going to get back into town.
I'm not the panicking type of guy, so as Kato and I just chilled in the waiting
area one of the boys that fought asked us how we were getting back into town. I
told them that we came up with T.J. and he said, "What??? T.J. already left!
Jump in with us. We'll drive you back."

Kato and I gladly accepted and we jumped in the back of a pick up truck and
headed home. As we were driving home, one of the boys, Roman, told me that
they trained in the garage without proper instruction. That touched me for that's
how Relson Gracie started and that's also what Egan and I did to get extra
training. I asked them when they were training again and that I would love to
give them some training tips. They seemed surprised, as Roman said, "That
would be cool but the truth is we don't have any money to pay you." A payment
was the last thing on my mind as I answered, "Payment? I don't need a
payment. I would just love to help you guys out.”

Little did we know that a lifelong brotherhood had just been started. Over the
years we created a bond and the boys of Guam became like my little brothers.
As we got closer and we began training more, the people of Guam appreciated
the friendship and love I showed the people of the island, and we were offered a
space to open up a gym, now 15 years later known as Purebred Guam. I funded
the gym in the beginning by covering some small costs but most of the mats and
equipment was donated or lent from other island people.

Guam became my second home as I traveled back as much as 8-10 times per
year. In 1999 I was even given a certificate of recognition by the Governor of
Guam showing that the people of Guam recognized me as one of them. It was a
great honor for this was only the second time that this certificate has been
awarded.

Visiting Guam, there was a little word that two of the boys, Pat Fleming and
Roman Dela Cruz, brought to my attention. The word was Fokai. When I asked
the meaning they said it was an abbreviation of "Fuck Eye", pertaining to
someone getting their eye fucked up like in a fistfight. So if you were to get into
a fight and you got the better of your opponent, you could say, "I Fokai'ed him."
The term was also used more in surfing for when a guy carves a wave up with
sharp cutbacks and turns; "I Fokai'ed that wave."

Roman was just starting small and had no store or stock. He was just selling out
of a little bag printing only a dozen shirts at a time. It touched me that, although
he was barely breaking even, he would give me shirts as gifts every time I was in
town. I was grateful and was more than happy to support my brothers in Guam,
so I put the Fokai logo on my BJJ gi and on my fight trunks. As I was getting
more famous so was Fokai. Everyone asked me, “What is that? What does
Fokai mean?” I still get asked that question time and time again and my answer
is the same as it has been for the last decade, "It's a surfing/fighting brand out of
Guam that stands for the undying spirit of Familia." Today, the Fokai Familia
has grown and is alive and strong in over a dozen countries.



 Chapter 37: Debut in the Big Show – Pride

After soundly beating Randy Couture there were many rankings that had me
ranked in the top 5 in the world. Randy was the UFC Heavyweight Champion,
undefeated, and I handed him his first loss. Now the only other undefeated
fighter was Mark Kerr. I was intrigued to fight Mark not only because he was
undefeated, but because of what I felt after seeing him fight a tough Brazilian
fighter named Hugo Duarte. Hugo had a very crazy reputation because he was
the daring fighter who dared to take on Rickson Gracie in the infamous beach
fight video in Rio De Janeiro. In the video it is very hard to see exactly what is
going on but it seems that in the beginning of the fight Hugo actually got the
mount on Rickson.

Hugo came to Japan to fight Mark in a Pride event and to my surprise, Mark
pummeled the heart out of Hugo. Mark's aggression and ferocity was too much
for Hugo to handle. Mark ended up winning by disqualification because Hugo
kept pulling himself out of the ring. When I saw what Mark did to Hugo I was
in the stands and I thought, wow, the ferocity of Mark must be unbelievable for a
beast like Hugo to be broken and run like a coward. I don't exactly know what
happened inside of me, but although I was imagining being on the other end of
Mark's fury, there was a sort of a magnet pulling me to put myself in that spot. It
was like fear to avoid that situation but at the same time a desire to feel that
situation.

I was obsessed with wanting to feel that ferocity firsthand. I was intrigued to
know what I would do with that kind of pressure if I were the one in the ring.
Would my heart fold? Would my heart stay strong? So when Pride contacted
me to fight, I told them I wanted to fight Mark Kerr. I think I caught them off
guard because they asked me who I wanted to fight on three separate occasions
and I kept saying I wanted to fight Mark. I guess it was also because I was
considered a Japanese fighter and they wanted me to win. It was obvious that
they didn't think I could beat Mark. The fight money was set at $30,000 and I
was stoked because not only was I fighting in the big show I was getting 10
times more money than Shooto paid me.

However, my brother Egan took over and did some awesome negotiations and
got my fight money up to $80,000. I couldn't believe it. I was going to fight
someone I was longing to fight and now getting paid almost 30 times more than
I did in my past fights. Same four cornered ring, same 5-meter X 5-meter mat,
but 30 times the money? Honestly, I would have fought for free to be able to get
in the ring with Mark and have the chance to test the strength of my heart.
Thanks to Egan, I was getting my cake and eating it too.

It was weird preparing for the fight with Mark I had so many mixed feelings.
Part of me was scared that I might turn into a coward like Hugo, and another part
of me was excited to feel Mark's power and ferocity, in what may be a once in a
lifetime chance. I began training like a beast. Making many sacrifices training
three times a day or a total of 6-8 hours of training a day. I was even training so
hard that I was having a hard time keeping my weight up. Mark was over 280
lbs. so I didn't want to come in too light. However, I was training so hard that I
had a hard time staying over 200 lbs. That's approximately 80 lbs. lighter than
Mark and, in my opinion, too much weight to be giving up.

Then like a nightmare I got a call from Pride 10 days before fight day. They told
me that Mark got hurt and the fight was off. The Vice President, for Pride, Mr.
Sakakibara came to my Omiya gym and I was pissed! Ten days before the
fight?? I start tapering 10 days before my fight. I sat with Mr. Sakakibara and
explained to him that fight or no fight I still expected to be paid 90 percent of my
fight money. He explained to me that it would be difficult if the fight doesn't
take place but I strongly disagreed. I explained to him that the reason why I
want to get 90 percent if my pay is because, as a fighter 90 percent of my work
is done. The fight is only three rounds so merely 10 percent of my work and like
a party compared to the three months of grueling training.

The three months prior, with all the sacrifice, blood, tears, and sweat was like
preparation for a party. Ten days before the fight all the work and the painful
stuff is done. The fight is the easiest part of it all. He agreed and said he is
going to find me another fighter for me to fight and when he does, he'll get back
to me as soon as possible. We shook hands and when he left the gym something
gave way in my heart. From all the frustration and disappointment of losing
something I had my heart set on for so long, tears began to flow from my eyes.

Two days later I got a call from Pride telling me that they found a replacement
fighter for me. His name was Soichi Nishida, a Byakuren Kaikan Karate fighter
weighing in at an obese 360 lbs., about 150 lbs. heavier than me. I didn't really
care because I was just excited to be fighting so I accepted.

Fight day came and I was anxious to put all the months of training to work. All
the power and strength I accumulated through the three months of hard training
was built up in me, and now it was time to let it out all at once in the ring.
Because Nishida was the underdog, he was to make his ring entrance first. He
walked cockily down the ramp and just as he was about to enter the ring at the
final check they found that he forgot to put on his groin cup. So he had to run
back to the locker room and it looked really comical so everyone began to
laugh. It upset me that Pride didn't catch this mistake sooner and that he and his
corner men were so incompetent as to forget something as important as the groin
cup. Here I am ready to go out and die in the ring, and because of Nishida's
miss, the atmosphere was fucked and the crowd was laughing.

So when I finally made my ring entrance I was like a pit bull waiting to be
released so I could throw down. The referee even had to hold me back once
because I was so anxious to get it on. Then the gong sounded to start the round
and I stepped in with a big right that connected. However, when the punch
landed on impact I heard a crack come from my hand. Nishida went down so I
pounced on him; got the mount, hit him with a few more solid shots to the face.
He turned his back and I sunk in the choke. He tapped out and the fight was
over in seconds. I was happy with the win but I was concerned because my right
hand felt weird.

After my win, although I knew it was prohibited to bring a dog in the ring, I
brought Shooto Kun into the ring to join the celebration. Everyday I train and
commute in my van, Shooto Kun is always with me greeting me even after
training and accompanying me on my morning runs. Even when I had to sleep
in my car it was Shooto Kun that hung with me. So when I won, that is the one I
want to give a big "We did it!" hug. I then threw out Yamatodamashii t-shirts
out to the crowd and with every shirt I threw out I could feel sharp pain shoot
through my hand. That's when I began to really worry that my hand maybe
badly broken.

I went straight to the doctor's room and, to my surprise, when he cut off my
glove and taping, the knuckle of my pointer finger was gone. Then I noticed that
my knuckle was pushed an inch down my hand and that's when to doctor broke
the news to me that I had a broken hand. This was supposed to be just a tune up
for my fight with Mark but now with a broken hand I will be out for at least a
month. I hesitantly went in to see a doctor the next day and my biggest fear
came true. They put me in a fucking cast from the base of my fingers to my
elbow.



 Chapter 38: Not Fully Healed – Pride 7

A month had passed since I had broke my hand on Nishida's head and my
impatience just made the healing process much slower. I wasn't comfortable
with my hand in a cast and within two weeks I decided to cut my cast off
because I dreaded losing all my muscles and my grip and forearm. I managed to
make an incision in my cast so I could actually take it on and off. It was
convenient because I could take it off once in a while to wash and to do light
forearm workouts. However, when I went in to the hospital for my weekly check
up, the doctor freaked out when he found out what I had done.

He told me that by taking off the cast and moving my hand around, I aggravated
the injury therefore slowing down the healing process. I must have really
screwed up the healing process because when the date for the next Pride, Pride 7,
came around, my hand wasn't ready to use for a MMA fight. Pride was really
insistent on me fighting so when I couldn't get clearance from the doctor they
asked me to do just a grappling submission match instead. I agreed, and my
opponent was a fighter with Tongan origin named Tully Kulihaapai. He was an
excellent boxer with almost zero ground although Pride announced him as the
Tongan Jiu-Jitsu champion. Jiu-Jitsu in Tonga? What a joke.

When the fight started we squared off, then got into a clinch and I easily shucked
him to the ground. I then swept him, took the mount, and attempted to execute a
choke using my own gi. I chose to wear a gi in this match because I knew a
boxer wouldn't be able to use the gi to his advantage and it would add many
more chokes and attacks to my repertoire. When I got the mount I could tell
Tully was very uncomfortable because when I was attempting the gi choke he
was grabbing my gi so tight that it made it impossible for me to execute. I was
afraid that the referee was going to break us and stand us up again so when he
straightened his arm I fell into a perfect arm bar. I then arched my hips and
began to hyper extend his arm until he tapped. Easy fight grappling with a boxer
and very happy with the easy $80,000 payday.

After the fight, I grabbed the mike to address the gossip magazine, The Shukan
Post that was prosecuting me for roughing up one of their paparazzi reporters.
What I said on the mike was to the point and harsh. I said, " For all of you who
are aware of the problem that I'm being prosecuted for, I'm sorry for
disappointing all of you and getting bad press. But, if anyone, and I mean
anyone, comes into my house again and does me wrong, I'm going to still grab
you, kick you in the ass, and throw you out!" I said it in English so probably 90
percent of the fans had no clue what I said.

Then after seeing Mark Kerr's movie, "The Smashing Machine", it was clear to
me that even Mark and the producers didn't know what I was talking about
because in his movie he thought I was addressing him. They showed me like a
shit talker making threats and going off on how I was going to hurt him. That is
not my style and I didn’t speak in any disrespect to Mark.

Now just for the record, I wasn't talking about Mark at all. I was addressing The
Shukan Post only (covered in the next chapter). They came into my gym, fucked
with me, and now they are prosecuting me in a court case that I was facing
possible jail time. I wanted to express my feelings on the mike just to let them
know that, although they have me in a bind now, if they ever try the same shit
again, I will not lay down for them, so beware.

To Mark Kerr, if you thought I was addressing you I'm sorry for the
misunderstanding, but I wasn't.



 Chapter 39: The Year 2000 – Shukan Post trouble

The Shukan Post problem all started when my ex-wife's (well wife-to-be at the
time) brother, Norifumi shot a Yakuza in the face with an air pistol. He got
kicked out of the college he was attending in Yamanashi, and got a one year
suspension from being able to enter any wrestling competition run by the Japan
Wrestling Association. I was dating his sister Miyu at the time so I suggested
that, while on suspension, he should train MMA since the movements were very
similar to wrestling. That way his wrestling movement wouldn't decline much
and maybe he would enjoy MMA. He liked the idea, moved next door to me
and eventually fell in love with MMA. I paid his apartment rent, gave him a car
to drive, and he began training at my gym in Omiya. It seemed that the
combination of Nori's Yakuza problem and the rumor of the affair between Miyu
and I had the gossip magazines interested and they all wanted to get the story.

One of the biggest gossip magazines in Japan, the Shukan Post, began calling
my Omiya gym wanting to get an interview with me. My student who answered
the phone told them that I wouldn't be in until the evening so to call back then.
They agreed and hung up. I got to the gym at about 6 p.m. and since no call
came I went about my business and began training. Sparring began at 7:30 p.m.
and this particular night there was a full house.

Then all of a sudden, Miyu comes running into the gym telling me that a guy
grabbed her in the gym's parking lot asking her to do an interview. He
introduced himself, said he was with the Shukan Post, and gave her a business
card. By the look on Miyu's face she was definitely startled and because I
thought that was out of line, I got up in the middle of sparring all sweaty, and
walked out into the parking lot looking for this rude reporter. I walked into the
parking lot and there he was standing there in the dark and I walked straight up
to him and asked him who he was. He confirmed that he was with the Shukan
Post so I politely led him into my gym.

The instant he set foot in my gym, I locked the door, grabbed him by the collar
and led him to the back room. I asked him why he didn't properly call and make
an appointment before coming and demanded he tell me his reason for coming
here. He lied and said that he came here to write a story about my gym and my
fighting career. I really found this hard to believe because this magazine was a
total gossip magazine and a story with no controversy was too boring and
unimaginable. So I asked him again and all I got was the same lie.

I was tired of playing his games so I grabbed a pair of Vale Tudo gloves dragged
him to the mat and told him, "You made a very big mistake coming here my
friend. This is a Martial Arts Gym so anything on this mat is not considered
assault but just sparring. So if you don't stop telling me lies and come out with
the truth, then you and I are going to begin sparring. I then asked him again why
he was here, and when I got the same bullshit I grabbed his shirt, threw him to
the mat, lifted my hand like I was about to strike him, and asked him one final
time, "Why are you here?"

He finally realized that he was in deep shit so he finally came out with the truth.
He admitted that the purpose of his visit was to try and get a dual story on Miyu
and I's affair and the Yakuza problem with Nori. Since he was honest, I changed
my whole tone, took off my Vale Tudo gloves, brushed off his clothes, and led
him off the mat and back into the back office. I began to explain to him that if
this story gets out then it will be much more than an interesting story. Nori's
father could possibly lose his job and Miyu could possibly lose custody of her
son. He said he understood and apologized for his intentions and I also
apologized for what I did also. I then asked him if he was okay in which he said
he was fine, so I gave him my cell number and told him to call me if there was
anything I could do for him other than the dual story. We shook hands and he
left my gym.

Then later that night I got a call from an unknown number and when I answered
it, it sounded like a Yakuza on the other side. "Hey you mother fucker! This is
the Shukan Post! You fucked up a big story for us today, you asshole. I was
shocked. At first I was at a loss for words, I thought everything was fine until
this.

"You mother fucker, we can't forgive you!", he continued. "Now you must grant
us interviews with Miyu and her brother." When I told him that because of the
circumstances that wouldn't be possible he really got upset. "Didn't you just
have legal problems with the Naigai Times? Now wouldn't it be very bad for
you to have another problem about roughing up another reporter?" It would be
very bad for me, so I answered yes, but again declined his request to have the
interviews. Then he exploded! "You dumb fuck! If you don't grant the
interviews, then this whole article will become an article about you, a pro
fighter, assaulting our reporter.”
This was fucked up. He only gave me one choice. There was no way I was
going to sacrifice anyone I cared about to save my own ass. I would rather take
the fall then have someone I care about take a fall. "Stupid piece of shit!" I
thought. "You just fucked up because now you will never get your story." So I
calmly answered, "If that's the way it has to be, then so be it, because I can't let
you interview Miyu and Nori.”
Then he blew his top and screamed, "After the story of your assault on our
reporter comes out, then we're going to take you to court! You're fucked!" Then
he hung up the phone and a cold feeling ran through my body. I felt angry,
confused, and a bit scared, but I knew I did the right thing so I was ready for
whatever was coming. I have a belief that I will stand by to the death. I believe
that if I am in the right, I didn't do anything wrong and continue to do what my
heart says is the right thing, if the result was death of imprisonment; I am ready
to face it with my head up high. God has a reason for everything that happens
and sometimes the road he wrote for you doesn't seem pleasant but it is the road
you need to walk.

Sure enough, a week later in the Shukan Post there was a two-page spread about
me beating up their reporter. What made it worse was there was so much
bullshit and lies written. They said I beat him for 20 minutes..... 20 minutes???
What a joke! He would be dead if I beat him for 20 minutes. They also said that
I kidnapped him and brought him to my gym. They even claimed that the
injuries the reporter sustained kept him out of work for two weeks. Shit, that liar
walked out of my gym fine and even told me he was okay.

The screwed up thing about the Japanese system is that if you walk into the
hospital and claim pain in your neck or any part of your body, even if the doctor
can't find any injury, he will automatically tell you to rest for a week. The story
also said that the reporter was interviewing Miyu when I suddenly intervened,
stopped the interview, and began beating up the reporter. It was so full of shit
but there was nothing I could do. The power of the press is unreal. Then, about
a month later, I had eight detectives come over to my house at 7 a.m. to detain
me for questioning telling me there were criminal assault charges filed against
me by the Shukan Post Magazine. I was questioned, released, and a trial date
was set.

During my police interrogation and my trial I was 100 percent honest, thinking
that the courts knew what kind of dishonest, life wrecking publication the
Shukan Post was but it seems like this time honesty screwed me. However, until
today, I don't feel I did anything wrong. I just did what I had to do to protect
myself and the important people around me. If I did something wrong then I
would get punished, but because I didn't do anything wrong I felt that whatever
came my way, as bad as it looked, it wasn't a punishment but a way God guides
you to certain paths. Even if I had to do jail time, it wouldn't be a punishment
because God does things for a reason. Maybe He would be keeping me off the
streets by putting me in jail because I might die in a car wreck or something.

I was tried and convicted and got a six month suspended jail term with a two-
year probation. That meant that if I stayed out of trouble for two years then my
record was cleared. But if I got in any kind of trouble with the law within the
two-year period, I would automatically be serving a six-month prison sentence,
no questions asked. I felt cheated and wondered why these low down people
were allowed to get their way. Well, at least I was free and I was sure I didn't
have to worry about any reporters coming to my gym to pull that kind of shit
again.

This time being honest seemed to have fried me, but I'm still positive that it was
the right thing to do. Sometimes, on the outside, honesty gets you in deeper shit
and helps a liar get away, but on the inside, deep in your soul, the merits are
endless. Lying drains your soul. While being honest, especially at the roughest
of times, builds your integrity and fuels your soul. Honesty helps you stand
proud knowing you are taking the proper steps to preparing your soul to be
strong for when you have to make the transition to heaven from earth.



Chapter 40: Totally Controlled – Mark Kerr

Finally, Mark Kerr. The fight was to take place in Pride's 1st Heavyweight
Grand Prix Tournament. If they wanted me to participate in this tournament, I
demanded that they give me Mark Kerr in the first round and if I won they
would give me Royce Gracie. To my surprise, they set it up. I was very geared
up for this fight because it had been over a year since I arm barred Randy
Couture and I'd been seeking out a fight with Mark. I trained like a madman and
was ready! Although my strength is ground fighting, I was working hard on my
cardio and my kickboxing because I heard a rumor that Mark wanted to stand
with me.

I planned to stand toe to toe with Mark in the center of the ring-throwing blow
for blow. I even flew over to Seattle to train with Maurice Smith and work on
my standing with him and Kosaka. Again, because my training was so intense, I
had a hard time keeping my weight up, and came in too light again at a mere 202
lbs. I heard Mark was weighing in at a solid 280 lbs. so I was a bit concerned
about dropping too much weight. Also, for this fight, I decided to shave the
kanji for "death" on the back of my head. Many people misinterpreted it as me
sending a message to Mark that I was going to kill him but that's not my style. It
was a message to myself signifying that I was ready to fight to the death.

At this time, I thought of Mark as the best fighter in the world. That's why the
moment after I beat Randy Couture all my focus was chasing down Mark and
mixing it with him in the ring. Mark was exactly what his nickname labeled
him, "A Specimen." Ripped to shreds and built like a Greek god. The gong
sounded and I wanted to set the mood of the fight by making a impression on
Mark so I just walked straight up to him with no guard and threw a big right. To
my surprise, instead of trading blow for blow with me like I expected, he shot
under my punch and easily took me down. Mark was heavy and strong like a
beast and he was technical enough to control me and dish more damage on me
than I could on him.

Every punch that Mark threw hurt and I must say Mark's punches were some of
the heaviest punches I ever felt in my career. The only time I felt that I may
have been able to turn the table was when Mark gave me enough space to up
kick him square in the jaw from the bottom. In the end, one judge had it a draw
and the other two scored it for Mark. Physically Mark was just too strong and
on that particular night; he was definitely the better fighter. However, what I
was content with, was that through the whole fight, my heart was nowhere near
being broken or even hurt. I was happy that this beast that turned Hugo into a
chicken couldn't waiver my heart, not one bit.



Chapter 41: Ready to Die in the Ring – Igor Vovchanchyn

Fans all over the world find this hard to believe but taking the worst damage I
ever did and will ever take in a fight was one of the best things that ever
happened to me for my growth as a man.

When Pride offered me this fight, I knew it was a very dangerous fight for me,
but I did see it as a great opportunity to grow as a man. Before the fight
everyone told me not to stand and trade with him, but instead to take him down,
get on top of him, and let my forte, my ground fighting, go to work. I knew that
was probably the best way to pull out a victory, but there was a crazy magnet
pulling me to stand and throw down toe to toe with him. During my preparation
for this fight I battled with my desire to stand and trade with him as I was
preparing to do the logical thing, which was to get a take down and take the fight
to the ground. I didn't want to give up too much weight, so I was trying to eat a
lot and eventually came into the fight at my heaviest ever, 220 lbs.

I was ready for war, and more than that, I was ready to die. Rather than a sport,
I saw this fight as a test of the growth of my manhood and a big stepping-stone
in my life. There was a sort of fear mixed with excitement thinking about
throwing down blow for blow, toe to toe with Igor, possibly the hardest hitter in
MMA. In a split second, one blow could render me unconscious. I remember
watching from ringside at Pride 8 where Igor fought a huge Brazilian fighter
named Francisco Bueno and with one punch he knocked Francisco out cold as
he was still standing. With his eyes rolled back and his hands drooped limply by
his side, he fell like a tree, taking a few more devastating blows on his way down
to the canvas. It was one of the most brutal knockouts that I have ever seen.

It's very hard to explain, but the fear of that happening to me seemed to
somehow pull me towards it. I feared getting knocked out senseless like that,
but deep down inside of me I wanted to put myself into such a fearful situation
to see how my heart would react in the midst of the horror. I wondered if my
heart would waiver even for a moment or would my heart stay strong until the
very end.

In life a strong man fears nothing, but the kind of man I long to be, a man with
the undying spirit, Yamatodamashii, has many fears but never runs from them,
instead facing them to the end with an unbreakable heart until the dust has
settled. It is possible that the next time I faced such a scary life-threatening
situation; it might really be a matter of life and death.
A situation with no doctors at hand, no referees to jump in to put an instant stop
to the situation, and no corner men to throw in a towel. I believed the strength,
growth, and lesson my heart would learn stepping into the fire with Igor would
only better prepare me for such a possibility. With the test I would experience
fighting Igor under my belt, I was positive that I would react better and be able
to create a much better outcome. This could actually be a deciding factor about
whether someone close to me lives or dies. How could I pass up a chance like
this?

Because of the suggestion from the ring commentator, Stephen Quadros, I
decided to wear my gi pants in the fight to prevent Vovchanchyn from slipping
out due to the sweat, if I put him in an arm bar or a triangle. Also, because I was
set on testing the strength of my heart, I specifically told my corner men that no
matter what, they should NOT throw in the towel.

The tension and nerves I felt before this fight were unlike any I’d ever felt in a
fight. I always walk into the ring ready to die, but for this fight, because of the
power in Igor's punches, and because I basically knew how I was going to
approach the fight, it was a bit different. As I wrote my farewell words to the
people I care about, I felt a little bit more emotion, and my final words to some
were much more difficult to write than usual.

When I entered the ring and looked across the way to Igor, I couldn't help but
notice the thickness of his thighs and his girth, which helped me understand why
he was considered one of the hardest punchers in MMA. I actually had a
moment where my mind wandered, where I doubted whether standing toe to toe
was what I really wanted to do.

Before I could figure out exactly what I wanted to do, the gong sounded. I faked
a tackle and stepped in and threw a big right cross. The right cross clipped him
on the cheek, and I instinctively grabbed and clinched with him. This is when I
realized that this was going to really be a true test of my spirit, to see if my
Yamatodamashii was imbedded deep enough in my soul or not.

You see, unless the situation you're faced with brings fear in your heart, then it
can't be a test of your Yamatodamashii. As scary as a situation may seem in the
eyes of others, unless it brings fear to your heart personally, then it isn't a
Yamatodamashii test.

Yamatodamashii is not a situation; it's a feeling. I can have a Yamatodamashii
experience hanging a hairpin turn driving an F-1 racecar but a professional F-1
racer wouldn't. This is simply because I'm not used to taking sharp turns at 200
miles per hour, while it's something the F-1 racer trains to do everyday. So the
situation of taking a hairpin turn in an F-1 car at 200 mph can't be a
Yamatodamashii experience for all. It really depends on the feeling inside the
individual who is behind the wheel.

Because I’d had a bit of hesitation about throwing down toe to toe with Igor, by
clinching with him after the first punch, I knew in my heart that I was being
given a chance to test myself in a rare Yamatodamashii situation. I also knew
that whatever I did in the next few seconds would determine whether I passed or
failed this test of my Yamatodamashii.

He twisted and turned, trying to break away from me, but I hung on, staying
close to him. It seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion, and I could
feel my Yamatodamashii grow from a flicker to an uncontrollable flame! Little
did all those witnessing this fight know, that they were seeing the all important
growth and maturity of my spirit: A chance that comes very rarely in a man's
life, to strengthen, stabilize, and carry the spirit to the next level.

Then to the surprise of all, especially Igor, I let go and unleashed a four-punch
flurry consisting of a right, left, right, and another left. I knew I’d caught him by
surprise because I had him moving backward as we stood toe-to-toe exchanging
blow for blow. We were literally trying to knock each other’s heads off and we
got so caught up in the exchange that all our form and proper technique went out
the window. At one point in the throwdown, we both missed huge rights, which
threw us both off balance so much, that we actually bumped our backs against
each other.

Then, as I was straightening up and looked towards him, I saw his face right in
front of me with no guard. So instead of setting myself up for another right I
instinctively slung my fist towards his face with a wild and ferocious backhand.
Unfortunately I was just two inches out of reach, but I knew that if that backhand
connected, it would have been lights out for Igor. What I didn't know at the time
was that what I was going to experience from this point on is what makes this
fight so dear to my manhood, and it would have never happened if that backhand
landed. Weird as it may seem, missing that backhand was a blessing in disguise.

I then regained my balance and threw a big right that missed, and before I could
regain my balance, he threw me to the ground, wanting to go to the ground
instead. One of the most ferocious, dangerous punchers in MMA opted to go to
ground rather than stand toe to toe with me? What the fuck? In a way, part of
the battle was already won.

On the ground I quickly put him into my guard, and as I pulled him close to me,
I could feel something warm dripping down the side of my face. What I felt was
my own blood running down my face. I began to wonder if I’d cut Igor in that
crazy exchange, or if I’d been cut.

When I looked up at Igor, I noticed a big cut about three inches long across his
left cheek with blood trickling out of it. As he was pounding me from my guard,
not for a moment did I go in defensive mode. Instead I was continuously
attempting arm bars and continuously hacking and punching at his face from the
bottom.

The small chops I was doing on his face wasn't so much to hurt him but to try to
open the cut up and, more importantly, to show Igor that no matter how much he
hit me my spirit was alive and well. This would be much more damaging than
any punch I could land from my back. I specifically remember one single blow
that Igor connected to my left ear that, on impact, made a pop in my eardrum,
and I began feeling a bit light headed. I knew there was some kind of damage
done, but I didn't realize that at that moment Igor had perforated my left
eardrum.

I was being pounded throughout the whole ten-minute round, and as I look back
on the video, there must have been two or three times where I may have lost
consciousness for a moment. Igor's punches felt a lot different from Mark's.
Unlike Mark's, I felt no damage on the surface from Igor's punches. Instead it
felt like each and every one of Igor's punches that landed flush were piercing
straight to my brain.

I also remember that at one point in the fight, after I was hit with a solid right, I
purposely looked over to my corner and nodded to them acknowledging to them
that I was okay even though I really wasn't sure if I was or not. I did that for two
reasons. One to subside the concern my corner had for me, seeing me take too
many hard shots, and two, to again play psychological games with Igor's head.
It must have baffled Igor a bit, hitting me with punches that rendered most
fighters unconscious or made them tap, and all I did was tell my corner I was
okay.

Then at about the 7-minute mark of the fight one of the Pride judges ran to my
corner and screamed to my corner men that they throw in the towel. However,
my corner knew that whenever I fought it wasn't for the sport or for a W etched
on my record. They knew I approached my fights not just as a fight in a MMA
ring, but as a movement in my life. And by no means were they about to take
away one of the rare chances a man gets in his life to build and strengthen his
heart which feeds his samurai spirit. As painful as it was to watch they knew it
was just the beginning of a test to build my spirit, something that is far bigger
than life, something my spirit will take with it for eternity!

I heard my corner scream, "One minute!" I knew I’d taken some damaging
punishment during the first round, but instead of my mind worrying about that,
all I could think of was that the second round would start with us on our feet
again, and I would once again have a chance to throw blow for blow, toe to toe
with the most ferocious puncher in MMA.

I don’t remember much about the last minute, except that it felt like half an
hour. I must have drifted in and out of consciousness and when the round ended,
instead of getting up right away, I needed to lay down for a while to regain my
focus. "Whew” I thought, “that was a crazy last minute. Okay focus, get back to
the corner and get ready for the second round," is what went through my mind.
As I lay on my back trying to focus my head was spinning. Then suddenly my
brother Egan was leaning over me and, with a concerned look on his face, he
said, "That's enough! I'm going to stop the fight!"

I wanted to rest a bit longer, but because of the fear my beating instilled in Egan
and my fear of Egan calling the fight, I felt I had to get up immediately to show
Egan I was okay. I got up and began walking to my corner but something very
strange was happening to me. Besides my head spinning, my feet that had been
with me for 33 years of my life, for the first time ever, didn't feel like my feet.
My brain was commanding my feet to step but my feet weren't responding. I
literally had to be dragged back to my corner, so my corner couldn't get my stool
under me; I just sat on the ground in the corner. The moment I sat down, the
doctor was in my face shinning lights in my eyes.

Even though the doctor was standing right in front of me his voice sounded like
it was coming from a distance when I heard him say, "He can't continue, I'm
going to stop it!" When I heard the words, "Stop it" come out of the doctor’s
mouth, an unexplainable rush overwhelmed my body. Suddenly all the three
months of hard training and sacrifices I made in preparation for this fight flashed
through my mind and then a strange feeling of fear! Fear, not of the fight being
stopped, but fear that an opportunity of a lifetime would slip out of my hands,
the opportunity to mold and strengthen my spirit in the never-ending obsession
to obtain true Yamatodamashii. Fear of not being able to fight to the end.

The first thing that came to my mind was, "NO!!!" I knew I had a two-minute
interval between rounds, and I wanted to at least get my two minutes first before
they made such a crucial decision to stop the fight. Of course I didn't know how
badly damaged my body was at the time. All I knew was that my spirit was
alive and well and wanted to go on!

Then I heard the doctor say in what seemed like an even more distant voice, "His
eyes are dilated. The fight's over." Those words hit me deep in my soul.
Suddenly, I could feel a rush fill my body. Like fire was filling up my soul and
giving me this surge of energy I can't explain. Yes, my body was battered more
than I imagined but my spirit was fresh, alive, and longing to continue this war
even if it meant fighting to the death. My spirit and soul were roaring in distress
while my body was battered beyond my imagination.

I had managed to accomplish something few have ever done: The fire in my
spirit had outdone the limits of my human body. Then like something took over
my soul I began screaming, "No!! No!! I'm okay! I still can fight!
Nooooooo!" The fire in my spirit and soul was burning bright and ready for
more, while my body had shut down, unable to go on, I had a victory in my soul
far beyond any victory I could ever have in the ring.

Then in the distance I could hear the gong sounding, signifying that the fight had
officially been stopped. I felt my soul fill with anger for a split second because
it was still ready for battle and longed to begin the second round and stand toe to
toe with Igor again. Then like letting the air out of a balloon, I felt my sprit
subside as though it left my body. My soul took it hard, and until the very end
refused to see that my body was done, battered far beyond a two-minute rest
interval.

My brother then helped me up to my feet, and as I tried to make my way to
Igor's corner, for some reason my feet couldn't stay under me, and I found
myself on the ground again. “What is wrong with me,” I wondered. I couldn't
even walk, let alone stand without having my head begin to spin. However,
even in my critical state, I was determined to send a message to the spirit of a
fellow fighter and friend, Andy Hug, before I left the ring.

I’d met Andy at a party a month before my fight. He wished me luck and said
he would be there to watch. Little did we know that he was not going to make it
due to Sickle Cell Leukemia, which took his life a week before my fight.

As I was helped out of the ring I realized that I faced one last challenging task:
going down the walkway out of the arena on my own power. I had an agreement
with myself that, by all means, I would walk in and out of the ring on my own
power. The only time I would be carried out on a stretcher was if I were
unconscious or if I were dead.

Although I thought I felt my spirit leave me, with the sudden task ahead, like a
spark kindled to a flame, it came back to me. As I shook off the hands of my
corner men, they realized that I wanted to walk out 100 percent on my own
power. It wasn't a macho thing, but rather something I had to do for myself. My
head was spinning and each and every step was grueling. I never thought that
something as simple as walking could ever become so difficult.

The walkway out of the arena never looked so long, so I just concentrated on one
step at a time. All I had in my heart was to get out of the view of all the
spectators so I mustered up all the strength I had in me. It was a weird sensation
because it seemed that the closer I got to the end of the walkway, the harder and
harder each step became.

When I finally got out of view of all the spectators, I took three more steps and,
as if someone had pulled the plug, all my power suddenly left me. I collapsed,
and the next thing I remember was people asking me questions, but the only face
I could see and voice I could hear was my brother Egan. I could hear him asking
me, "Enson. Can you hear me?"

Before I could answer him there was a big commotion about sliding a stretcher
under me. To me. the stretcher is only a last resort, so I screamed to Egan, "No
Egan! No stretcher!" Egan pulled the stretcher out from under me, pushed all the
people away, somehow picked me up in a bear hug, and carried me in back to
the doctors’ room. By all means, if ever all my power expires and I can't finish
the duty on my own the only other option is to rely on nothing else but the power
of my family.

When I arrived in the doctors’ room, Egan laid me on a bed and the doctors
immediately stuck me with two needles for intravenous feeding. I then began to
feel sick and began throwing up. I knew that if someone had severe head trauma
and they began throwing up, it was a very bad sign. That's when I began to
realize that I was in pretty bad shape. There was a lot of commotion in the room
and the next thing I remember hearing was sirens. When I opened my eyes and
looked around all I saw was men in white and that's when I realized that I was in
an ambulance. Then I remember a strong but gentle touch on my leg as I heard
Egan's voice saying, "Relax, Enson. You're going to be okay." I then must have
faded out of consciousness because the next thing I remember was them putting
me in some sort of a space capsule to have my brain scanned. I must have
passed out again because suddenly I was in a private room with curtains all
around me and 24-hour nurses on hand to watch me.

The next morning when I woke up, I was surprised to see Egan still there. Egan
never stays longer in Japan than he has to. If there was a fight on Saturday he
was out headed back to Hawaii on Monday. Out of concern about my condition,
he had postponed his flight home until I got better. I felt bad and told Egan that
I was okay and not to worry, but Egan ignored me and began questioning the
doctors about what kind of intravenous fluids they were giving me.

I was bedridden for four days. Many people came to see how I was doing.
Everyone who came in seemed really concerned, but I assured them that I was
fine. I couldn't understand why everyone was so concerned. Yes, I took a
beating, but I was fine and my spirits were high. The only thing that made me
uneasy was that every time I sat up the room began to spin. I asked the nurse
why and she told me that my left eardrum had been ruptured really badly, and
because of that, my equilibrium was off. I had a hard time talking because my
jaw was broken but everyone seemed to understand me or pretended to.

On the fifth day my dizziness subsided, so I was allowed to go to the toilet on
my own as long as I pushed along my intravenous bag. I took a pee and washed
my hands and when I looked into the mirror I was shocked to see what I looked
like. My face and head were swollen and discolored so badly that I couldn't
believe that it was me. I looked like I’d been in a massive car accident. Then I
began to realize why everyone who came to visit me was so worried. I even
began to get a bit worried at how bad I looked.

When I got back to the room the doctor was waiting to inform me that he wanted
to keep me a few more days. He said my brain was still a bit swollen and he
wanted to keep me just a little while more until my brain returned back to its
normal size. He wanted to make sure that there was no bleeding in my brain and
they wouldn't be 100 percent sure until my brain returned back to it's normal
size. He explained to me that when the brain is swollen, it compresses the veins,
which clogs it, so until the brain returns to its normal size, you won't know if
there is bleeding or not.

So I had a few more days of CAT scans and hospital food. He also said my liver
count was 2000 times that of a normal person and he wouldn’t consider releasing
me until it dropped significantly. He informed me that if my liver count became
too high, my liver would shut down, which could easily result in death. He
continued, telling me I had a fractured left jaw, a broken right index finger, and a
badly ruptured left eardrum.

Whoa!!! Damn, I didn't even realize that I was hurt to that extent. And to think
I was screaming at the ring doctor to let me have my two-minute rest interval,
and that I was okay to fight the second round. Shit, I needed more than two
minutes; I needed a five-day interval to be able to fight the second round.

I had to smile then, because although I lost the fight, the lesson I learned about
myself as a man was priceless. In this war with Igor, I knew my mind, my heart,
and my spirit, actually overcame my body. I felt really good about that because
the majority of the fighters out there today give up, not because their body fails,
but because their mind, spirit, or heart fails instead. Their mind anticipates a
fearful outcome, which weakens their heart and their spirit, which in turn makes
them give up. God actually makes the body very, very, durable and strong, and
most people don't ever realize this because of the fear in their minds, the
weakness in their heart, and the underdevelopment of their spirit makes them
quit before they get to experience the durability and strength of their body.

However, was this all worth it? For me, yes, because I am always on a mission
to learn about and develop myself as a man. I want to be as strong a man as I
can be to prepare for when I finally face the most fearful test of dying. These
kinds of experiences will only better prepare me to be able to deal with the most
horrifying thing I will inevitably have to face, death. Whether I can face my
death as a man is one of the biggest fears I have.

It took me more than three months to recover, and even before I made a full
recovery, Pride was asking me to fight again as soon as possible. As I fought,
my objective, to get in the ring, was slowly changing and taking on a much more
honorable and deeper meaning. At first, getting in the ring was just to hone my
skills in hand-to-hand combat so I could protect myself and my loved ones in
case of a street altercation. Then it changed to seeing how good I was compared
to all the other fighters in the world by becoming a World Champion and
obtaining title belts. Then, without me knowing, it eventually evolved into
striving for inner growth of my heart and my soul!

And this fight with Igor showed me that in the process to build my heart and soul
as a man, there wasn't anything more I could learn in the ring. What I went
through in my fight with Igor was by far the limit. Anything more would have
definitely meant death. So I wanted to move on. I felt that, in my obsession to
be the best man I could be, there was no more that the ring could teach me. I
couldn't imagine anything more dangerous and scary than what I’d gone through
with Igor. It was time to move on.

However, I decided to get into the ring just one more time to show people I was
okay. I didn't want them to think that Igor had beat me into retirement, because
the truth was far from it. So I told Pride that I wanted to fight just one more time
and that it would be my last fight. I fought Igor in Pride 10 and I felt I would be
fully recovered and ready to go by Pride 12. So I gave Pride the green light and
asked them to present me with fighters that I could choose from.



 Chapter 42: My Secret Retirement Fight – Heath Herring

Pride gave me the choice to fight two fighters. One was Ken Shamrock and the
other was Heath Herring. Ken was coming off a very disappointing loss to
Fujita but he was a pioneer and a legend in MMA so he was definitely an
appealing opponent. Herring was a new and up and coming young fighter and
what made me choose him over Ken was his convincing win over Big Tom
Erikson. Tom was a wrestler with inhuman strength and was supposed to be
better than Randy Couture and Mark Kerr.

In Pride 11, Heath fought and tapped out Tom, so Heath was my choice for my
final fight. Another reason why I was retiring was because I planned to get
married to Miyu. Every time I stepped into the ring I was prepared to die. So
ready to die that I would write farewell letters to all the people close to my
heart. I would tell one trustworthy student where the letters were and would
instruct him to make sure everyone got their letter in case I died in the ring.
Now that I was going to get married, I would have a wife and child, and in my
heart, there was no way I could die in the ring and leave them alone. Therefore I
had to retire, because fighting with the "Kill or be Killed" attitude was the only
way I knew how to fight. Miyu had a son from her previous marriage named
Erson and I loved him as my own. More than leaving Miyu without a husband, I
couldn't imagine leaving Erson without a father.

My preparation for Heath was a bit difficult. I didn't think Heath had more
ferocity and destructiveness than Igor, where the fear element pushed me to train
hard. I decided to go to Thailand to hone my punching and kicking for a change
of pace. I had no connections in Thailand at the time so I asked a friend,
Yamaki Kaicho, if he could hook me up with somewhere to train. Yamaki
Kaicho knew a retired Muai Thai champion, Sangtien Noi, who ran a gym in
Pathum Thani. I flew to Bangkok, got a hotel room, called a taxi and rode 40
minutes to Sangtien Noi's gym. Sangtien was very soft spoken and spoke very
good English and welcomed us with open arms. At Sangtien's gym there also
was an Australian fighter by the name of John Wayne who spoke fluent Thai and
he translated for me the times that Sangtien couldn't understand me.

Training was great and the conditioning was harsh. Ten kilometers of running in
the morning and 5 kilometers in the afternoon. It was a struggle but telling
myself that this was my last fight gave me the drive to push myself and get in
great shape. Then two weeks before the fight I returned to Japan to finish off my
training.

Then a very unfortunate thing happened to me. I caught a highly contagious eye
infection called Pink Eye, which caused a lot of tearing, and prevented me from
opening my eye fully for more than two seconds at a time. Whenever I looked
around I had to squint because if I opened my eye up 100 percent even for a few
seconds it would start burning. Then out of my carelessness, my Pink Eye
became pink eyes as it spread to my right eye, too. When I went to the doctors
and mentioned I had a fight in a week, they told me that it would be impossible
for me to fight. In my heart, there was no way they were canceling my fight so I
stopped going to the doctors and began to treat the infection at home. Needless
to say my training never faltered, because for me there was no doubt in my mind
the show would go on.

Pride had no connections with the doctors that I went to see so they had no idea
what kind of shape I was in. To avoid Pride officials from seeing my condition
and possibly canceling my fight I skipped the rules meeting, press conferences,
and the photo shoot. When fight day finally rolled around my eyes were still
swollen but if I squinted I could see so I concluded that my condition would not
affect my ability to fight. However, I still had one last big hurdle to clear... the
final doctors check before the fight. When I got to the arena, I constantly wore
dark shades so no one would notice my eyes. Then during my doctors check Dr.
Nakayama asked me to remove my shades. When he saw the swelling in my
eyes he look very concerned and he asked me how I felt.

I tried to sound as convincing as possible as I answered, "I'm fine. I feel great!"
Then when he shined a little flashlight in my eyes it blinded me and I
instinctively squinted and turned away from the light. He then asked with a
concerned tone in his voice, "Are you sure you're okay?" I then smirked at him
and said, "Of course! I ready to fight right now!" He then got up walked out of
the room and apparently went to discuss my condition with the higher up Pride
officials. My heart began to pound as I began to wonder if they would actually
call my fight off. Then to my surprise, the doctor came back, stuck out his hand
to me and said, "Good luck. Have a good fight." I was relieved and wanted to
get out of the doctors room before they changed their mind, so I put my shades
back on and went straight back to my locker room.

While I was in the waiting area preparing to enter the ring, as my ring entrance
song began, I felt really strange, Something was different inside of me. I don't
know why but maybe it was because I knew it was my last fight. Tears kept
filling my eyes and I tried my best to not to let them roll down my face. As I
was walking through the crowd making my way to the ring, I could feel the
energy in the crowd as if they also knew this was going to be my last fight. I got
into the ring first then had to wait for Heath to enter. When we were both in the
ring and the spotlights were turned on, I was completely blinded for a few
seconds. I had to close my eyes and slowly begin to squint until I wasn't blinded
anymore.

I knew Heath always starts off with a hard low kick so I decided to sit and wait
for it to come and when it did I planned to step in with a huge right cross. The
gong rang and as expected Heath came in with a big low kick. I timed it right
and "Bang!" it connected, but I didn't step in enough. I hit the mark but it didn't
hurt him. Then I felt like my fire had been lit and I couldn't wait, so I continued
with a big left hook then continued to aggress. After missing a big wild
roundhouse right, the straight left that followed hit its mark. Heath went down
and I pounced on him.

However, I apparently didn't hurt him as much as I thought because when I
pounced on him he had more power and was more coherent than I expected. I
thought he was really hurt so instead of taking his back and securing position, I
stayed on the side of him and began raining down punches. To my surprise he
was clear headed enough to grab one of my legs and had enough power to drive
hard and put me on my back. Before I could adjust, he had my right arm in a
deep key lock. What prevented him from breaking my arm completely or
dislocating my shoulder was the fact that I had one of his legs wrapped up which
prevented him from taking full side control. Without him taking full side control
it was very hard for him to break my arm. He then began to torque my arm so
hard that my elbow began cracking. I heard a cracking sound so I knew I had to
get out as soon as possible to prevent further damage. He had my right arm
locked in tight so with my free left arm I began pounding the back of his head.
He then torqued it again and there was more cracking.

Instead of just breaking my arm, he opted to look over to the referee and
screamed, "It's cracking! It's cracking!" The referee then looked at me and
asked me if I wanted to give up so I shook my head to signify I was okay. Heath
then turned to me and yelled, "Tap man! It's going to break!" To me, this was a
sign of insecurity in Heath's mind. He was looking for a way out by trying to
coax the referee to stop the fight.

So I replied, "Go for it! If you can break it then go ahead and break it!" I then
continued to pound the back of his head with my left hand wondering if and
when my arm was actually going to break. I knew there was some damage
already done to my arm because of all the cracking I heard but I wasn't about to
tap because I "thought" my arm was going to break. I wasn't about to give up on
an assumption. Instead I occupied my mind with waiting for an opening to slip
my arm out while I pounded his head with my left hand.

When you think about it, as I mentioned earlier, 99 percent of the fighters tap in
the anticipation on what they think will happen to them. Like the anticipation of
passing out from a choke or a joint breaking from a joint lock. Rarely do you
see a fighter fighting until a limb breaks. Renzo is one of the few fighters that
has done this and I really respect for his heart and his samurai spirit.

I will never waste time or use any of my concentration on anticipating an
outcome. I'll use 100 percent of my energy to get out by kicking, hitting, or
stomping to distract my opponent or deter him from completing the damage that
he is doing to me. I'm never going to try to anticipate an unpredictable fate.
Especially while my actions may change the momentum and possible the
outcome. I'll do whatever I can to steer my fate into my favor. And if I'm
unsuccessful, I will find out when I wake up from being choked unconscious or
when one of my limbs snaps to a point to where it is dangling and useless.

Then as I was hitting the back of Heath's head I felt his grip loosen so I took the
opportunity to slip my arm out and escape his ever so dangerous key lock. My
arm felt a bit strange from the damage Heath did to my ligaments but it was still
definitely in good working order.

We were stood up again I immediately threw a 1-2 combination and we ended
up in a clinch. Then, stupid me, the same ridiculous throw I tried on Mario
Sperry I tried to do to Heath. And again it failed and I ended up on my back
giving Heath the top position. I put him in my guard and we then exchanged
punches with neither of us doing much damage to each other. I got hasty and
tried to force an arm bar. Heath was ready, threw my legs to the side and
secured side control. He threw a knee that missed, then another one that hit me
square in the head. It was a solid knee but nothing compared to Igor's punches.
The next two knees that he threw missed and to my surprise the referee stepped
in and stopped the fight.

I was shocked. I wasn't hurt and the position Heath had me in wasn't a very
dangerous position. I instantly held both hands up looked at the referee and said,
"What? Why?" The referee then slapped my hand as if he resented my protest
and I decided not to protest until I got to see a video to see how bad it really
looked. I would look really stupid arguing a call when in everyone else's eyes
the stoppage was justifiable. Sometime what you feel and what it looks like to
others is totally two different things. So I just accepted my defeat, congratulated
Heath and then asked for the microphone. When I congratulated Heath I
remember him complimenting me on my Muay Thai and that made me happy.

Pride knew what I was about to do with the microphone so they tried not to pass
it to me but I insisted. Finally, after I got the microphone, I said, "After I
showed how durable I am in my fight with Igor, this fight shouldn't have been
stopped so soon. However, it was my fault for letting myself get in that
position. But I was fine."

I then went to the center of the ring, took a deep breath, and got ready to drop a
big bomb on everyone in the arena. I didn't tell everyone of my plans, I just kept
everything to myself. I then took another deep breath, closed my eyes for a few
seconds, and said, "Today was... Enson Inoue's... Yamatodamashii's... last fight!"

First the arena fell dead silent. Everyone was shocked. Then slowly there was a
lot of mumbling, then a lot of people screaming their protest and some even
shedding tears. As I walked out of the arena I made sure I held my head up high
and raised my arms up in the air to signify that my spirit is still alive and in my
heart I never lost a single fight.

I heard screams like, "No Enson!", "You can't retire!", "We need you to fight!".
As I walked out of the arena for possibly my last time, I wasn't sad I was more
relieved because all I was doing was closing one chapter in my life and looking
forward to opening a new one.



Chapter 43: Egan vs. Guy – Pride plays games with me.

In the very next event, Pride 13, my brother Egan was offered a fight with Guy
Mezger. Guy was more my rival than Egan’s because when I got pulled out of
UFC 13 by the doctor, I was supposed to fight Guy next. However, I had just
announced my retirement in Pride 12 and Guy was matched up with my brother.

They had a good fight with Guy getting the upper hand in the standing and
eventually knocking Egan out. I ran into the ring to check on Egan and as I
passed Guy he whispered to me, “Remember, this isn’t personal.” I was
confused. It was a clean fair fight where Guy was the better man so why would
it be personal?
So after briefly checking Egan, I walked up to Guy, shook his hand and asked
him, “What isn’t personal?”
He then said, “You don’t know? I have to call you out, and I mean in a bad
way. So just remember, it isn’t personal.”
Still holding his hand I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. So I asked Guy,
“You’re going to call me out? I’m retired!”
He then replied, “I know. I don’t want to. But I have to.”

I was blown away. I was thinking…if he didn’t want to then why is he going to
do it? I could feel my blood beginning to boil so I clenched Guys hand hard and
began to corner him into the corner. I then told him, “If you don’t want to do it,
then don’t do it!”

He then replied, “I have to Enson, it’s in my contract.” That backed me off of
Guy a bit, for now I knew it really wasn’t personal. It was a ploy from Pride to
pull me back into the ring. Now it became personal with Pride! Guy then
grabbed the mike and said, “I had a great fight with Egan but the one that I think
I really should fight is his brother, Enson.”

I was furious… not at Guy, but at Pride for playing games. Pride was known to
play games and bully some of the fighters but they never tried anything like this
with me. I thought the fear mixed with respect that they had for me prevented
this sort of thing, but now that was in the past.

I grabbed the microphone and responded, “I’m retired and I will not come out of
retirement for a stupid challenge like that. This is fucked up.” Then I spiked the
microphone on the ground and left the ring. Walking back to the locker rooms
all I could think about was finding out who put Guy up to this and why he did it.

The minute I got back to the locker room I was surprised to see Guy walk in. He
came straight to my locker room to explain his side. He explained to me that his
contract stated that if he beat Egan then he was supposed to call me out. They
also told him that I was in on it so it would be okay to do it in a bad way. I
explained to him that I knew nothing about it and I appreciate him coming out
honestly with everything. I appreciated Guy being up front with me and I
respected him for coming to talk to me face to face. Guy is a class act and I now
not only respected him as a fighter, but as a person too.

After Guy left the room, I turned to one of the part time workers and demanded
that he brings to me the president, Mr. Morishita or the vice president, Mr.
Sakikabara. He was terrified and ran out of the room. Five minutes passed and
a different part time worker came. I was so angry that it didn’t matter that this
poor guy had nothing to do with this. I walked up to him and said, “Get me the
president NOW or I’m going to do to you what I plan to do to him!” Then I
kicked him in the ass as he began to leave.

Another 10 minutes passed before another different part time worker came in...
and this time it was a girl. Damn, that was my weakness. I have a hard time
raising my voice to girls so I bit my tongue and waited. Five minutes passed and
although I knew they were busy because there were still fights going on, I told
myself that if another five minutes passes and no one showed up, then I was
going to walk to ring side and drag the president to the locker room.

Just then, in comes a higher up Pride official. It wasn’t the president or the vice
president. It was Mr. Kawasaki, the matchmaker. He walked up to me and asked
me what was wrong and I instantly grabbed him, threw him to the ground, and
mounted him. I clutched his throat, raised my other fist and gave him one
chance.

“What the fuck is going on?! Who authorized this?” I screamed. I saw terror in
his eyes like he was looking at death straight in the face. “I don’t know! I had
nothing to do with it! Please don’t hurt me,” he pleaded.

My grip tightened around his throat and I felt I was losing control. I felt like I
was in my own bubble, just me and Mr. Kawasaki floating off the ground. I’m
not sure what I would have done next but then I heard a stern familiar voice say,
“No Enson... Stop it! Let him go.” Egan’s voice popped the bubble and set my
feet back on the ground.

It wasn’t his fault. I need to talk to higher ups, I thought. So I released Mr.
Kawasaki’s throat and picked him up off the ground. I looked into his eyes and
sternly said, “Get Morishita or Sakakibara now.” He told me he understood and
briskly walked out of the locker room. I was flustered thinking about what I had
just done but I knew that to get prompt answers from Pride, this was the way I
had to go.

Then to my surprise, in walks Mr. Sakakibara. He calmly walked into the room
straight up to me and began saying, “Enson please. It was someone in the
office. We’ll find out who it is.” I didn’t know what to believe so I asked him
for a deadline on when he would produce me the name. He told me next week
and I let him know that if he didn’t call me I would hold him personally
responsible. He agreed and I let him leave.

Four days later I got a call from Mr. Sakakibara and he asked me if we could
meet at the hotel restaurant. I agreed and we met. Before we sat down he
started off by bowing his head really low and apologizing for what happened.
He then sat down and said, “Please forgive us. We don’t know who did it in the
office but I’ll take responsibility.” How can they not know? I explained to Mr.
Sakakibara that every time I fight I am prepared to die in the ring and I cannot
die in a ring that I don’t trust. I don’t even want to associate with people that
play games like that. He could see in my eyes and tone that I was dead serious
as I glared into his eyes.

He then slowly reached down and reached into his briefcase and handed me a fat
envelope. He bowed his head as his arm was extended out to me holding out
the envelope. I knew it was cash and I wasn’t sure how much it was but it
looked over $5,000. I reached out, accepted the envelope and without opening it
slipped it into my pocket. He seemed relieved that I accepted it and then again
said, “I’m really sorry. Please forgive us.”

I then explained to him that playing games like that will dissolve the trust I have
in them and this should never happen again. We shook hands and I left the
meeting $10,000 richer.



Chapter 44: Marriage – The Next Chapter

The new door opening in my life was marriage. When I met Miyu I had a steady
girlfriend, Takako, that I'd been dating for the past four years. I was young and
weak to temptation and never turned down the chance to play and be sexually
intimate. Then one night I was hitting the clubs with my sponsors and we were
partying in a VIP room in a club in Shibuya, Tokyo. We were checking out all
the hot chicks in the club when my sponsor pointed out a famous wrestler girl,
Seiko Yamamoto, whom I'd seen on television many times, outside the VIP
room sitting on the stairs with a friend.

I told one of my students from Guam, John, to go outside and bring them both
into the VIP room to party with us. Seiko was very cute and athletic - just my
type. So when John brought Seiko and her friend Yumiko in the VIP room to sit
by us, I ordered them drinks and we began to introduce ourselves. Just as we
were finishing introducing ourselves we heard glass breaking and beer bottles
were flying all over. A big Yakuza fight broke out and we were in the middle of
it all. So instead of hanging around, we grabbed Seiko and Yumiko and quickly
left the club. Seiko then mentioned that she wanted to meet my dog Shooto
Kun, so we took them to my car where Shooto Kun was waiting, and while we
all played with him we exchanged phone numbers.

As the months went by Seiko and I became very good friends, going to dinner
and occasionally she would come to my Omiya Gym to train. Then one day she
was going to meet me at my gym to hang out when she called me informing me
that she had to cancel because her older sister Miyu had had a big fight with her
husband so she didn't want to leave her alone.

I suggested that she bring Miyu with her so all three of us could hang out. She
liked the idea so the both of them headed down to my Omiya Gym. Went they
got there we all went to dinner, and Miyu confided in me her problem with her
husband. We talked a lot and she calmed down, so after we finished eating they
both decided to head home to Yokohama since it was so far away.

I still felt that Miyu was a bit unstable, so I told Seiko to give her my phone
number and to tell Miyu that she could call me anytime if she ever wanted to
talk.

I went back to my apartment, did all my usual stuff, and then, just as I was about
to go to bed, Miyu called. She was hysterical and crying, telling me that this
time it didn't look like her husband would forgive her and that it looked like it
might be the end of their marriage. She seemed like she was out of control, so I
asked her if she wanted me to come over, and she said that she would really like
that.

Although Yokohama was about a 90-minute car drive from Omiya, Miyu
seemed to really need someone, so I jumped in my car and headed to
Yokohama. When I got there, because she was still officially married, instead of
picking her up at her father's house we decided to meet at a gas station. We met,
drove to a nearby park, and I listened to her problem until she calmed down. I
felt a connection to Miyu and the feeling was mutual. However, there was a
small problem. What about the friendship with Seiko? I felt caught in a storm, a
big storm that I had no clue how to get out of with everything intact. The next
week I got a call from Seiko. She told me that she had heard what had happened
between Miyu and I and that Miyu really liked me. She also said that she hoped
this wouldn't affect our friendship and wished the best for Miyu and me. So
Miyu and I began dating – despite the fact that she was still married – and kept it
very discreet and undercover. She was going through the divorce, but just the
fact that it wasn't finalized yet made me feel like we were walking on broken
glass.

With the mixture of my fame and Miyu’s fame and the circumstances we were
dating under, it was a very difficult thing to do (to date her). We would go to
events and make sure there was always someone with us; we would purposefully
not sit together and stagger seats so the press wouldn't have the opportunity to
start rumors. However, at one Rings event Miyu and I went with Seiko and John
Calvo. We naturally just took our seats and it so happens Miyu and I were
sitting next to each other. Then a reporter that covers a lot of wrestling – Mr.
Higuchi – that was an acquaintance of Miyu, approached us and informed me
that there was a reporter trying to start something up in the press room by
suggesting they get pictures of us sitting together for the weekly gossip
magazines. This was something I took very seriously, so I left my seat and
walked Mr. Higuchi to the back. I asked him to take me to the press room and
show me who the reporter was. He refused. I asked him again in a more
aggressive way, letting him know that if he didn't show me who this reporter
was, there would be problems between him and I.

He went on to explain to me that there is a “Writers Code” that you don't reveal
discussions that are being made in the pressroom between reporters. I felt that
was very hypocritical given what he’d just told us. So I insisted that he continue
what he just started by directing me to that certain reporter. He again refused,
and this time I could see by his demeanor that he wasn't going to tell me. So I
took it a step further, I grabbed him by the back of his shirt, called John Calvo to
come with me and dragged him downstairs to the toilet. When we got into the
toilet, it wasn’t empty. One guy was washing his hands while a couple of others
were at the urinal. I was angry and just blurted out for everyone to get out
now!!! Within a few seconds the toilet was empty. It was just me, John Calvo
and Mr Higuchi. I instructed John to watch the door so no one could get in and I
proceeded to drag Mr. Higuchi to a toilet stall. I roughed him up a bit and left
him in the stall flustered and terrified that more was to come.

I was then no longer in the mood to watch any more fights so we all jumped into
my car and went home.



Chapter 45: Paparazzi – Feeling of being Stalked

A couple of weeks later, a good friend in the media informed me that the media
caught wind of our relationship so to be very careful of the paparazzi. If we
were caught by the paparazzi and our affair was made public, Miyu would have
a big black mark against her and there would be a good chance she would lose
her divorce case and possibly the custody of her son. So we decided to stop
seeing each other for a whole month, only meeting up at events and with other
people around us. When things subsided we began slowly seeing each other
again very discreetly until Miyu's divorce was finalized.

We were married in a big ceremony in Hawaii. We had a very good marriage
for three years, training together and traveling all over the globe. The love her
son Rei and I shared was better than any father/son relationship I had ever seen.
We even decided to change his name to a name similar to mine. We pondered
on, Exson, Ebson, and Edson until we finally decided on, Erson. Miyu and I had
a nice relationship. We understood the sacrifices of training hard and helped
each other from training all the way to diet.



Chapter 46: Deceit – Relinquishing the Shooto Belt

I won the Shooto belt in 1997, and we ran in to a small problem. In the Shooto
rules, there is a clause that a champion needs to make a mandatory title defense
within two years or he will be stripped of the belt. I was ready to fight but
Shooto wasn't able to afford a quality fighter qualified to be an opponent for a
title match.

About a week after the Rings event, I got a call from Shooto telling me that Mr.
Higuchi called them informing them of the incident in the bathroom, telling
them he wanted to press charges. The guys that contacted me from Shooto were
Wakabayashi the Amateur Shooto director, Ogata the head referee, and Suzuki
another referee.

This would be very bad if charges were pressed. I was the Shooto Champion, so
I represented the association. Shooto told me that Mr Higuchi wanted them to
do something to reprimand me. Shooto suggested that I relinquish my belt from
my side showing remorse. They told me that it would look good in the Japanese
eyes and would actually look good for me. I believed them and waited for them
to set a date.

At the time although I was the current Shooto Heavyweight World Champion, I
was also fighting very successfully in Pride. So I voiced my concern of the
situation to Mr Sakakibara, the Vice President of Pride and he told me not to
worry, everything would be taken care of. I was relieved and informed Shooto
that everything was going to be taken care of by Pride. They seemed relived and
I thought all was taken care of.

I got a call from Mr. Noguchi, a Yakuza working with Pride and he told me that
they contacted Mr Higuchi and it’s all over. I was elated and called Shooto to
tell them the good news only to be told by them that Mr. Higuchi had called
them saying he still wants something done to reprimand me. I was confused.
Mr. Noguchi told me everything was settled, but Shooto was telling me it was
not over yet.

So I decided to take the initiative to speak to Mr. Higuchi myself in person. I
found out that Mr. Higuchi was going to be at a wrestling event so I went down
there to find him. I got to the arena and he wasn’t hard to find. So I walked
straight up to Mr. Higuchi and told him I wanted to talk to him. He looked
scared so I assured him nothing was going to happen and we went out back to
talk.

I started out by apologizing for what I did to him, then continued by asking him
if he was contacted by Mr. Noguchi. He said he was contacted and thanked me
for the apology. I was a little skeptical so I told him, “Shooto is telling me that
you still want me to be reprimanded in some way, is this true?” He looked
surprised as he said, “You and Pride apologized so as far as I’m concerned, it’s
all over.”

I was a bit disturbed that Shooto was telling me something totally different but I
was grateful to Mr. Higuchi and thanked him again. I then called Shooto and
told them that I just talked to Mr. Higuchi and he said all was forgiven. They
seemed pleased and finally I thought it was all over. However, again I got a call
from Shooto saying that now, Mr. Higuchi’s company, The Naigai Times
newspaper wanted something done.

This was now getting to back and forth so I decided to have the two sides meet.
I set up an appointment with Mr. Higuchi’s boss, picked up Suzuki, a Shooto
representative and drove to The Naigai Times head office. In the meeting Mr.
Higuchi’s boss told me that Mr. Higuchi said everything was over so he feels the
same way. Suzuki was still uneasy about it but he nodded in agreement. He
really had no choice because the plaintiffs themselves were saying right in front
of him that all was good.

Now I began to feel like Shooto was playing games with me. I hated being
played and I was determined to get to the bottom of it. Shooto kept making false
claims, so I knew once and for all I had to get all the players in one room so no
one could bullshit anymore. So, before a Shooto event Shooto scheduled a press
conference to announce my relinquishing of the belt. However, I was
determined to get all this bullshit straightened out before I actually relinquished
my belt. So I set up a meeting at 12 noon before the press conference with all
the Shooto guys, Wakabayashi, Suzuki, and Ogawa at a hotel. I then called Mr
Noguchi, the Pride Yakuza, and told him to meet me at 12:30pm at a restaurant
near the hotel I was meeting the Shooto guys at. Then I called Mr. Higuchi and
asked him also to come to the restaurant at 12:30pm too. Everything was set and
ready to go. I was going to get all three parties in the same room and they had
no clue what was happening.

The day of the meeting arrived and I drove over to the hotel to meet the Shooto
guys. They greeted me and asked me why I called the meeting. Without saying
a word, I stood up and said, “Let’s go.” They were lost but had no choice and
followed me to the restaurant. As we walked in the restaurant the Shooto guys
saw Mr. Noguchi and Mr. Higuchi and they were surprised. I then directed
everyone out of the restaurant and into the area where the press conference was
going to take place. There was still an hour, enough time to find out the truth.

I started by asking Mr. Noguchi, “You told me you talked to Mr. Higuchi and
everything was settled. Is this true?” Mr. Noguchi nodded in confirmation so I
turned to Mr. Higuchi and asked, “So it is true? Everything was settled?” Mr.
Higuchi then said, “Yes. I spoke to Mr. Noguchi over the phone and I told him
everything was forgiven.”

I turned to all the Shooto guys who all looked like they saw a ghost. I felt
betrayed, however the press conference was about to happen and we had to sort
things out fast.

I sat down and told Mr. Wakabayashi from Shooto that I no longer needed to
relinquish my belt. This problem got solved before it made it to the press. They
agreed but then Wakabayashi said, “We need to ask you for your help. The
mandatory 2-year title defense is coming up and we can’t get you an opponent
and we are going to be in a hard situation. The 2 year deadline is coming up and
in the rules we must take your belt away but we can’t because it was actually our
fault that you couldn’t make that defense.” He went on and asked me, “So we
would like to ask you a favor…can you still relinquish your belt because it
would still make you look honorable and it would help us avoid this difficult
situation.”

I really didn’t want to relinquish my belt but I really wanted to help Shooto out
of this predicament. It also didn’t seem like Shooto was going to be able to get
me a title defense for a while and I was having great success in Pride so I
figured, why not.

The press conference started and I sat there with my belt ready to face the press.
When my turn came I told the press that to show remorse for my behavior with
Mr. Higuchi I will punish myself and relinquish my belt. I then excused myself,
got up, and left the room. It was done. I was no longer the Shooto Champion
but for good reason.

Then to my surprise, in the newspapers the next day it stated that Shooto said
some disrespectful things about me, was giving me a suspension from fighting in
the Shooto ring, and they were suspending my promoters license. I couldn’t
believe my eyes. I quickly got on the phone called the Shooto association letting
them know that I was going to put my fists through their faces one by one.
Ogata never answered and Wakabayashi and Suzuki pointed the finger at Ogata.
It seemed that Ogata was the one making the calls and it was also him that talked
to the press. He avoided talking to me and I really wanted to put the hurt on him
badly, but instead, I vowed to make sure he never ever refereed in the Shooto
ring ever again…and he never did.

This however wasn’t over for me. Although Ogata was to blame and he was
punished for it, I know the rest of the Shooto commission members had a part in
it. That’s what destroyed my faith in Shooto and I knew it would never be the
same again. Until this day no one, not a single fan knew all the details of why I
relinquished my Heavyweight Shooto belt. Since then, Shooto has shown
remorse by giving me the Shooto World Championship belt to keep, and even
presented me with a Shooto World Championship ring. However, the betrayal I
felt in this incident still feels heavy in my heart and I’m still careful and keeping
my guard up.



Chapter 47: Bought My House – The House that Fighting Built

As soon as Miyu and I got married, I began looking for a house to buy. Because
Miyu had Erson from her previous marriage I was immediately stepping into a
"family" setting. Living in an apartment as a single man or even as a young
couple was okay with me but I didn't want to be a family living out of a small
apartment.

I went house shopping and looked at many houses until I found one I really
liked. It had a big yard, and unlike all the typical Japanese houses, it had a high
ceiling. The other big reason why I decided on this house was because the
previous owner had a debt that he had to pay off so was in desperation to sell
this house ASAP. This made the negotiation of the price a lot easier and the sale
was made. I was excited because I was so proud that this beautiful house was
bought through all my hard work and sweat in the MMA ring. I loved to tell
people whenever they came to visit, "This is the house that MMA built!"



Chapter 48: Norifumi Yamamoto – The Birth of "KID"

While I was dating Miyu I met her younger brother Nori. He was an exceptional
athlete, but always in trouble. He was one of the top wrestlers in Japan, with
hopes of participating in the Olympic games someday. He was a great kid and
always left in the shadows while his two famous sisters shared the spotlight.

At times it got so bad that some people didn't even know Miyu and Seiko had a
brother. He wasn't a World Champion like his two sisters, but yet he was a very
good wrestler. He was mischievous and always in trouble. When I was dating
Miyu, he was going to a big wrestling college called Yamanashi, a college far
away from home where he had to live in a dormitory.

Then suddenly one day while Miyu and I were attending a wrestling event, Miyu
got a call from Nori with some troubling news. Nori was in trouble! Miyu
began to speak louder and by the look on her face I could tell there was a
problem. She got off the phone, came directly to me, and told me that Nori
needed help. She told me that Nori was in trouble with the Yakuza.

In order to help him I needed more information so I called him to get more
details. He told me he was scared and in a restaurant hiding from the Yakuza
members. He said that a week earlier he was in town with his friends playing
with an air gun. He unknowingly shot someone in the face, unaware that he was
a Yakuza. They took the license plate number of his car and found his
apartment.

In the morning they appeared at his third story apartment looking for retaliation.
Afraid, Nori jumped from the balcony of his apartment and fled. They chased
him to where he currently hid so I advised him to stay in public until they left.
He did, but it still wasn't over. They showed up to his school and the school had
no choice but to release Nori.

They didn't want the Yakuza problem to become public so they released him
because he broke the rule of driving a car off campus during school hours.
Nori's father was also a teacher at another big university and if the story went
public, if could jeopardize his job. The Japan Wrestling Association also heard
of the incident and put Nori on probation for a whole year. This probation meant
he was not allowed to enter any wrestling tournaments for a year.



Chapter 49: Kid's New Love – MMA

A year was a long time to stay inactive so I had an idea. I suggested to Nori that
he train MMA while he was on probation to stay in shape and because MMA
incorporated a lot of wrestling so he wouldn't be rusty when it was time to return
to wrestling. He liked the idea and the very next day he joined me at my gym,
Purebred Omiya. He trained hard and I was surprised at how well he did on his
first day. His natural athletic ability combined with his wrestling skill allowed
him to hang tough with some of the seasoned fighters even getting the better of
them at times.

I was impressed but was also aware that this was still just a temporary thing.
The training was going well and I could tell that Nori was really beginning to
have a passion for MMA. Then one night at dinner when we were casually
talking about training, out of the blue Nori tells me that he wants to become a
professional fighter. It caught me off guard. I loved the passion but I was afraid
that he wasn't that serious. Training for fun and training to become a
professional fighter are two different things. I decided to cut through the bullshit
and get to the point. The next day in training I made him put on the MMA
gloves and told him that he was going to do three hard MMA rounds with me.
He was game and I was curious to see how it would go. Would he break and
rethink his desire to become a MMA fighter like so many dreamers that stepped
into my gym before or would he be able to tough it out? We went hard and I
gave him controlled ferocity and pounded him for three rounds. By the last
round, his face was bloody and swollen but the game in him was alive and well.

I was impressed and that's when I decided to change the tone of his training and
work with him full time. He moved in with me for two years and his level
improved by leaps and bounds. He travelled with me to Thailand, Guam,
Hawaii, Watanabe Gym, everywhere. Within a year he had improved so much
that I felt he was ready for his first test, the All Japan Amateur Shooto
Tournament.

He won without much of a problem, so I decided to take it a step further. I put
him into his first professional fight and decided to do it in Guam where the level
wasn't too high. The fight would be kept under cover unless we wanted it to be
known. He fought well, beating his opponent in all aspects of the fight and
finishing him off with a rear naked choke. However, he lost control. Although
his opponent was tapping for mercy, Nori held on to the choke refusing to
release it, even when the referee tried to pry the choke loose. The foul was so
flagrant that, although he clearly won the fight, they decided to disqualify him
and reward the victory to his opponent. He was also banned from fighting in
Guam by the Guam commission for a year and I decided to keep this fight quiet
for now. This was Nori's first professional MMA fight and his first official loss
on his professional record. However, because we kept this quiet, until this day
this fight is not on his official fight record.

Although Nori showed promise to be a great MMA fighter when his one year
probation period was finally up, his father demanded that he stop fighting and
come back to wrestling full time to prepare for the Olympics being held two
years later. I discussed this with Nori and he expressed to me that his love was
now fighting and he didn't want to stop. I supported his decision and to our
disappointment when he told his father, his father wouldn't stand for it. He
demanded that Nori quit fighting immediately and to return to wrestling again.

Nori defied his father, which made the father call me hoping that I would make
Nori quit fighting. I told his father that I would support whatever Nori decides
and this infuriated Mr. Yamamoto to a point that he disowned Nori. This was
unfair so I decided to take responsibility and took care of Nori. Food, bills, rent,
and I even let him use one of my cars. Although Nori's father refused to support
Nori unless he went back to wrestling, I was behind him to support him in
whatever he decided.

Nori and I were getting close. He was like my little brother and we did a lot
together. It was the year 2000. We had just finished our day of training. Nori
(Kid) and my best friend from Hawaii, Darren Suzuki, decided to go out on the
town to check out a drinking place where young hostess girls served you. My
sponsors and promoters have taken me to these drinking places for entertainment
and fun, so I rarely ever go on my own. If you're not careful, when the bill
comes you could be out $2,000 to $3,000 easy.

That night we decided to venture out on our own and headed to Omiya Station in
Saitama where a lot of drinking places were clustered. We went to a place called
Modern Times, which was in front of Omiya Station. We entered the bar, sat
down, and enjoyed conversing with the girls. Nori got a few phone numbers, I
drank my diet Coke, and Darren just sat back and enjoyed his first day in Japan.
Darren came from Hawaii to visit me and was planning to hang out with me for
about a week. It was our first night out and everything was going great. After
our hour was up instead of extending another hour we decided to move on and
check out a different bar.

As we exited the bar, we were flocked by guys trying to lure us into their bar
next. We took our time feeling each guy out to see which bar would be the best
to go to next. As I was talking to one of the guys, I suddenly heard a Japanese
guy speaking in a loud voice cussing and slurring in Yakuza language. When I
glanced over to see what was going on, to my surprise this angry Japanese guy
was directing his insults to Nori. Holy Shit!!! What's going on?

I could see that this guy wasn't just an ordinary civilian. His demeanor and
aggressive behavior went beyond an ordinary person. Now this bar was located
right in the heart of the nightlife and all his aggression and screaming attracted a
crowd curious about what the commotion was about. Then in the midst of all his
screaming, in front of the people gathered, as if he loved being in the spotlight,
what he did next just confirmed my hunches. He ripped open his shirt to display
his full body underworld tattoos screaming "Hora" Which means, "Look" in
Japanese. Then as he raised his hand to show us that he was missing his pinky
finger he said, "This is what you're fucking with!"

In Japan, when an underworld guy fucks up bad, instead of just a verbal, “I’m
sorry", which may not show enough sincerity, some like to give one joint of the
pinky finger to show remorse. They feel that anyone can blurt words out of their
mouth so a verbal apology is not a good gauge to determine if the apology is
made from the heart. However, if you cut off your finger and present it to the
person you are apologizing to, that shows that you really mean in you heart that
you regret your mistake. Giving up part of your pinky is a big sacrifice let alone
having to cut it off yourself. So now I knew two things... one, he was a Yakuza,
and two, he fucked up bad in the past.

Then Nori turned around, looked at me and asked, "Can I fuck him up?" I could
imagine that if Nori fucked up this guy bad we would have to deal with the
repercussions. Now because this Yakuza clearly informed us about his status in
the underworld, there was something good and something bad that came into
play. The good is, now whatever he does would reflect on the family.

If he fucked up in this problem, because he acknowledged his status, both he and
the family will take full responsibility to fix things. The bad thing was, that now
if I beat him up, it would also be taken as a direct insult to the family. I told
Nori "No" then asked him what happened. Nori told me that as he was standing
on the edge of the road, and although there was more than enough room to pass,
this Yakuza's side mirror bumped Nori in the ass. The Yakuza told Nori to get
the fuck out of the way and instead of shutting up, Nori replied, "What!?" The
Yakuza are accustomed to getting their way and are rarely spoken back to.

This guy was on his claimed turf and he had to save face. I was aware that this
guy was a Yakuza and had to keep his "tough guy" reputation so by all means I
wanted to avoid trouble with him so I stepped in, told Nori to step aside and I
promptly apologized to this Yakuza. Then as if he drew power from my
submissiveness he screamed at me, "Who the fuck are you?" I then said, " My
name is Enson Inoue, we don't want any problems so how about we just forget
what has happened and go our separate ways. Then, as if he didn't hear me he
screamed, "Get the fuck out of the way!" Now I was standing on the side of his
car so if he got into his car he could drive off without any obstruction from me.
He then screamed again, "Get the fuck out of my way!"

At this point I was really getting frustrated. I was being nice and respecting that
he was an underworld figure but this guy was being an absolute dick. I then
took a deep breath and repeated, "We really don't want any problems, so get in
your car and drive off." He then yelled again, "Get out of the way!!!" Now it
was obvious to me that this guy wasn't interested in resolving this confrontation
but instead was throwing a power trip on me in his turf with everybody
watching. Like a neon light in my head, like a big lit up billboard you see in Las
Vegas "What a dick!" took over my thoughts and eventually my emotions. I was
still holding back my frustration controlling my intonation and trying to stay as
polite as possible but it was obvious I was through with being nice. So in a
harsh tone I replied, "It seems that you want a problem with us...if so, why don't
you push me or physically touch me, then you'll have a problem."

He looked at me, took a deep breath, and then said, "Okay, now you pissed me
off!!! I'm going to run you over and kill you!!!" He then proceeded to instruct
all the cars that accumulated while this altercation was going on, to back up.

As I watched him getting all the cars to back up I thought, is this guy for real???
Was he really going to run me over? I had a hard time comprehending that over
a bump of his mirror, he was willing to take a life. Something told me this guy
was not thinking straight and this may be a bit dangerous, but something else
didn't allow me to believe that he would actually do it. Just in case, I gave my
wallet and cell phone to Darren, told him this nut said he was going run me over
and turned to where he was coming from to see what he had in mind. I thought,
"If this idiot tries to hurt me first, then I have a reason to fuck him up."

It took about five minutes but he finally got all the cars to move and he backed
his car up about 20 meters. He then began revving his engine like a racecar
driver, grabbed a secure hold of the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and
floored the gas pedal. He floored the accelerator pedal so hard that his back
wheel spun, burning out, not moving forward for a couple of seconds before his
car rocketed out speeding towards the first one in line, Nori. Nori stepped to the
left just as he swerved to hit him and avoided being hit head on but not enough
to move clear out of the way of this lunatic. Nori was then side swiped and
knocked down, but fortunately, he was lucky enough to avoid any major injuries.

Then next in line was Darren. In his wildest dreams, he didn't expect that
someone could be so crazy, so because he was on the sidewalk he felt safe and
had his guard down. By the time he realized that he was in danger from seeing
Nori get hit it was too late. The car had already climbed the sidewalk and was
headed directly towards him.

With no time to jump out of the way, BOOM, Darren was down, on the
pavement along with all the contents that was in my wallet scattered out around
him. Then it was my turn... Although it must have been just a few seconds for
the car to get from hitting Darren to where I was, it seemed like forever. I
remember thinking after seeing Darren get hit, "Okay, here he comes..." I got
myself ready...for what, I wasn't sure. I'd never been banged by a car before...
But here goes!!! Then his car came within six feet of where I was standing and
that's when I finally realized, "Shit...I'm going to get hit!" Without a split second
of hesitation, I jumped.