Fair Play: Memories aren't made of arnis
THE first time I got to learn arnis, I swore to God, I will whack anybody who will force me to learn the sport.
It was that traumatic.
We were fourth graders on a jamboree and part of the week-long program was “Kali.”
This was supposed to strengthen our inner selves. But it turned out to be our first lesson in the real world—teachers are sometimes idiots.
This harmless program led to a revolt of sorts, of 10-year-olds against our scout masters and teachers. That young kids who are trained to respect their elders could do
such thing should tell you how horrible that experience was.
For hours, we were taught what seemed to be a combination of ballet and arnis. The slow movement and the repeated drills meant that even if we started at 8 a.m., after a short lunch break, we were still at it under the afternoon sun.
We, the cub scouts, were tanning ourselves, while our instructors and DepEd supervisors were sitting pretty on the stage—as is the norm in any DepEd activity—content to shout, “back to the beginning,” whenever one of us made a mistake.
But we had enough.
So, while we were made to repeat yet another sequence, we all started shouting, “Tama na oy! Init na kaayo! Kamo daw diri!”
We never stopped until our scout masters decided to cut the program short.
Score one for the little guys!
I met arnis again in college and loathed it. I was blindsided. I studied at USC, and we had no choice when it came to PE 13 or 14. You could choose your schedule, but you’d only know whether you’d be playing with sticks, or ping pong, volleyball or basketball—on the first day of class.
I “loved” arnis in college too much, I took it twice.
When I first covered an arnis-related event back in 2000, it too, ended horribly, with two grand masters almost about to exchange blows, only to be stopped by a woman.
It was only when I saw a demonstration of arnis last year did I realize that hey, this sport isn’t just about bashing somebody’s head with a stick. (During the previous tournaments I covered, fighters, it seems, were just bashing heads.)
I finally got to appreciate its beauty. And, I learned, it’s not just about sticks.
I remember during a demonstration by Diony Canete, this grand old man, who can whup a master half his age showed the basic disarming techniques against a knife-wielding attacker.
First, he did it with two sticks, then with just one, then with just his bare hands.
I’m always skeptical with demos since I always think that in real life, the guy won’t thrust at you the way a willing demo-partner would.
So I asked him that what if an attacker would attack wildly like this...
I think, I managed to blink once, or was it twice, before my right hand ended somewhere at the back of my neck, just close to breaking point.
Diony’s son, Gerald, is also one cool customer. And if I was the USC PE teacher in arnis, I’d probably tape Gerald’s face on a dart board, and get my revenge.
Gerald, you see, is a master teacher. He’s learned more than the PE teachers have forgotten. Yet, for one semester, while at USC, he labored to learn arnis.
Why? I asked him a few hours and bottles removed after his dad’s demo. He said he just wanted to know how arnis is taught in PE.
I think I said he was nuts.
It was like Albert Einstein going back to elementary in disguise because the Greatest Mind of All Time wants to know how teachers are doing addition.
But I guess, martial arts masters, have their thing.
If I had to relive all my “arnis experience” again, I’d probably do everything I can to avoid it. But, I were to have Master Diony, or Gerald as a PE teacher, I’d sign up in a flash.
Just as long as it won’t be under the sun.
It was that traumatic.
We were fourth graders on a jamboree and part of the week-long program was “Kali.”
This was supposed to strengthen our inner selves. But it turned out to be our first lesson in the real world—teachers are sometimes idiots.
This harmless program led to a revolt of sorts, of 10-year-olds against our scout masters and teachers. That young kids who are trained to respect their elders could do
such thing should tell you how horrible that experience was.
For hours, we were taught what seemed to be a combination of ballet and arnis. The slow movement and the repeated drills meant that even if we started at 8 a.m., after a short lunch break, we were still at it under the afternoon sun.
We, the cub scouts, were tanning ourselves, while our instructors and DepEd supervisors were sitting pretty on the stage—as is the norm in any DepEd activity—content to shout, “back to the beginning,” whenever one of us made a mistake.
But we had enough.
So, while we were made to repeat yet another sequence, we all started shouting, “Tama na oy! Init na kaayo! Kamo daw diri!”
We never stopped until our scout masters decided to cut the program short.
Score one for the little guys!
I met arnis again in college and loathed it. I was blindsided. I studied at USC, and we had no choice when it came to PE 13 or 14. You could choose your schedule, but you’d only know whether you’d be playing with sticks, or ping pong, volleyball or basketball—on the first day of class.
I “loved” arnis in college too much, I took it twice.
When I first covered an arnis-related event back in 2000, it too, ended horribly, with two grand masters almost about to exchange blows, only to be stopped by a woman.
It was only when I saw a demonstration of arnis last year did I realize that hey, this sport isn’t just about bashing somebody’s head with a stick. (During the previous tournaments I covered, fighters, it seems, were just bashing heads.)
I finally got to appreciate its beauty. And, I learned, it’s not just about sticks.
I remember during a demonstration by Diony Canete, this grand old man, who can whup a master half his age showed the basic disarming techniques against a knife-wielding attacker.
First, he did it with two sticks, then with just one, then with just his bare hands.
I’m always skeptical with demos since I always think that in real life, the guy won’t thrust at you the way a willing demo-partner would.
So I asked him that what if an attacker would attack wildly like this...
I think, I managed to blink once, or was it twice, before my right hand ended somewhere at the back of my neck, just close to breaking point.
Diony’s son, Gerald, is also one cool customer. And if I was the USC PE teacher in arnis, I’d probably tape Gerald’s face on a dart board, and get my revenge.
Gerald, you see, is a master teacher. He’s learned more than the PE teachers have forgotten. Yet, for one semester, while at USC, he labored to learn arnis.
Why? I asked him a few hours and bottles removed after his dad’s demo. He said he just wanted to know how arnis is taught in PE.
I think I said he was nuts.
It was like Albert Einstein going back to elementary in disguise because the Greatest Mind of All Time wants to know how teachers are doing addition.
But I guess, martial arts masters, have their thing.
If I had to relive all my “arnis experience” again, I’d probably do everything I can to avoid it. But, I were to have Master Diony, or Gerald as a PE teacher, I’d sign up in a flash.
Just as long as it won’t be under the sun.
Comments