There’s nothing inherently wrong with rank in Kyokushin. It serves as a practical way to gauge progress, set goals, and organize students and competition divisions. But in the end, the belt is just something you wear around your waist to hold your gi closed. What truly matters is the knowledge gained through training, the spirit you develop, and the kind of person the Kyokushin journey shapes you into.
Early Training in Kyokushin
My sensei was “old school.” Asking about promotion was unthinkable. Shihan Swanson held tests every six months, in March and September. I attended my first class in late 1980. The first test after I began training was in March 1981, and I was told I wasn’t ready yet. That might surprise some people today, but the reason was simple. At that time, there were no red (or orange) or blue belts—only white, yellow, green, brown, and black. That meant you stayed a white belt much longer than students do today, as the first promotion wasn’t until 6th kyu.
By September 1981, I was ready and passed my yellow belt test on the first try. Six months later, in March 1982, I earned my green belt. By that point, I’d been training for over sixteen months, and the hard work had paid off.
In September 1982, I tested for brown belt but was told I wasn’t quite there yet. I tested again in March 1983, right around the time my divorce was finalized. My sensei knew I was distracted. After the grading, he pulled me aside for what you might call a “colorful” pep talk. I’ll spare you the exact words, but the message was clear: I needed to focus and get back to work. He told me that if I showed him I was ready, he’d promote me before the next test. One month before the September test, in August 1983, I was promoted to brown belt. Two months later, I transferred back to sea duty and left Florida.
Back to Sea Duty
After arriving in Norfolk, Virginia, I lived in the barracks while waiting for USS Dwight D. Eisenhower to return from deployment. I visited a few martial arts schools but none felt right. Then I heard about a Kyokushin dojo in Colonial Heights, ninety-three miles away. At the time, I was riding a 1983 Honda CB1100F, one of the fastest production motorcycles in the world that year. My best time was seventy-three minutes (funny I still remember that). Making that trip on weeknights was, in hindsight, insane, but I did it anyway. I sometimes think it’s a miracle I survived my twenties.
Sensei Tony Wurtz made an immediate impression on me. I began training under him, riding up a couple of nights a week and on Saturdays whenever the ship was in port and I didn’t have the duty. I kept that up until October 1984, when we left on deployment.
Earning the Black Belt
I left the Navy in May 1986. I lived in my sensei’s house and started training to fight knockdown at a tournament in August, which I won. Looking back, I think that period pushed me to another level. The training was demanding, and much of the physical conditioning was done alone. People who have fought knockdown understand this. In early August, just before the tournament, I graded to shodan.
I continued living at my sensei’s house for about a year. I trained and did bag work in his backyard and ran daily through the subdivision. After grading to shodan, I was hired to teach classes at the local community college. Between teaching those classes, attending my teacher’s classes, and my own training, I was working harder than ever. In June 1989, almost three years after earning shodan, I graded to nidan.
Life moved forward. I got busy with my career, got married again, and other priorities took over. In 1991, I founded Florida Kyokushin Karate. I still trained, taught, and competed, but testing wasn’t my focus.
Kyokushin Founder Mas. Oyama Passes Away, and my Teacher Retires
Not long after Sosai Masutatsu Oyama passed away in 1994, my teacher retired from teaching due to health issues. I initially stayed with Japan and joined with Sensei Bill Richards as my branch chief. I met him in Hawaii in 1996 for Shihan Bobby Lowe’s annual seminar, a memorable trip.
Later in 1996, as the old IKO began to splinter, I decided I wanted no part of the politics and joined my branch chief in following Shihan Mike Monaco into the IFK under Hanshi Steve Arneil.
Closing My Kyokushin Dojo
After 9/11 in 2001, I made the difficult decision to close my dojo and return to active-duty military service. I continued to train over the years since. I’ve often said that once Kyokushin is in your blood, it never really leaves. More than once, I’ve visited a dojo wearing a white belt. No one knew who I was or how long I’d trained when I walked in, but it always seemed to come out after class. My teacher often told us that the truth always came out on the mat, and he wasn’t wrong.
From 2004 to 2021, I spent most of my time outside the United States. I trained when I could and occasionally showed up at tournaments to help with officiating, but for a long stretch, I had no formal organizational affiliation.
Coming Home
After returning home, I reconnected with USA-IFK and founded Texas Kyokushin Karate. In 2022, I was invited to grade to sandan. By then, it was a rank I hadn’t given serious thought to in years. Chances are, had I not chosen to serve my country, I would be a godan by now, like many of my peers and even juniors. It was an honor to be recognized with an invitation, but part of me felt that the time for that had passed. Rank simply wasn’t a priority for me anymore.
In the end, I did grade. It was no surprise that it was no picnic. I was sixty-six years old when I tested. I’m quite grateful I didn’t have a heart attack during the grading, which lasted seven hours over two days. I’m sure some of my fellow senior citizens can relate.
Does it feel any Different?
How does it feel? In many ways, the same. I have noticed there is perhaps a tiny difference in the respect given to a sandan versus a nidan. But perhaps the difference isn’t so great because I always felt respected because of my longevity in Kyokushin and age, even by those I met who were much more senior in rank. There aren’t so many of us from the old days anymore. Every year, there are fewer. In my immediate circle within the USA-IFK family, nothing seems to have changed other than my title.
Final Thoughts
Let me share a few final words on rank.
I’ve long believed that a better indicator of someone’s level of understanding in martial arts is years of training rather than the rank they wear. Especially across styles and sometimes organizations, rank alone doesn’t always tell the story. Who’s likely to have more skill—someone who earns a black belt in two years, or a brown belt who’s been training for four?
There can also be differences between organizations, as standards aren’t always the same. The higher ranks, especially above godan, are more often associated (though not always) with contributions to the organization, the number of black belts promoted, and other leadership factors. When it comes to knowledge and understanding of the art, though, time does matter.
The longer I’ve trained, the more clearly I’ve come to see that knowledge is what’s truly important, not what you wear around your waist. When you’re young, you say that, but secretly, you still want the black belt and the next promotion. When you’re older, you finally know it’s true.
Osu!
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