As a junior, jiyû-kumite is probably something one either enjoys or dreads. Over time, jiyû-kumite evolves into something one enjoys and dreads. No matter how skillful a student becomes, he gains an increasing appreciation for the role of seemingly random chance in the outcome of combat. A spot of sweat on the tatami, a zig instead of a zag, or a hand caught in an opponent’s gi can all decide victory or defeat in the blink of an eye. Much of being a budôka is the discipline to make every practical preparation while recognizing and accepting that we can only influence and not control the outcome of our endeavors. When classical teachers spoke of the meaninglessness of victory or defeat, I do not think they were saying we should be content to lose — a dead warrior is seldom of much use to anyone — I think the old masters were advising us to be careful of our focus. In kumite, as in life, it’s useful to keep the big picture in mind.

If a student, particularly a junior, focuses on kumite as a competition, every experience of kumite will be judged in terms of victory or defeat. This can prove very frustrating, since a junior typically faces a long road before he or she “wins” a majority of the exchanges in a kumite with a skillful opponent. It’s much more useful to view every exchange within a sparring session as an individual combat. This is “realistic,” because actual unarmed combats usually last a matter of seconds rather than minutes, and it’s also a positive perspective, because even the most junior student is able to land the first strong technique in an exchange every once in a while. Had it been a “real” fight, even against a senior, that’s an exchange the junior would have “won.” In the same scenario, it’s good for the senior to recognize that no one is unbeatable, and that even the greatest warrior can be laid low by a lucky shot.

Landing the first strong blow in an exchange is the paramount objective within the drill of kumite, and the factor which most influences our choices of strategy and technique. While it is also true we want to minimize the chance of the opponent landing his strike first, focusing efforts on defense leads to the development of a weak spirit that is satisfied to forestall defeat rather than seize victory. We are most interested in the development of a resolute spirit that manifests itself in the execution of focused, powerful, and appropriate technique. Because kumite is a simulated combat, the strictures and procedures by which we define kumite have great impact on its effectiveness as training. After years of careful consideration and experimentation, I arrived at a set of rules and principles I believe approached an optimal balance of fun and stress, challenge and accomplishment, danger and the assurance of being able to return to train again.

1) There are no restricted target areas on the body, only restrictions on the amount of contact that is permissible to particular areas: NO CONTACT to the neck and head, and to the spine; MINIMAL CONTACT to the knees and groin; MODERATE CONTACT to the abdomen and chest. Obviously, what constitutes “moderate contact” depends on the relative size, weight, and ability of the opponents. It never hurts for opponents to establish appropriate limits, before they engage.

2) After an exchange, fighters acknowledge any decisive strike(s) landed against them. They don’t need to say anything — just a quick touch to the spot struck provides positive feedback for the opponent and is a reminder to the person struck of an opening they must close.

3) Both opponents must maintain awareness of the first decisive strike landed in an exchange. While we do not want to train ourselves to stop fighting when struck, we need to recognize those strikes that, if fully expended, would likely have ended the fight. We do nothing to learn from our mistakes if, for example, we ignore a powerful gyaku-zuki that is focused one inch short of contact with our nose, and press on with our own attack. Even worse, if we inadvertently make hard contact with our “unlikely” counter-attack, we may incline our opponent toward purposeful contact the next time his punch is thrown. Kumite can quickly degrade to a brawl.

4) If, using the example above, a fighter attempts to block the gyaku-zuki and counter, but misses the block and counters anyway, a quick acknowledgment of the opponent’s strike maintains the assurance that both opponents are remaining aware of the probable outcome of each exchange.

5) Successful attacks need not end with the first, landed strike. Provided you are under control, it may well be appropriate to execute follow-up techniques.

6) Throws and takedowns are permissible when both opponents are skilled in ukemi. Recognize that while a punch or kick can be “pulled,” a throw always results in a body striking the floor. Throws are significantly more dangerous than strikes in jiyû-kumite.

7) A fighter should not follow through with a throw if the opponent counters with a decisive strike as the throw develops.

8) An engagement should continue to a decisive conclusion, even if one or both opponents end up on the ground. Carefully applied locks, chokes, strikes, or pins are all permissible. As always, “tapping out” indicates submission, and MUST result in an immediate cessation of the offense by the controlling opponent.

To compliment the rules and procedures listed above, our karatekai had a clear policy on the type of protective equipment to be used in kumite. For our purposes, it was desirable to minimize the adverse effects sparring gear imposes on technique, so we did not use hand or foot gear. There is simply no way to form a proper fist when wearing foam gloves, even if the gloves are of the small, “traditional” style. Foam boots also interfere with the correct alignment of the foot in kicking techniques, which typically leads students to switch to striking with the surface of the instep (which makes a loud noise but is nearly useless.) For both strikes and kicks, it’s imperative to concentrate all available energy into the smallest target point, which demands the use of proper form and careful attention to details.

Rather than cover our weapons, we preferred to shield our most vulnerable targets. In addition to a mouth guard and, for men, groin protection, our most distinctive piece of equipment was a hard, plastic face shield. Padded with foam, the face shield was designed to prevent cuts and disfiguring injuries from accidental contact to the head. The face shield did not significantly reduce the impact of a strike, nor did it offer any protection to the head in case of a fall.

I believed strongly in the use of face shields for one reason. All of us expect hard training and anticipate receiving lots of bumps and bruises. But while black and blue limbs and sore ribs are easily accommodated, lost teeth or a broken nose are not. I wanted to insure that “war stories” at our dôjô remained merely a topic for jokes over an after class beer, and not the subject of health insurance claims. The face shield allowed us to eschew the use of hand and foot pads while maintaining a margin of protection in case of unintentional contact.