As WingTsun is only a part of my martial arts life, I shall not only discuss WingTsun but also Judo, which I practiced previously. However, since this essay is intended for my 1st Technician grade in WT, the focus will be on my development in WingTsun. For space reasons I shall refrain from discussing Escrima, which I also practice and began at the same time. Escrima training will only be briefly mentioned to the extent that it influenced my WingTsun. As the title of this essay indicates it is also and above all about combat, for which WT was specifically developed. My martial arts history would therefore be incomplete without a description of my – albeit limited – fighting experiences.

For reasons of clarity I have taken a systematic, chronological approach, beginning with the phase before WT. I shall then concern myself with the time since I began learning WingTsun, separating this phase into two parts – an "inside school" and "outside school" part. Finally I shall attempt a summary and outlook.

The time before WingTsun

At the age of six I was enrolled in a Judo class at the local sports club. I trained there for four years until I broke my left forearm performing a flying roll, which ended my Judo career. I had really wanted to learn Karate and tried to persuade my mother to let me join a class, but she was absolutely against this. In her view I should learn a self-defence method that would enable me to get the better of the opponent without hitting him, and preferably without injuring him at all. Since she knew that Judo manages without kicks and blows, using only locks, throws and sweeps, she enrolled me in a Judo class – which I was initially not at all happy about. This changed when I learned that a neighbour had also attended Judo classes. He showed me a few throws and thereby convinced me how "effective" the techniques were, though I must add that the neighbour in question was ten years older than I.

After just a short time I intuitively realised that the "effectiveness" of Judo disappears if one is confronted with a larger, heavier and stronger opponent. During training the opponent would often play along, however, allowing himself to be thrown and armlocked, choked and swept, which meant that I easily forgot that many of the techniques so "effective" in training were useless and did not work in a real confrontation. Accordingly my training was also of no use in the school playground, either during horseplay or serious disagreements. Particularly during the latter I was always helpless when attacked, and as I was seldom attacked by physically weaker boys, my Judo was of no use to me. Lack of confidence in the effectiveness of the techniques also meant that I lacked the most important thing in a fight, namely self-confidence. This in turn meant that I was unable to prevail even against physically smaller opponents, who are often particularly aggressive to compensate for this disadvantage. During a confrontation with a smaller, weaker opponent at the age of eight or nine he screamed something at me, kicked me in the groin and the fight was over before it had properly begun.

My awareness of my inability to defend myself had one particular effect: I increasingly gave ground whenever a situation threatened to escalate, and made concessions I did not really want to make. For example when I was about fourteen, a fellow who was accompanied by two friends told me to pass him my tobacco so that he could roll himself a cigarette. I would not have objected in principle, but disliked the manner in which he made not a request but an insolent demand, with the latent threat of trouble if I refused. In short, I was unable to be myself. Together with my "good" upbringing, which had taught me to resolve conflicts with words rather than fists, my lack of confidence in my ability to defend myself meant that it was I who gave way when things got serious. Which in turn led to a further loss of self-confidence.

I do not want to give the impression that I was permanently scared and regularly beaten up. In fact the above incidents were almost the only ones I experienced between the ages of six and sixteen, and were clearly the exception. However as a result I became tense in potentially dangerous situations and appeared even less capable than I was, which led me to avoid such situations for fear of being out of my depth. My quality of life suffered accordingly. All in all, my bad experiences with Judo and the stories I heard about Karate led me to look down on Budo styles a little and consider martial arts such as boxing and kickboxing to be the realistic styles.

My way to WingTsun

I first came into contact with WingTsun at about the age of sixteen, when a friend who had moved into the area from Munich told me about it. He quickly found himself a local WT school and started telling me more and more about WingTsun, as we were classmates at school. I was immediately impressed by the chain-punches, which I saw as a simple solution to most attacks. Even though I only heard fragments of WingTsun theory, these almost always appeared logical to me at once: no defence but rather a counter-attack; not working against the opponent's strength, but with it; given a choice of techniques, the simplest is the best, etc.. In addition two things made WingTsun particularly attractive to me. Firstly, training in a T-shirt, pullover and street shoes on a wooden floor or carpet rather than barefooted on a mat wearing a gi, as this was much closer to reality. Secondly – and this was much more important to me – WingTsun appeared to be very undogmatic and non-hierarchical. In view of the liberal/anarchistic philosophy I was following at the time, a hierarchical, dogmatic structure would have been intolerable to me. Although WingTsun appealed to me very much, mental laziness meant that I had not yet decided to learn it.

That changed when I was eighteen, following a confrontation with two lads of about the same age. I no longer know what caused it, but I was having a conversation with one of my friends, who turned away when things started, leaving me practically alone to face the two of them. Realising that in a fight with two or more opponents one cannot even rely on one's friends, it became clear to me that I should at least make sure I could rely on myself. Accordingly I began to learn WT in February 1997.

My way with WingTsun

My first visit to the WT school in Troisdorf began with a surprise, as my Si-Suk Andreas Geller does not match the image one might have of a WingTsun teacher. Although I had only come to watch, I was nonetheless so fascinated by the lesson that I immediately took part.

I passed the 1st and 2nd SG grades without major problems, being examined for the 2nd SG and all further even-numbered grades by Sifu Hans Remmel. The first major hurdle was the programme for the 3rd SG. Because of the higher expectations in terms of coordinated movements in the Lat-Sao programme this was the first time I asked myself whether WT was the right thing for me. Whereas I quickly came to terms with the first and second student programmes, it took me some time to become familiar with the third programme. Once I had overcome this first "crisis", however, I was even more keen to learn WT.

While the fourth and fifth student grade programmes were more to my taste, I delayed taking the examination for the fifth SG for some considerable time. The reason was the free-fighting aspect of this examination, for which I simply did not feel ready. I would not say that I was afraid of free-fighting in itself, as very little could go wrong with protective clothing (padded vest, helmet, mitts etc.) and close supervision. Looking back I think I was rather afraid of performing badly and obviously getting the worst of it, which would have involved a certain degree of humiliation. At any rate I delayed the examination for as long as possible, until my Si-Suk finally ordered me to take it.

The seventh student grade programme was another low point. I had particular problems with Chi-Sao, and as in the case of the third SG I considered giving up WT. Somehow I resolved to continue training and took my 7th SG examination. During the examination I had to stand in the middle of a circle formed by five or six fellow-students, who were allowed to attack me as they pleased. Although I was really nervous to start with, I acquitted myself well and definitely enjoyed the experience. I felt at ease with myself. In that respect this examination proved a turning-point.

The eighth and ninth student grade programmes presented me with little difficulty, quite unlike the tenth. Here the fact that I was the only one training for the tenth grade made itself seriously felt. I had always been alone at the relevant level since the 5th SG, and since then there had only been one or two others with higher grades, but that had not really hampered my progress. Now it was different, for since the others all wanted to practice their own programmes I was never able to devote more than ten minutes of a class to my own, with the result that it took me one year to achieve the 10th student grade. However reaching the 10th SG increased my self-confidence enormously, for if you have a good chance of beating several opponents at once you can certainly manage one.

The twelfth student grade programme was once again a challenge. Owing to my Escrima training the applications in the eleventh were quickly familiar to me, and I also found the palm-stick techniques in the twelfth relatively easy. The "control and restraint" methods were more difficult though, as were the responses to being threatened with a firearm. In the former case because I was simply no longer used to not striking, and it took me some time before I had this reflex under control. The second initial difficulty with control and restraint was in bringing physically stronger people under control properly without hitting them, particularly if they offered resistance. It took me some time to realise that it is perfectly in order for the control and restraint methods to cause the opponent pain. The main problem I had with the responses to firearms was in imagining that the unloaded blank-firing pistol was a real gun. The examination for the 12th student grade was the most exhausting I have ever taken. After two ten-minute sessions of Chi-Sao and Lat-Sao with Sifu Hans, followed by chain-punching on the wallbag, knee and elbow strikes on the sandbag, squats, sit-ups, push-ups, the Lap-Sao/punch drill, Pak-Sao/punch drill, attack by several armed and unarmed opponents, palm-stick against random attacks, control and restraint against random attacks, fighting my way up from the floor three times and guarding a door, I passed the examination. Afterwards I really felt that I had achieved something.

My WT also benefited from the Escrima training I was doing at the same time. Firstly in terms of motivation, i.e. whenever things were not going too well in WT and I had trouble in maintaining my enthusiasm, Escrima compensated for this and provided the motivation to stick to my training. Escrima is also a good comparison for WT. Many of the concepts and strategies are identical, which means that one gets a good eye for what works and what doesn't. Escrima also increases one's ability to concentrate on the target and fight aggressively, while training the eye better. And finally Escrima complements WT very well, as the WT weapons are only taught at a very advanced stage but one might at any time be confronted with armed attackers. Being able to defend oneself with an umbrella or ashtray is better than being unarmed in such a case. I think the combination of the two has been very useful for me.

I have not has much experience where actual self-defence situations are concerned. Nonetheless, or perhaps because of this, I will briefly describe what happened. During the first incident I held the fifth or sixth student grade. An acquaintance of mine who was an amateur boxer came into conflict with a drunk outside a bar. The whole thing started with verbal abuse as usual, then the drunk suddenly slapped my friend around the face and let fly with insults. My friend brought his guard up and retreated a little, whereupon I went forward and shoved the attacker against a wall, from which he rebounded even more angry than before. Presumably owing to his condition – as I have said, he was completely drunk – he had no idea who had propelled him against the wall and promptly attacked another friend of mine who was just leaving the bar and was taken completely unawares. The drunk quickly had him in a headlock, so I pulled his head back with a double Jam-Sao, which immediately made him release his victim and start to lash out wildly in an attempt to free himself. I let him go and gave him a double palm-strike on the chest. I must have done this at just the right moment, for he literally took off and struck his head on the bumper of a parked car. When he did not get up at once my heart began to race, and the five or six seconds during which he was unconscious seemed like an eternity. I was greatly relieved when he came to again. Although blood was flowing freely from a large gash on the back of his head he wanted to continue the fight, but was finally dragged away by his girlfriend who had just come out of the bar.

This, the first and only more serious confrontation I had since starting WT, made a few things clear to me. Firstly that it is always better if you are able to rely on yourself, for when the trouble started there were a number of people whom I knew standing around, but nobody did anything. Not necessarily because they did not want to, but perhaps because they simply did not know how to react or do something. Secondly that a fight avoided is a fight won. This is a mantra I have heard ever since I started learning WT, however only hearing it in training is very different from actually being confronted with the consequences of a fight. In this case, the fact that my opponent remained lying on the ground after his impact with the car bumper. Thirdly that if it comes to a fight, finish it quickly and uncompromisingly. Instead of obeying the fourth fighting principle and following my opponent, I did not immediately follow up but remained standing there, which meant that he was able to recover and launch another attack. Fortunately this mistake had no serious consequences. Apart from the fact that the probability of being struck increases the longer the fight lasts, my opponent would also have had time to draw a weapon or call on his friends inside the bar for help. And fourthly that training and reality are two different thing. Adrenalin gives you a totally different perception of what is happening. Some things work better during training, others do not. For example during training I had no problem following my opponent, but in the street it did not even occur to me to follow up. On the other hand the double palm-strike was very effective – more effective than I would ever have thought during training. At any rate the incident had a positive effect on my attitude to training.

WingTsun forever? (Conclusion)

I only had one reason for starting WingTsun: I wanted to learn how to defend myself. Although this is still the central aspect for me, it has been joined by others over the course of time. These include the philosophy of WingTsun, for example. I find Taoism particularly interesting. Since (western) philosophy is one of my subsidiary subjects as a student, WingTsun provides me with a good opportunity to familiarise myself with a few Far Eastern philosophies – in both theory and practice.

WingTsun has had direct personal effects on me as well, however. I believe it has made me generally more laid back and relaxed, also mentally. Since I have been learning WingTsun I get annoyed less easily, my self-confidence has grown and I try to use the fighting and strength principles in other areas as well, for example during discussions. I can therefore say that WingTsun has also had a positive influence on my life outside the realm of self-defence.

At the beginning I mentioned that I dislike hierarchical structures per se, and even if WT may appear to be extremely hierarchical at first glance, a closer look reveals that this is only superficial in my opinion. It is a maxim that WT begins very formally and ends without form – that WT teaches you independence. The aim is therefore to develop the student to be independent and unleash his potential, which is in line with the aim of classic liberal thinkers such as Wilhelm von Humboldt. Neither is the authority exercised by the instructor in contradiction to this. In the words of Michail Bakunin: "I bow to the authority of specialists, as common sense dictates that I should do so. (...) I receive and I give, such is human life. Everybody is at times a guiding authority and at times a follower." Accordingly if I want to learn WT, I turn to someone who is advanced in this area. "I listen to the specialists carefully, but for all their intelligence, character and knowledge I reserve the indisputable right to critical examination." And that is also my attitude during training. If something is unclear to me or I have not understood, I ask, and so far almost all my questions have been answered. However I also try to answer questions for myself, to make connections between the new and old, to find my way through and thereby improve.

As I want to become better and not worse I shall continue to persevere with my training in the future, in line with the saying by Calvin Coolidge: "Nothing in the world can replace perseverance. Certainly not talent – nothing is as common as unsuccessful people with talent. And not genius either – unrecognised geniuses are proverbial. Only perseverance and determination are all-powerful."

Felix Schönfelder