We hope they visit again soon.

Below is the news article from the South Wales Scorpions website about their visit to Fusion Combat and One To One Gym.

http://www.scorpionsrl.com

South Wales Scorpions took advantage of their week off from Co-operative Championship 1 action by having an intense Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) session at the Fusion Combat School in the One to One gym in Treforest last Saturday morning.

The Scorpions take on Keighley Cougars at Caerphilly RFC this Sunday (kick-off 3pm) and they believe that this intense MMA session has helped them in both their fitness and Rugby League techniques.

“We had the MMA session at the One to One gym in Treforest on Saturday which was really tough,” said Scorpions’ skipper Aled James. “There was a lot of wrestling and a lot of grappling. It’s a new technique for us which was good to try out.

“We did a full MMA circuit which was tough so, even though we didn’t play a full 80 minute Rugby League game, it wasn’t really a week off for us.

“I think the boys came out of it a lot better because they had to buy in to it, compete and basically be honest with each other. It rounded off a good week of training for us to be honest.

“We did a lot of Muay Thai and Cage Fighting and a lot of it is wrestle techniques which helps our game of Rugby League. Obviously we can’t choke people out on the field but it’s more the process of putting people on their back and keeping them there and how to counteract people trying to put you on your back so it was really positive.

“It’s more the wrestle in the ruck and controlling the ruck area. There are some little techniques that you can use to get out of certain holes that we can incorporate in our game hopefully on Sunday. We’ll touch base on that again this Saturday and make sure that those techniques are well-drilled in the players’ mindsets.

“We’d like to thank Dave Thomas the owner of the Fusion Combat School in Treforest, Andy O’Brien the instructor and Lewis Long the MMA champion for all of their help and instruction last Saturday.”

(For details on Fusion Combat School’s various membership schemes, classes and timetable call Andy direct on 07805 791260 or call Dave or Andy at One To One gym on 01443 841165.  Visit www.onetoonegym.co.uk)

Friday 3rd of June saw the introduction of Muay Thai classes into Fusion Combat School’s extensive timetable of martial arts sessions designed to combine (Fuse) and create well-rounded, confident, motivated and highly skilled MMA exponents. 

Lewis demonstrating kick defense

Along with the extensive martial arts knowledge of head instructor Andy O’Brien a Karate 5th dan with over 40 years experience, F.C.S. have also been successful in employing the help of some the finest MMA talent Wales has to offer with the likes of the superb Richard “Shaky” Shore of Tillery Combat and now Lewis Long, one of Wales and the UK’s rising MMA Stars. Despite his young years Lewis has incredible knowledge, skill and experience being an international Judo player and a prolific Muay Thai, K1 and MMA competitor.

As is usual on the first night of any class, nerves were tense as we were’nt sure how many people if any, would show up. By 7pm though the F.C.S. Reactor (as I like to call our dojo), was packed with keen and expectant martial artists, both Fusion members and newcomers.

Lewis immediately relaxed into his instructors role and demonstrated his extensive knowledge and superb skills as he ran us smoothly through drills covering; striking and kicking pad combos, clinch work, kick defenses and counters topped off with some lung busting bag and kick shield work. Two enjoyable hours soon flew by and everyone in the class went away, shattered, satisfied, excited at the prospect of sparring next weeks session and with no doubt that Lewis Long is an inspired new addition to Fusion Combat School’s coaching staff.

For details on Fusion Combat School’s various membership schemes, classes and timetable call Andy direct on 07805 791260 or call Dave or Andy at One To One gym on 01443 841165.  Visit www.onetoonegym.co.uk

The focus subject of Fusion’s monthly training revolution for this week has been;

The Side Mount – probably the best position for controlling an opponent on the ground but:

How do we attain side control? – We practised from single and double leg take-downs – passing guard to side control – controlling opponents feet when he’s on his back and you’re standing, passing to knee on chest to side control.

How do we maintain side control? – Control flow drills from both head-and-arm and double-over side control, transitioning to Kisure Kesa (cross chest), modified side mount, north-south and switching to opposite side. Controlling opponents elbow to prevent shrimp escape using knee to hip, knee to arm-pit and ripping elbow then transitioning from side-control to knee on chest when opponent bench presses you off.

How do we safely gain mount from side control? Avoiding half-guard with shin across belly, diagonal transition to high mount for g&p (God’s position as Shaky says), correct use of high step mount with hooks straight in for positional control.

What submission opportunities are available from side control? Side triangle, Americana, Kimura and elbow cup variation of straight armlock.

If pinned underneath – Escape possibilities from side control  - Shrimp escape variations, bump and spin to 4×4 and take back positions. Hip block and push to underneath 4×4 then escape using double or single leg grab and drive or sit-through to back.

Well that’s what I intended to cover in a week but we’ve still got a bit to do guys so an extra day looks on the cards before we move on to our next revolution of stand-up techniques including clinch, throws and take-downs.

It’s great to see the guys developing as grapplers and that none of them are “easy-meat” any more.   For the new guys; although you may feel as agile as a beached whale with a hangover at the moment, take a look at the how the other guys are doing now and bear in mind that not so long ago they were exactly the same.

Keep up the good work fellas and don’t forget the importance of the fitness and conditioning sessions to your fight game. More on that next!

Fusion’s Focus is not on:

Our aim and responsibility is to instil into those who are not naturally aggressive or motivated; the skills, will and drive to fight when necessary and succeed every day. When earned through hard and diligent training, these new attributes will undoubtedly change your life forever.

Fusion’s Focus is to nurture:

Definition: The process or result of joining two or more things together to form a single entity – Now that makes more sense:

Karate /karaatee/

ORIGIN – Japanese /empty hand/

A Fusion of Speed and Timing

Muay Thai (มวยไทย)/moo.ay.tie/

• noun - a hard martial art from Thailand. It is similar to other Indochinese styles of kickboxing, namely pradal serey from Cambodia, tomoi from Malaysia, lethwei from Myanmar and Muay Lao from Laos. Descended from muay boran, Muay Thai is Thailand’s national sport.

A Fusion of Brutal Striking & Honour

Pugilism (py j -l z m)

• noun (Individual Sports & Recreations / Boxing) the art, practice, or profession of fighting with the fists; boxing (From Latin pugil, pugilist)

A Fusion of Conditioning & Courage

• noun - The sport or activity of grappling with an opponent and trying to throw them down to the ground

A Fusion of Incredible Flexibility & Athleticism

Judo - /joo-doh/

• noun - a sport of unarmed combat derived from ju-jitsu, using holds and leverage to unbalance an opponent

ORIGIN – japanese /gentle way/

A Fusion of Strength & Agility

Brazilian Jiu Jitsu /joo jitsoo/

• noun – is a martial that focuses on grappling and especially ground fighting. The art was derived from the japanese sport of judo in the early 20th century.

ORIGIN – japanese /gentle skill

A Fusion of Strategy & Patience

Definition: The process or result of joining two or more things together to form a single entity:

Karate + Muay thai + Pugilism + Wrestling + BJJ – -> MMA + blood + sweat + tears + dedication x 10 + courage x 10 + camaraderie x 10 + commitment x 100 =

Fusion Combat School

SIMPLE

‘So be good FOR GOODNESS SAKE!’

‘Too late Jimmy boy! You’ve already been such a naughty boy.’ my conscience snipes before mockingly bursting into song itself.

‘Take the straight and narrow path, and if you start to slide, Give a little whistle! Give a little whistle! And always let your conscience be your guide.’

‘Ah! PISS OFF JIMINY!’

But Jiminy is not listening. Jiminy has taken control of my thoughts and is on a roll. Painfully he continues needling my conscience with that same simple question.

 ‘How did you end up here?’ it stabs my soul with painful shards of loss, regret, sorrow and guilt.

‘How did you end up here?’

Getting his kicks by piercing my thoughts he explodes into my intoxicated brain and bounces deafeningly around it; screaming and crashing, from ear to ear to frontal lobe.

‘How did you manage it Jimmy? How did you end up here? You fucking idiot!’

‘Language Jiminy!’ I say out loud trying to lighten the moment but it’s too late.

I hate myself.

Half past three on another sun-drenched and sweltering, 1976 summer’s afternoon. Today is of massive significance, anticipation and joy for all Cardiff school children; it’s the last day of the summer term. YES!

Judging by the flushed and flustered expression on a now seriously floundering Miss Davies, it’s blatantly obvious that this is also a day that school teachers look forward to in equal measure to us kids. As was tradition, we had been allowed to bring our own games in to school to keep us entertained and our teachers hassle free. The imminent arrival of the six week holiday was all too much though, and the majority of our class had been nigh on uncontrollable. So albeit unintentionally; we had successfully managed to physically and mentally drain our wonderful teacher.

Ah, Miss Davies; Miss Davies was tall, everyone is when you’re nine years old; Miss Davies was very slim and graceful, moving around the classroom like a ballroom dancer; Miss Davies had long shining black hair that cascaded down her back in waves; occasionally it would fall across her face so that she would toss her head back to remove it like the woman in the Silverkrin adverts. With the delicate facial features of a porcelain doll, she reminded me of Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady; and they were both the focus of my boyhood romantic fantasies; along with Angela Jones, the prettiest girl in our class of course.

 On many occasions she had caught me…

‘Jimmy’…

… gazing up at her…

‘Jimmy’

… open-mouthed, awestruck and entranced …

‘Jimmy’

… as her voice carried around the classroom as softly as an angel’s kiss…

‘James Gallagher!’

‘Huh! Yes Mum!’

My cheeks glowed brightly as I realised my mistake and the whole class burst into fits of hysterical laughter and finger-pointing. I’d been caught again, mesmerised by the beauty of Miss Davies but worse still, I’d committed that most embarrassing of classroom gaffs; I’d called my teacher “Mum”! Surely this couldn’t get any worse; I lifted the lid of my desk, took refuge behind it and prayed for the end of day bell to ring.

 They dubbed it the long hot summer; the longest, hottest and driest since records began. Tarmac melted in the roads; a hosepipe ban was implemented and duly ignored as sales of paddling pools and garden sprinklers went through the roof. Just in case the rare nature of the weather had somehow gone unnoticed, news reporters fried eggs on car bonnets and pavements to clarify.

The Outlaw Josey Wales was the movie to see, unless like me you were a nine year old, then Bugsy Malone or Alice in Wonderland were the flicks of parental choice. The ice man, Bjorn Borg had won his second Wimbledon title with Chris Evert taking the ladies crown; and in good old British fashion, a novelty band called The Wurzels held the number one spot in the UK pop charts with a song title of a uniqueness yet to be surpassed; ‘I’ve Got A Brand New Combine Harvester’.

The summer holiday of ‘76’ began for me, as I’d imagine it did for most pre-pubescent boys, with the promise of fun, adventure, lie-ins and ice-cream. I could look forward to lazy days, building sand castles and burning to a crisp on Barry Island beach with my Mum and sisters. In this time of innocent ignorance, before high factor sun-cream and today’s heightened pervert awareness; the beach front would be crammed with a glimmering, coconut oiled, writhing mass of bodies and naked toddlers would be allowed to wander freely in the murky shallows. Barely an inch of sand would be visible beneath the towels, deckchairs, discarded crisp packets and fish and chip wrappers.

On the weekends, if Dad wasn’t too busy with his business, he might take us boating on Roath Park Lake followed by an ice-cream and an hour in the adventure park. These were the fun days before the constraints of Health and Safety regulations; before the advent of our compensation nation, pouncing injury lawyer infested, ‘Nanny State; before conkers and British Bulldogs were banned from our school yards; and Roath Park had a huge slide with a bump half way down that would send you gloriously air born. With a fearlessness that only a child possesses, I’d slide down head first on my tummy, so that for just a moment, I was Superman. Launching myself from the top I would shout, “Is it a bird? Is it a plane?” and with precision timing as I hit the bump, “NO! It’s SUPERMAN!” Arms outstretched and fists clenched, I would save the world again!

If we nagged him enough, perhaps Dad would walk us around the park’s gardens to the arboretum; a miniature rain-forest in the middle of Cardiff. There I could play at being a great white hunter in a quest to find the legendary giant gorilla King Kong, whilst imaginary cannibals, skulking behind huge carnivorous plants, looked hungrily upon us, aiming their poison-darted blowpipes in our direction.

Then Dad and I could spend a precious half an hour passing a rugby ball around and play-argue over which of us were Gareth Edwards. Dad would succumb to my protests and agree to be Jean Pierre Rives, which took a fair stretch of the imagination as he was as bald as the day he was born and the legendary French flanker’s trademark was his long blonde hair! Full time would inevitably be called on our game when my baby sister, Louise, who was only three in 1976, grew weary and would be in desperate need of a hug from her Mum.

But what I longed for most of all from this holiday was one of Dad’s infamous Brecon Beacons expeditions. Infamous and usually met with moans and protestations as Dad always insisted that we men climbed Pen Y Fan, the highest peak in South Wales. Not by the easy, direct route up from Storey Arms either; Oh no, ex-army man that Dad was, he’d haul us around the twelve mile route from Neuadd reservoir, taking in the three peaks of Crybin, Pen-y-Fan and Corn Du; which, when you’re eight, or seven, or six years old as I had obviously been in previous years, is a bloody long way!

Truth be told though, Dad would inevitably hoist me onto his broad shoulders and carry me much of the way around; but this year was going to be different. I was looking forward to it like never before, determined to complete the hike unaided.  Why this sudden enthusiasm?

Sir Chris Bonington and his team had conquered the South West face of Mount Everest in the autumn of 1975 and he was now my absolute hero. I had faithfully followed the expedition, captivated by his weekly reports on the BBC’s children show, Blue Peter. For so long I had dreamed of being Steve Austin, the world’s first bionic man, but now that had changed; my new childhood dream was to be a great mountaineer and conquer the mighty Everest.

Yes. I had it all planned out, the summer of 1976 was going to be a memorable one.

They say ‘Be careful what you wish for’ don’t they.

Allah: The same as God but terrorists seem to really like him.

Jesus Christ: Someone I was made to sing about in school too – in December his songs heralded the coming of Santa Claus.

Buddha: Happy little fat dude – his followers are kick-ass martial artists!

If I have offended with any of the above statements – GET OVER IT! I can assure you that I am not really that ignorant about the various religions. I am just making the point that I don’t believe I have a religious fibre in my body. I understand that religion brings comfort and meaning to life and death for millions of people throughout the world.   They burn incense and chant, ring bells and hold extravagant festivals, circumcise their children and wage wars in their various gods names; so yes, it must be very important to them indeed; but it’s just not for me, never has been.

I do however have a fascination with the world’s religions and while away many an hour scouring the Discovery Channel for documentaries on the End of Days, The Rapture and the Romans. There is no doubt in my mind that The Holy Bible is the best story book ever written; with tales of incredible violence and sex, death and sex, insanity and incest (isn’t that sex?), the Beast and the wrath of a quite merciless God; unless of course you happen to be one of the chosen few.

Being a karateka I have a passing interest in the Asian and Japanese religions of Taoism, Shinto and Buddhism, as many of their peaceful, pagan- like beliefs, are entwined in the philosophies of Karate. Buddhism is probably the most appealing of all the religions to me with its five promises of; not to harm a living thing; not to steal; not to be greedy; not to drink alcohol or use drugs, being at least achievable compared to the demands of some other religions. I’m afraid though, one of those promises is just too much to ask of me. I do enjoy a cold bohemian style beer!

So there we have it, I have firmly established that I am not a God or god (s) fearing man.

Peculiar then, that when tragedy came barging through my family’s door, I’d very often catch myself saying a prayer or hoping for a miracle; having whole conversations with, I don’t know who, perhaps one or all of the guys mentioned above.  It mattered not to me, which deity might respond; Muslim, Hebrew, Christian or Voodoo; I decided to keep my options open knowing that desperate times require desperate measures; I was just exercising my right to a little hopeful hypocrisy.

As expected, my prayers, wishes and sacrificial rituals were all in vain.

By the time a correct diagnosis had been made it was already too late for Lee. She knew it and tried to keep it hidden behind a mask of unbelievable bravery and courage; but I could see it in her eyes from the beginning; she knew it was just a matter of time.

Whilst those closest to her frantically rallied about treading on egg shells, doing their best to keep a positive attitude for her and avoid any talk of death or dying if she was within earshot; I swear that, quite incredibly, she was doing exactly the same for us. Determined to be with her children for as long as possible and with an often strained but always stunning smile, she fought to keep the family pecker up.  Going through months of chemotherapy and painful trial treatments she stalled the growing blackness within her for as long as she could. 

I have dwelled upon this for many, many, hours and I am absolutely convinced that Lee eked out as many moments as possible from what little remained of her cruelly shortened existence, so that we; her family and her children, could properly prepare for the fact that she would soon be gone. Christmas at Samantha and John’s 2009 was to be her last and the greatest in living memory; even her last birthday spent at Velindre Cancer Hospital, though bitter-sweet in flavour, brought together a family gathering rarely seen, creating an eternally precious memory for those of us there.  

Far left Lee displays her infectious smile

 “Only the good die young.” Is that from a film, a book or a poem? I don’t know and I care even less. As far as I’m concerned, whoever coined that phrase was absolutely spot-on. Today, June 27^th 2010 is my sister’s forty-ninth birthday and, in around a month’s time, it will be the first anniversary of her death at the hands of cancer; an undiscerning, indiscriminate and evil fucking bastard of a disease that  has nothing short of ravaged our and countless other families.

I won’t spew the usual post-mortem rhetoric of what a fine, upstanding, wonderful and beautiful person my older sister was because unless you knew her it will mean nothing to you; and hey, let’s be honest here, we’ve all been to funerals of people we’ve known to be of questionable character where the eulogy is so shining that you wonder if you’ve turned up on the wrong day.

So instead, think about this; Lee was no more ordinary or extraordinary, no more happy or sad, no more good or bad and no more special or precious than your sister, brother; father, mother; or daughter or son, is to you. Lee was a human being and like all of our species she had a multitude of faults, had made many mistakes and wasn’t perfect by a long chalk.

To the wider world then, there was nothing special about her at all; but to her children, she was a mother and therefore irreplaceable; to my parents she was their daughter and first-born, therefore precious beyond belief; to me and Samantha, she was our big sister and we took it for granted that she’d always be there; and to the rest of the family she was our Lee. Now she is gone forever. .. Hasn’t she?

In the year that has passed since her death, Lee has become a grandmother to Ruby-Lee and an aunt to our little sister’s second child, Matilde. If I were a religious person, I would perhaps believe that a part of Lee is reincarnated within these two new additions to our family; that divinity has granted her soul a right of transmigration into them. If I had some kind of faith I’d have the comfort of believing that she’s up there somewhere; in Heaven, Nirvana or even Valhalla and that she has the back of our family’s newest members; a guardian angels protective hand upon their tiny shoulders. Hmm, I like that idea so I’ll keep the option open and exercise a little more of that hopeful hypocrisy.

But of course a part of Lee is in them and I don’t need religion to believe it. They are of the same fine stock, the same family, the same blood and there are inevitably going to be moments when; a certain look or mannerism; a smile or sound of laughter; a frown or gesture; will remind us all of their Grandma or Auntie Lee and we will knowingly share a glad-sad smile or glance.

Lee wasn’t a religious person either but she was spiritual, educated, well read and I think she would have liked this:

The music she chose to be played at her funeral was Starlight by Muse which, combined with my contemplating her death, triggered a line of thought regarding the possibility of reincarnation or the afterlife.

A scientific fact is that all of the matter in the universe, including human life is born of stars. Violently igniting and dying stars create the matter required to build everything, including planets and on extremely rare occasions, life; it’s how we all got here. Sometime in the distant future our local star, the Sun, will expand and explode in a glorious super nova, creating heavy elements like silver, gold and lead, that’s how they got here; obliterating its solar system and blasting the remnants into the cosmos.

Amongst that debris will be the remains of the entire human race. Millennia of human matter that the planet has absorbed through wars, disease and nature’s cycle, will be cast out into the endless depths of space. I respect wholly, the religious beliefs of others, but for me I need only look to nature for my miracles.

Through nature we will all one day be reincarnated in some form or another; though, perhaps recycled is a more accurate description. Millions or billions of years into the future, which is but seconds in the life of the universe, we could be; a particle of gas, a molecule of water, a bug, a leaf, a little green man, even a brief moment of intense energy in the life of a new star. Who knows, we could even be human again; we could even be us again; life caught in an infinite cycle of creation, destruction and recreation.

So don’t sweat the small stuff because if you can’t get everything done today; you can do it in a billion years or so!

It was just a thought for those of us without the comfort of faith; but as an extra death insurance policy and just in case there is an omnipresent, benevolent One controlling our destinies; I’d recommend that in desperate times when all other options appear redundant; exercise your right to little hopeful hypocrisy and make a little wish, say a little prayer, or drone out a Buddhist chant. But please, whatever else you do, do not make any sacrificial offerings!

“Far away, this ship has taken me far away, far away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die” Muse, Starlight.

Great song, shit lyric; because you’re never far away in our memories sis.

When you buy The Little Bubishi: A History of Karate For Children, you will be donating to the pioneering work of Velindre Cancer Hospital Trust.

www.littlebubishi.com