It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, one that I could have just as easily spent loungin' around on the sofa watching cartoons and sports. Instead, several of my students and I headed to T-Town to an informal get together between several martial arts schools. We arrived at the dojo and found it full upstairs and down of a hodge-podge of martial artists, mostly in their own cliques just kind of doin' their own thing. Social butterfly that I am, I made the rounds introducing myself and schmoozing the locals. My students wandered downstairs without me.

After I'd finished my round of polite chitchat and comparison of pedigrees, I slipped downstairs to see what kind of mischief my students had found. Just wearing gi pants and a t-shirt and not flying any rank, I managed to blend in and watch quietly as one of my students bounced off the floor a number of times, at the hands of this strange little man wearing one of those conspicuous Master belts. I'd been around the block a few times and had seen plenty of guys sporting the flashy belts, many of which had ordered them out of the Century Martial Arts Catalogue. I was unimpressed. As I continued to watch, my best student being dribbled across the floor like an over-inflated basketball, I began to become interested. Suddenly this weird little man, was asking my student "Who's your 'structor ? I usually only work with black belts." After having witnessed the drubbing my best student had just taken, I was hesitant to make any bold proclamations. However, being young, confident and pretty damned full of myself, I strode forward and boasted, "I'm his teacher."

The little old man looked me over briefly. He too seemed unimpressed. "Come 'ere skinny. Let's see what'cha got ?" Well, I was gonna show him, what I had all right. The old man launched into a series of committed attacks, testing to see how I would react. Self-defense was always one of my strong suits, so I dug into my arsenal and whipped out appropriate responses for each attack. Well, they would have been appropriate, on a normal human anyway. Somehow this smiling, little man seemed to never quite be where he should have been. After each attack, he'd mumble something like "That's not bad, now I'll show you my technique. Attack me….HARD." It seemed only sporting of me to let the li'l fella have his go at it. So I launched an assault at him. Next thing I knew I was staring uncomprehending up at the lights. I stood up and he hollered, "Again…faster now." Okay I thought, ask and ye shall receive. I swung again, and before I knew it, I was chewing on the carpet. Although young, I was not inexperienced. However, I had never experienced Archie before. Again and again, I'd find my way to my feet, only to have him goad me into another attack. "This time I show you the bear" Same result, me, lying flat on my back, wondering how I got there. Up again, "Now I show you the snake". Down again. Up. "Now I show you the dragon." Down. I began to empathize with all the yo-yos of my youth. He made his way through all of the conventional animals, then began extemporizing with the rest of the zoo. The old man laughed with something akin to glee every time I managed to find my way back up again, however briefly it might last. Eventually, I noticed that we had gathered quite a little crowd of observers. I was beginning to believe he had studied under the likes of David Copperfield or Doug Henning, for what he was doing seemed as miraculous as disappearing elephants. I was beginning to grow tired, mostly from the efforts of standing myself back up so frequently. He wasn't even breathing hard. He then had me pin him against the wall in a two-handed choke. He reached up and barely touched me with a fingertip and I found myself literally flying across the room, only to land with a dull thud.

About then, this big jock-type, who looked like he ate steel cheerios for breakfast, sauntered up. "Sure you can toss that little guy around, but what about me?" The little man's smile never wavered. "I dunno, let's see?" He prompted the muscle-bound gorilla to choke him as I had. The big man casually grabbed him with one hand. The funny little man said, "Choke me, HARD." The pile of muscles shrugged and squeezed hard. The little man looked somehow disappointed. He flexed his neck and the big guy's hand just dropped. "I said choke me HARD, use both hands, show me some respect, sir" Annoyed, Sir Liftalot wrapped two suitcase-sized hands around his throat and began squeezing. "Hard!" prompted the odd little man. Veins began to pop out of the larger aggressor's temple and forearms. I began to worry about the safety of the nice man who had recently been using me as a dummy. Slowly, but quite deliberately, the old man lifted a single index finger towards the now straining jock. From our vantage point, it appeared that the finger barely brushed the man's neck, but suddenly he exploded across the floor. My students and I smiled smugly. The big man, jumped up and said these fateful words, words I would hear more times than I care to remember over the next few years. "You can't do that again!" He lunged at the frail appearing old man. Another flash of fingertips and again he was rolling end-over-end across the room. It turns out he was a faster study than many I would witness in years to come.

The little man, turned back to me as if we had never been interrupted and resumed my lessons in humility. It wasn't until much later that I would discover, it was my willingness to let him abuse and humiliate me again and again and again, that he chose to truly teach me. It turned out, that was in fact my interview to begin formal training with this weird, little Yoda-like teacher.

Before I knew it, it was getting rather late. Most everyone else had already changed and headed home for dinner. Already quite sore, I was still eager for more instruction, but the little smiling man, simply handed me a piece of paper with a phone number and address written on it. The simple legend said "Archie". He said, "Come to my house next Saturday at 9am, bring your best students." Somehow I understood, that this was not a casual offer, nor one that was offered to many. I bowed stiffly and promised to be there.

All the way home, and for the next several days, I pondered the many sore spots, scattered seemingly randomly across my body. Trying in vain to draw some hidden message from them. I also studied the nondescript looking scrap of paper, with the inauspicious name of "Archie" written across it. Hardly the kind of name you'd typically associate with a Master of the martial arts. Then again, Archie was hardly your typical master. Come next

Saturday morning, I was there, and for many more Saturdays to come.

This was only the beginning...