Against All Odds: My Story by Chuck Norris, Abraham Norris, Ken Chuck, Chuck Ken; Norris Abraham, Ken Abraham Read Free Book Online

sideways to pass each other. Suddenly he was jumped by surprise by six slicky boys (young Korean muggers). One of the attackers had a knife.
    Contrary to images portrayed by martial arts movies, including my own, knowing karate or some other martial art does not make a person invincible. The air policeman avoided the knife attack, but in the confined, cramped conditions, he couldn't kick and was unable to maneuver well, especially against the muggers coming at him from various directions in the dark. The ambushers beat him up badly and robbed him.
    The air policeman was a black belt in tang soo do . When the slicky boys found this out, they were so horrified at the potential reprisal they might suffer, they printed an apology in the local paper. It did them no good. When somebody messes with one black belt, he or she is challenging the whole organization. One of our members tracked down several of the attackers. He killed one and injured two. The police arrested him, and he was sentenced to three years in prison. He was back out on the street in two weeks. The lesson was clear: Mess with one member of our group, and you are messing with all.
    After almost a year of daily practice, Mr. Shin told me I was ready for my black belt test. Now every move I made during training was observed by critical eyes. Mr. Shin and the other black belts mercilessly drilled me over and over on the various techniques on which I might be tested, and that I had already practiced to exhaustion hundreds of times. Every technique I had learned was sharpened by constant, loudly shouted, cutting remarks. The Korean teaching method tends to focus on what a student is doing wrong rather than on what he or she is doing well.
    I was a nervous and physical wreck by the time I was scheduled to face the board of examiners in Seoul. My sergeant let me borrow a Jeep from the motor pool for the forty-mile drive to Seoul. It was the dead of winter, the roads were icy, and the drive took two hours. The Jeep's heater provided negligible warmth, and I arrived stiff with cold at the dojang (training hall) where the test was to be held.
    The dojang was a big unheated building with wind blowing through open spaces in the walls. It was freezing inside as well as out. I changed into my gi , my white karate uniform, and sat down cross-legged on the bare wooden floor, along with the other people testing. I was the only student from my school among two hundred strangers testing for various ranks. The board of examiners sat stone-faced at a table.
    I watched as the others exhibited their forms and free-sparred with selected black belts. At first I passed the time by comparing myself to the other novices, whom I watched with great interest. Within half an hour, however, my mind could focus only on how cold and stiff I was from sitting on the floor waiting to test. After about three hours of sitting, my body was numb. Then I heard my name called.
    I uncrossed my legs and stood, still a bit wobbly from sitting in one position for so long. I walked over to the examiners, bowed, and heard someone tell me in Korean to do the form bassai . Bassai was the final form a student must learn to qualify for the black belt exam. It was similar to a choreographed dance except that it involved displaying various defenses against an opponent in an imaginary fight. Although I had done the routine countless times before, my mind suddenly went blank. I could not, for the life of me, remember how to do the bassai . As a comparison, imagine taking ballroom dance lessons for months and learning all sorts of steps, twirls, and routines, but then at your recital you could not remember the most rudimentary of moves. That is how I felt. My concentration had been broken by the cold and my nervousness. After a few embarrassing moments, I confessed to the examiners that I could not remember the form.
    “Go sit down,” one of the examiners said, barely concealing the disdain in his voice. I returned to my