Martial Arts the ‘Gentle Way’ : Judo: Physical contact fosters respect among participants, instructors at nonprofit San Gabriel school say. The sport promotes discipline and spiritual growth, they say.

Novice judo student Kang Yue, 16, bowed respectfully to Elliot Tsujiuchi, a third-degree black belt. Then, without hesitating, she grabbed Tsujiuchi’s white robe with both hands, twisted to the left while bending her knees and threw her 180-pound partner over her head and onto his back.

Wiping away the sweat that dropped like tears from his eyes, Tsujiuchi stood up and smiled. Flushed and breathless, Yue tightened her body in defense as Tsujiuchi lunged for her.

Thud!

The deep, loud sound of bodies hitting plastic mats continued for two hours as instructors at the San Gabriel Judo Dojo in Temple City taught children--of all ages, ethnicities and skill levels--the martial art whose name means the “gentle way.”

Although throwing one’s partner to the ground and clamping his head between your legs may not sound gentle, there is an intimacy in judo that is not found in other forms of martial arts, said Mike Noriega, a head instructor at the school.

“Judo is a much less aggressive sport than karate,” he said. “There’s no kicking or punching. You must get close to your opponent.”

Noriega, who has trained and taught at the school for 22 years, exudes the serenity and control of a martial arts master as depicted on television and in movies. He describes the nonprofit school as a place where children can simultaneously learn self-confidence and humility, and where coordination and finesse are more important than strength and size.

The San Gabriel Judo Dojo first opened in El Monte in 1930 as part of the San Gabriel Japanese Community Center, but it was closed during World War II and some members were sent to internment camps. It reopened in Temple City after the war and ranked fourth in the nation last spring at the U.S. Judo Federation Junior, Youth and Team Championships.

“We have dedicated instructors and our kids are really determined,” Noriega said about the school’s high ranking. “We don’t only focus on competition and winning; we want the kids to have fun.

“Sometimes you learn more through losing anyway,” he said. “It’s like life, you learn not to give up.”

The school sits behind a dog kennel at the end of a narrow dirt road. Dogs bark wildly as youths arrive for Monday and Friday night classes. The school has 65 boys and girls whose families come from all over the world: Vietnam and Mexico, India and Ethiopia. They all wear the white judo uniform of robe-like tops and pajama-like pants, with belts of various colors indicating their level of competency. Students have mastered judo when they receive the first of 10 possible black belts.

Before entering the mirrorless, rectangle-shaped room, students leave their sandals at the door and bow in respect for the sport. Noriega and at least four other instructors, including two-time world champion Tadashi Hiraoka spar with students to help them develop the timing, coordination, concentration and discipline necessary to master judo.

“In karate, you can practice in the mirror, against a wall or with a bag,” Noriega explained. “But in judo, you need a partner. It teaches you respect for others.”

That respect can be a crucial safety factor when practicing. In a room filled with action and noise, students must be aware of how their partners are doing. Ray Nishikawa, 17, quickly releases Sam Ohta, 31, from a headlock when Ohta taps the mat twice lightly with his hand.

His eyes bulging, Ohta shakes his head to reorient himself. “He’s not just holding me down, he’s got my arteries and veins, so it chokes you,” he explained.

Ohta rejoined the school two months ago after quitting judo during college. “Judo teaches you discipline, which is something I lacked in my 20s,” he said. “But now I’m ready for it again. It’s calm, spiritual and a great way to get into shape.”