It's unfortunate most defining moments aren't greeted with the sort of cinematic fanfare they deserve; no violin crescendos precede momentous occasions. Because life possesses no soundtrack, I was recently left unprepared to witness the television event of the century.
My roommate Neil and I were in our living room, channel surfing and enjoying respective pints of Chunky Monkey ice cream (to protect his identity and save the little innocence he has left, I'll refer to Neil by his nickname: Bonesaw). Bonesaw tuned to ESPN2, expecting to see \The World Series of Poker.""
Instead, an agitated man, dressed in a white karate garb, paced across the screen. A pirate-like patch covered his right eye, leaving his left to scowl alone. Stacks of concrete blocks and boards surrounded the combatant; standing in front of him was a man holding a Louisville Slugger. After sizing up his wooden nemesis, the cycloptic fighter screamed and, in one motion, broke the bat with his foot.
""That was the sweetest thing I've ever seen!"" Bonesaw said, the Chunky Monkey running down his chin.
Little did we know our mystery warrior was Chip Townsend, who later captured the International Sport Karate Association's 2005 World Power Breaking Championship. During his routine, Townsend darted around, slamming his fists into random stone bricks with alarming ferocity, despite his little depth perception.
The competition's highlight came when one participant, built like Chris Farley, removed his shirt and sprinted down a runway. With force capable of vaporizing David Spade, the pudgy torpedo propelled himself, headfirst, through several feet of ice. I'll bet the stunt was very cathartic, but I'm not sure it was worth the concussion.
Though we both agreed that competitive breaking was the most amazing thing ever televised, it should be noted that I'm a fairly spastic white guy whose martial arts knowledge ends at ""Karate Kid 2"" and Bonesaw isn't difficult to amuse.
One morning, hearing a commotion in our kitchen, I found Bonesaw hovering over our waffle-maker, chanting ""Go, Go, Go!"" to expedite the toasting. With the grilling finished, a jubilant ""Yes!"" echoed throughout our apartment while Bonesaw triumphantly raised his arms.
While similarly trying to cook pancakes, I spilled a lot of syrup on myself, yet was unable to determine exactly where the sap was hiding. It was like I engaged in heavy petting with Mrs. Buttersworth and the aroma of our sweet affair inexplicably lingered through multiple showers.
My new cologne even caught the attention of employers at the recent Business Career Fair:
Me: Hello, I'm extremely interested in a Junior Analyst position at your Chicago office!
Goldman Sachs representative: Did you make out with a maple tree?
My point is Bonesaw and I aren't very sophisticated college students, let alone ninjas; perhaps we're easily impressed. So I consulted with Robert Yu, who teaches Introduction to Martial Arts at UW-Madison, and is the nicest person ever to punch me during an interview (he demonstrated how to throw a relaxed swing like, in his words, ""a bear mauling its prey""). Mr. Yu thought breaking was legitimate, though he had reservations.
""Breaking is a demonstration of force ... it's all physics and the isolation of a technique,"" Yu explained. ""Being relaxed is helpful; anyone can learn to break a board.""
Rumor has it ESPN will repeat the championships in November. With the allure faded, I'm not sure I'll watch. How can the breaking community bring me back? Two words: aluminum bats. I'll have my TiVo ready.
Dan Tierney's favorite Ninja Turtle is Leonardo; e-mail him yours at detierney@wisc.edu.
