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Article originally published in Karate International, August 2000

Norm McLinden (R) poses with Joe Lewis,
who has been a great inspiration in his life

By Norman McLinden

     Prologue: Pam came into my office at the school. I was sporting the only shiner that I’ve ever been proud of. She looked at me with obvious curiosity and asked, “Why? Why did you do it?” It’s a question that needs some exploring. The answer mainly deals with not living with regret, with not missing an opportunity, with fulfilling a dream…

     It’s a warm Friday night at the end of August. There are two grown men and a little boy staring at the small TV. It’s a commercial break during The Friday Night Fights. It is 1950’s America. The two men discuss boxers, past and present. One of the men is my father, the other my uncle. The boy listening intently is me. I am five years old. The great Sugar Ray Robinson is fighting this evening. Every time Sugar Ray’s name is mentioned, my father stops whatever he is saying and pays full attention to the tiny TV. I know what my father’s comments will be. “I sure woulda liked to have fought that Sugarman.” He goes on matter of factly, “I may not of beat him, but I would have gone the distance.” His eyes reflect an opportunity lost in time. My father, an accomplished boxer, would never fight Sugar Ray Robinson. This was my Dad’s unlived challenge. But that never stopped him from loving boxing. I remember will my first set of boxing gloves and my father yelling, “three jabs then a cross!” We would bounce and box all over our tiny living room. If my cousin came over he was swiftly given the other set of gloves and we would joyously pound each other all afternoon. The referee of course was Dad. I know for a fact those early experiments in pugilism influenced my later life.
     I was nineteen years old when I borrowed my Aunt’s car and drove 25 miles from the suburbs to the city. As a skinny insecure kid it took me a while to get up the courage to walk through the door. As I did so, I never dreamed I was taking a path that would wind through the next 28 years of my life. A friendly fellow gave me the run down on the martial arts and the school in general. A picture hanging over the dojo entrance caught my eye. It was a muscular blonde man doing the most awesome flying sidekick I’d ever seen. Between that picture and the courteous man behind the desk, I decided to sign up. As I was signing the release forms and contracts, I asked who the guy in the picture was. He laughed and said, “That’s Joe Lewis, the World Champion.” He went on to tell me how his instructor trained in the same system, but I didn’t catch the whole story. What I did remember was the image of Joe Lewis, the World Karate Champion.
     As the years passed, I experimented with a number of systems. I read all the magazines, especially any article about this Lewis guy who was a legend in the karate world. One place I trained at was a full contact karate school. I was attracted to this brutal style because I was a boy suffering from too much testosterone. There was a picture of the chief instructor with none other than Mr. Lewis. No matter how my life changed, I was determined to stay active in the martial arts. I was fortunate enough that there were some excellent Tae-Kwon-Do people in my immediate area. I was able to juggle my work, family and martial arts commitments, eventually achieving my dream of becoming a black belt. My father was proud of my accomplishments in the martial arts. He would frequently share his boxing stories with me and, of course, I would hear the inevitable lectures about Sugar Ray Robinson, always concluding, “I may not of beat that Sugarman, but I would of gone the distance.”


The fight is on! Joe Lewis (L) spars with Norman McLinden
     I opened my own school in the early 90’s, realizing another dream of mine. A little while after I settled in, I received a flyer for a seminar. Joe Lewis was going to be there, and so I made plans to attend. This turned out to be the first of many Joe Lewis seminars I participated in. They were all intense learning experiences. At the end of one of these seminars the promoter, Rob, was going to test with Lewis. He invited me to hang around and watch. Rob was a large, rugged man in his late twenties. He explained to me that he had to go three 3-minute rounds of full contact kickboxing with Joe Lewis, himself. If you quit, the test was over and would not be promoted in the Joe Lewis American Kickboxing System.
     My prior experiences found Lewis to be an intense teacher. He fluctuates from being humorous to alarmingly blunt. As he put his gear on for this test, I saw him transform from teacher to fighter. Joe Lewis, the World Champion, is probably the most intimidating man on earth. Rob was a valiant combatant, but he was entering Joe Lewis’s world, the world of full contact kickboxing. A world Lewis had been credited with inventing. Lewis fought with a well-paced intense fury. For the briefest of instants he would slip into his teacher role, shout some instructions to Rob, then resume as fighter. I was able to see first hand what had made this man a legend. He was mobile. His techniques exploded. He was able to fully evaluate his opponent. Rob gave Lewis the best he had. In the end his nose was broken, he was badly winded and probably suffered from a battery of yet-to-be-discovered injuries, but he had passed his test and he was elated. How I wished I were him.
     I’ve always heard that it’s not the things we try and fail that we regret. It’s the things we don’t try. Within us all is the urge to touch greatness, to rise to a great challenge, to do something we know in our subconscious that we were born to do. Some dream to hit the home run that wins the World Series, write the great American novel, swim the English Channel, or go around the world in a hot air balloon. The world both inside and outside the martial arts is rife with individuals who never fulfilled their dreams. Sometimes you have to knock on opportunity’s door. In April I called Joe Lewis to do a seminar at my school in September. Before we finished our conversation, I visualized all those people with dreams unfulfilled and knew what my dream was. Did I have the fortitude to seize my opportunity? I heard the words come out of my mouth, “Joe, how about testing me?” I had just asked the greatest karate fighter of all time to test me in his system. Joe didn’t miss a beat. He said, “Sure.” I asked Joe if he could give some advice to someone who was gearing up to go three rounds with him. “Yeah,” he said. “Don’t.” As I said earlier, Mr. Lewis is both humorous and blunt.
     Joe was an excellent long distance coach and instructor. To qualify to test with Mr. Lewis, I had to send him a videotaped pretest consisting of three 3-minute rounds with different opponents. Lewis was able to technically dissect each round in the pretest and provide me with an encyclopedia of feedback for improving my kickboxing strategies. Joe said to call him day or night if I had any questions. I recall talking to him at 9:30 one evening after he had just gotten done with a workout. After our conversation, I felt like running up to the school and pounding the bag for an hour. To attain a goal you must focus all your energies on that goal. You live that goal. You breathe it. You visualize it. You visualize yourself obtaining it. How many in the great army of the regretful had their day in the sun only to find out they weren’t prepared? Errors are made in all sports competitions. There is a marked difference between error and lack of preparation. The Olympic ice skater that blows the triple axle made a mistake. The out of shape boxer who didn’t take advantage of training before the bout is not prepared. Being unsuccessful with a goal because of error is part of being human. Being unsuccessful due to lack of preparation is failure. I was determined not to be regretful. Every available moment I had was spent with my sparring partners and my heavy bag.

After the fight - tired but happy.
     Two other aspects derail many of us from success: lack of confidence, and fear. As the time to test with Lewis got closer, I could taste the fear. Many people, including myself, see Joe Lewis as the “Greatest Karate Fighter of All Time.” Anyone who has seen his famous sidekick knows he’s extremely dangerous in a kicking zone. Lewis is also a master in the punching range. As I would soon find out, his short punches were the most painful and devastating. He is also replete with a variety of kickboxing strategies. Adding all these factors up, I felt my self confidence buckle. For the first time in my life, I truly understood the meaning of fear. To train for any competition you prepare the mind and body. With the help of my sparring partners, I got my body whipped into shape. What I needed was a way of mentally preparing myself. I found my answer in one of Joe Lewis’ articles in Karate International Magazine, where he cited a book by his friend, author Walter Anderson, called “The Confidence Course.” This became my bible. I used many of Mr. Anderson’s exercises from the book. I was particularly taken on his philosophies about fear. As Walter Anderson comments, “Courage is acting with fear, not without it. If the challenge is important to you, you are supposed to be nervous.” That, of course, is the essence of courage. This helped me to regroup and re-examine my objectives.
     Lewis is bigger, stronger, and a better technician than I. Some might think this corny, but I recalled a scene from “Rocky” in which Rocky realizes he can’t possibly defeat Apollo Creed but that there is another way to winning. As he explains to Adrian, “I can’t beat him. I’m not even in his class, but if that final bell rings and I’m still standing, I’ll know I wasn’t just another bum from the neighborhood. I’ll have gone the distance.” I had the opportunity to test with the greatest karate fighter of all time. I loved martial arts like my father loved boxing. He regretted never fighting Robinson. My challenge was on me. It was all coming together. I was a lucky person to have this opportunity. I would not live a life of regret. Courage is acting with fear, not without it. Winning is going the distance.
     Lewis met me at my school on a Saturday morning. The only people present were Lewis, my student Pam and me. Pam was to help with the equipment, run the camcorder and take an occasional picture. The reason for video taping the test is for instructional purposes. To review what you did right and what are your mistakes. Before we started Joe looked me in the eyes and he said, “I’m only going to say two words to you, “Get Up!”
     I recalled a Winston Churchill quote, “There is no more exhilarating feeling in the morning than being shot at.” Staring into Joe Lewis’ eyes just before the round buzzer goes off is more than exhilarating. You are touching a legend. You are going to stand toe to toe with the greatest fighter of all time. You know in that instant if you belong there or not. For me it was one of the few times in my life I knew I was meant to be there at that place and time. My feelings were solidified when the round signal went off. After a brief period of Joe and I shuffling around, the legend touched me first via a left hook that exploded on my eye and reverberated through my neck muscle. The fight was on.
     Everything you may have heard about Lewis is true. His techniques explode, he is mobile, he is ring smart. The first round was an evaluation. What’s this guy got? What are his strengths? Weaknesses? The second round Lewis displayed a number of different strategies. He was testing my ability to counter these strategies. As I had seen him previously demonstrate, he slipped from combatant to instructor, yelling instructions to me. The third round I met full force the indomitable Joe Lewis blitz. As Joe unloaded on me, my heart resounded in a loud tone, “Go the distance.” At the end of the mini round I was still standing. Lewis looked me in the eyes and said, “Good, no stopping.” I heard Pam say, “Awesome.”
     Fights are to be seen, not written on a page. I’ve reviewed my fight video many times. At first it was painful to watch. There are all the things you could have, should have and wanted to do. In retrospect, it was a battle of will, a test of shear determination, a great (if painful) learning experience. It was a feeling of accomplishment. I shared my adventure with my father the next day. I explained that it was his tales of Sugar Ray Robinson that led me to my challenge. I also explained that I was lucky. Time and circumstance had allowed this formidable experience to happen. The factors I could control, the training and determination, belonged to me. That is the essence of seizing the say. I was finally able to reply to my father’s lecture. “You know Dad, I don’t know if you coulda beat that Sugarman, but you would of gone the distance. I never knew you to let an opportunity slip by.” There was a genuine look of fulfillment in my father’s eyes.

     “So Pam, I guess that’s a long answer to a short question. My only closing advice is, don’t let your Sugar Ray get away. Don’t have any regrets.”