Jack Latorre
06-27-2008, 05:41 PM
This was an article I wrote in the PTI newsletter...I forget when (i've got toddlers), but thought this would appropriate here.
Coaches Corner: Family Systems
by Mataas Na Guro Jack A. Latorre
As many PTI members have undoubtedly heard many of the tales of Tuhon McGrath that have become PTI’s folklore and history, I think it appropriate to revisit one discussion in particular. It was this particular discussion that started me on my path in this system and shed much light on our role in the art and the rewards of persistence.
It was in 1995 that I met Tuhon McGrath for the first time. He held the first PTI training camp at his house. He had opened his own home for four days to a group which had some long time practitioners of the system and some complete strangers (that’s me) to both Pekiti-Tirsia and to Tuhon himself. We trained throughly in all the rudiments of the system and did so many times. It was some of the most rewarding training I had ever done. Some of my classmates then have become lifelong colleagues and friends, such as now senior instructors Mataas Na Guro Zach Whitson and Maginoo Mike Popolizio.
It was the last evening and the group had hunkered down in Tuhon’s den for a meeting. It was at this meeting that Tuhon told us that he and Grand Tuhon Gaje had kind of a joke between them…that they couldn’t travel together on the same plane because if it crashed, then the entire Pekiti-Tirsia system would die with them. Although said in humor, Tuhon had stated that that was the reason why PTI was created…to help ensure the survival of the system in its entirety. We, of course, asked him to further explain.
Tuhon then began to explain to us that a Filipino family may have had its own fighting system, and that system would be traditionally be passed down from father to son, or grandfather to grandson. According to the explanation given to him by Grand Tuhon Gaje, there were many different family systems at one point in the Philippines that were intact. It was primarily the Spanish-American War and World War Two that changed this situation. In some instances, a son would be slain in one of these military conflicts before his father could complete his son’s training, thus ending the bloodline of that particular art.
In other instances, the father would be slain before the system was passed on and the son would be left with something incomplete. In that scenario, the son would be left thinking that what he had of his family system was complete, or would be left to "fill in the blanks" with the information from other systems…even from systems not indigenous to the Philippines. Therefore, a Filipino who trained with only stick with his father may have never learned that his system was originally a bladed one. Or a Filipino who trained primarily in solo baston may have never have learned the nuances of espada y daga, even though it originally existed in his family system.
I believe that this partially explains why in some of the other martial arts that one may see a technique that just doesn’t make sense unless there is a key or context to it. An example might be the overhead block seen in many traditional Okinawan-based systems, in which the forearm is raised over the practitioner’s head to protect it. It is done in many empty hand kata by practitioners of every level. There are practitioners that understand that it is a motion done with a tonfa (side-handle baton) but there are some that have not had that aspect explained to them by their instructor yet. If the instructor leaves or dies, it is conceivable that some practitioners would think that is the way to perform the block…empty-handed. Not understanding that key or explanation allows for the true idea behind the technique to be lost and misunderstood. The traditional father-son teaching format of the Philippines often allows for deeper understanding and absorption of technique, but also allows a precarious existence for the same technique should a break happen in the aforementioned father-son pedagogical format.
Filipino culture has its own "spins" that tend to hurt its own indigenous arts. The Filipino culture has always been an assimilation of various Asian ideas and practices, largely due to its ideal location for trans-Asian trade. Foreign products would exchange hands in the Philippines, and also martial ideas. This natural exchange, I believe, contributed to a tendency among Filipinos that all things foreign are superior…whether it be dishwashers, clothes, beer or martial arts. The national sport is basketball (not sipa…or hackey-sack to us) and there is some talk that many want to make the national martial art tae known do. Many Filipinos who do take any sort of martial art end up studying tae kwon do or karate, even though their own country has a rich martial tradition. Even some Filipino martial art schools (in the Philippines and abroad) have adopted foreign martial practices, such as the Japanese belt-ranking system, or the manner of using stances and reverse punches. This kind of fancy for things non-Filipino have also contributed to the dilution and dissipation of some Filipino martial practices, lessening the "survival rate" of the Filipino father-son systems.
All of this brings the focus back to the inception of Pekiti-Tirsia International. Many have fought and lived (and some have died) in the process of making this system and bringing it to where it is now. Late Grand Tuhon Conrado Tortal is credited not only with the exponential technical growth of Pekiti-Tirsia, but the passing on of the system to his grandson, Leo Gaje Jr. Grand Tuhon Leo Gaje Jr. is credited not only with bringing the system to American shores, but the spreading of the system to some of the world’s most prominent martial artists. Tuhon McGrath is not only credited for the organization of the system for pedagogical use, but helping to ensure the survival of the system by expanding its "gene pool"…by training us and overseeing quality control in PTI. The system is not only a complete family system, but it is a great system…the best I personally have ever seen, and I am proud to be part of it. The PTI curriculum is a preservation of an incredible family system and we, as practitioners, are procurators of that legacy. We add to that legacy with the advent of new weapons and technology, but the core of what Pekiti-Tirsia is is still there…three ranges, three armed opponents and attack/counter/re-counter. The importance of PTI is its preservation of a family legacy and how it can be used to help and preserve our own families.
Think of us as museum curators. It would be our responsibility to provide the correct information about, say Picasso, and to put his work in a context so that it has relevancy to today’s viewer. We would be able to compare and contrast how earlier paintings of one period in Picasso’s life relate to his later works. PTI is similar. Our job as instructors is to show a given technique correctly (providing correct information), show how that technique is used in different contexts (comparing), how it is not used (contrasting), and how best to train that technique for a given individual so that it functional (relevant context). It is one thing if you wish to "just learn some knife or stick". You may be just trying to fill in some gaps that your previous training left. There is nothing at all wrong with that. But if your goal is instructorship and the passing on of technique to a new audience, there is a different kind of responsibility left on your shoulders now. The great thing is that there are any number of people in PTI who are anxious to help you along your way. It has been my experience in life, not just in PTI, that more people are willing to help than not. Just let them know that you could use the help.
Tuhon McGrath has said in the past, "Pekiti-Tirsia will live or die by the quality of its instructors". I agree. And I know I would not have the understanding I do now without the help of my classmates and instructors that were willing to take the time to help. By the way, having instructorship does not necessarily mean you have "arrived". As Mataas Na Guro Wes Tasker said to me once, "Having the Mataas Na Guro rank just means you were in the system long enough to be a beginner and now you know you are." Your persistence will pay off dividends…for you, your family, your students. Just use the resources available to you through PTI instructors and classmates. And what was once available to a son only through his father will now be available to you.
Coaches Corner: Family Systems
by Mataas Na Guro Jack A. Latorre
As many PTI members have undoubtedly heard many of the tales of Tuhon McGrath that have become PTI’s folklore and history, I think it appropriate to revisit one discussion in particular. It was this particular discussion that started me on my path in this system and shed much light on our role in the art and the rewards of persistence.
It was in 1995 that I met Tuhon McGrath for the first time. He held the first PTI training camp at his house. He had opened his own home for four days to a group which had some long time practitioners of the system and some complete strangers (that’s me) to both Pekiti-Tirsia and to Tuhon himself. We trained throughly in all the rudiments of the system and did so many times. It was some of the most rewarding training I had ever done. Some of my classmates then have become lifelong colleagues and friends, such as now senior instructors Mataas Na Guro Zach Whitson and Maginoo Mike Popolizio.
It was the last evening and the group had hunkered down in Tuhon’s den for a meeting. It was at this meeting that Tuhon told us that he and Grand Tuhon Gaje had kind of a joke between them…that they couldn’t travel together on the same plane because if it crashed, then the entire Pekiti-Tirsia system would die with them. Although said in humor, Tuhon had stated that that was the reason why PTI was created…to help ensure the survival of the system in its entirety. We, of course, asked him to further explain.
Tuhon then began to explain to us that a Filipino family may have had its own fighting system, and that system would be traditionally be passed down from father to son, or grandfather to grandson. According to the explanation given to him by Grand Tuhon Gaje, there were many different family systems at one point in the Philippines that were intact. It was primarily the Spanish-American War and World War Two that changed this situation. In some instances, a son would be slain in one of these military conflicts before his father could complete his son’s training, thus ending the bloodline of that particular art.
In other instances, the father would be slain before the system was passed on and the son would be left with something incomplete. In that scenario, the son would be left thinking that what he had of his family system was complete, or would be left to "fill in the blanks" with the information from other systems…even from systems not indigenous to the Philippines. Therefore, a Filipino who trained with only stick with his father may have never learned that his system was originally a bladed one. Or a Filipino who trained primarily in solo baston may have never have learned the nuances of espada y daga, even though it originally existed in his family system.
I believe that this partially explains why in some of the other martial arts that one may see a technique that just doesn’t make sense unless there is a key or context to it. An example might be the overhead block seen in many traditional Okinawan-based systems, in which the forearm is raised over the practitioner’s head to protect it. It is done in many empty hand kata by practitioners of every level. There are practitioners that understand that it is a motion done with a tonfa (side-handle baton) but there are some that have not had that aspect explained to them by their instructor yet. If the instructor leaves or dies, it is conceivable that some practitioners would think that is the way to perform the block…empty-handed. Not understanding that key or explanation allows for the true idea behind the technique to be lost and misunderstood. The traditional father-son teaching format of the Philippines often allows for deeper understanding and absorption of technique, but also allows a precarious existence for the same technique should a break happen in the aforementioned father-son pedagogical format.
Filipino culture has its own "spins" that tend to hurt its own indigenous arts. The Filipino culture has always been an assimilation of various Asian ideas and practices, largely due to its ideal location for trans-Asian trade. Foreign products would exchange hands in the Philippines, and also martial ideas. This natural exchange, I believe, contributed to a tendency among Filipinos that all things foreign are superior…whether it be dishwashers, clothes, beer or martial arts. The national sport is basketball (not sipa…or hackey-sack to us) and there is some talk that many want to make the national martial art tae known do. Many Filipinos who do take any sort of martial art end up studying tae kwon do or karate, even though their own country has a rich martial tradition. Even some Filipino martial art schools (in the Philippines and abroad) have adopted foreign martial practices, such as the Japanese belt-ranking system, or the manner of using stances and reverse punches. This kind of fancy for things non-Filipino have also contributed to the dilution and dissipation of some Filipino martial practices, lessening the "survival rate" of the Filipino father-son systems.
All of this brings the focus back to the inception of Pekiti-Tirsia International. Many have fought and lived (and some have died) in the process of making this system and bringing it to where it is now. Late Grand Tuhon Conrado Tortal is credited not only with the exponential technical growth of Pekiti-Tirsia, but the passing on of the system to his grandson, Leo Gaje Jr. Grand Tuhon Leo Gaje Jr. is credited not only with bringing the system to American shores, but the spreading of the system to some of the world’s most prominent martial artists. Tuhon McGrath is not only credited for the organization of the system for pedagogical use, but helping to ensure the survival of the system by expanding its "gene pool"…by training us and overseeing quality control in PTI. The system is not only a complete family system, but it is a great system…the best I personally have ever seen, and I am proud to be part of it. The PTI curriculum is a preservation of an incredible family system and we, as practitioners, are procurators of that legacy. We add to that legacy with the advent of new weapons and technology, but the core of what Pekiti-Tirsia is is still there…three ranges, three armed opponents and attack/counter/re-counter. The importance of PTI is its preservation of a family legacy and how it can be used to help and preserve our own families.
Think of us as museum curators. It would be our responsibility to provide the correct information about, say Picasso, and to put his work in a context so that it has relevancy to today’s viewer. We would be able to compare and contrast how earlier paintings of one period in Picasso’s life relate to his later works. PTI is similar. Our job as instructors is to show a given technique correctly (providing correct information), show how that technique is used in different contexts (comparing), how it is not used (contrasting), and how best to train that technique for a given individual so that it functional (relevant context). It is one thing if you wish to "just learn some knife or stick". You may be just trying to fill in some gaps that your previous training left. There is nothing at all wrong with that. But if your goal is instructorship and the passing on of technique to a new audience, there is a different kind of responsibility left on your shoulders now. The great thing is that there are any number of people in PTI who are anxious to help you along your way. It has been my experience in life, not just in PTI, that more people are willing to help than not. Just let them know that you could use the help.
Tuhon McGrath has said in the past, "Pekiti-Tirsia will live or die by the quality of its instructors". I agree. And I know I would not have the understanding I do now without the help of my classmates and instructors that were willing to take the time to help. By the way, having instructorship does not necessarily mean you have "arrived". As Mataas Na Guro Wes Tasker said to me once, "Having the Mataas Na Guro rank just means you were in the system long enough to be a beginner and now you know you are." Your persistence will pay off dividends…for you, your family, your students. Just use the resources available to you through PTI instructors and classmates. And what was once available to a son only through his father will now be available to you.