Chapter 35 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
OSCAR
Never in Oscar’s wildest dreams would he imagine standing in Paris’s Grand Palais, surrounded by hundreds of kendo athletes from sixty-two different countries with close to ten thousand spectators cheering them on.
And just like last year’s Olympics for fencing and taekwondo that Oscar watched on TV, the French had decorated the Grand Palais immaculately, with the nations’ flags hung around the arched and vaulted glass ceilings.
Two-tiered stadium seating surrounded a gymnasium-sized wood floor separated into four shiai-jo, competition squares.
Although the parade of athletes for opening ceremonies of the competition had been a fraction of the size of the Olympics, Oscar felt extremely proud and excited to be a part of it.
When they had lined up outside the historic building before their entry, Oscar admired the French architecture.
Situated between the Champs-élysées and the Seine River, the Grand Palais had opened in 1900, replacing the Palais de I’Industrie where the famous art Salon had displayed some of the most famous works of art by the likes of Manet, Whistler, Cézanne, Renoir and Monet.
Now the Grand Palais not only showcased the historic Salon, but concerts, operas, and a variety of sporting events, including equestrian competitions.
The team’s guide had told them that the Palais had served as a military hospital during World War I and in World War II, the Nazis occupied it, using it as a truck depot. It had history for sure.
The guide also pointed out the two enormous bronze sculptures by Georges Récipon atop each wing, one depicting “Immortality prevailing over Time,” and the other, “Harmony triumphing over Discord.”
As Oscar stood with his teammates, he couldn’t help but feel like the second bronze captured his current centeredness. The last few weeks of discord had faded, and a new sense of harmony rose within his spirit, even with their hectic schedule to prepare for this trip to France.
After Doctor Jō told Oscar that he would be on the team going to the World Kendo Championships, Oscar had trained tirelessly and listened even more carefully as Joseph instructed him on all the intricacies of competition and perhaps more importantly, the peculiarities of how to conduct himself around all the high-ranking kendokās and officials.
Oscar was low man on the totem pole for the U.S.
team and even lower once they’d arrived in France with the top kendo masters of the world.
It was unusual for such a low rank to compete at the World, and when Oscar learned they only placed him on the team because the athlete who had originally filled the spot had backed out for a family emergency, it made him work that much harder.
Oscar also learned that the ten students on the Mount Diablo run made up only part of the U.S.
delegation. There were twenty representatives from all over the U.S.
, but Berkeley accounted for the highest fraction at eight.
Tom and Ashley would fight for Japan, something they loved to tease Oscar about, as Japan normally topped all the podiums. The twenty members would compete in four categories—men’s and women’s teams and men’s and women’s individuals.
Oscar was the final member of the men’s team.
Fortunately, the T-shirts Oscar had designed for the team were a smash hit and recognized affirmatively by the French organizing committee. Sensei teased him, and said, “You should have made boxes of the shirts and sold them. You could have paid for our trip.”
Thankfully, Berkeley and the All U.S. Kendo Federation had paid their expenses.
And most fortunately, Buki took a liking to the kendo student that Joseph had asked to house-sit.
Even though Buk had pouted and stared at Oscar with sad, disapproving eyes as he packed his suitcase, he snuggled close to the house sitter when Oscar walked out the door.
The four-day event had flown by—their time had been strictly eat, sleep, and kendo.
If the team wasn’t in competition, they trained.
Sensei made it clear they were not in Paris to party and enforced a strict curfew.
It had been easy to observe, as he had them up at five to run and with all day matches, they didn’t get back to the hotel until after dark.
“If you’re not competing, you’re watching and learning,” he told them.
“When competition is over, you may have fun…but not too much. I am going to show Missus Jō around Paris for a few days, and you are all free to see the sights on your own.”
What Oscar had seen of Paris was fantastic.
The City of Light flashed by at five miles an hour at jogging speed and everywhere the team ran, they passed another famous landmark—the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, and of course the Eiffel Tower.
Every day, the trek from their hotel, Hotel de Louvre, to the Grand Palais took them through the Gardens of Tuileries and along the Seine River.
Now, from the holding area, Oscar watched the French team fight the Koreans in their semifinal match. A thunderous cheer rose when the French team competitor scored a point.
He breathed deeply in and out, trying to slow his pounding heart. Over the last few days, Oscar had watched the young Japanese competitor who he’d fight next. The kid struck with blinding speed and precision. He’d probably been born with a shinai in his hands.
“You having fun?” Doctor Jō came up behind Oscar.
Oscar turned and bowed. “Sensei, thank you so much for bringing me, I just wish I fought better.” Oscar was not lying.
He had only won one match out of the four.
Each match lasted a maximum time of five minutes.
Three referees scored the match, with only four strikes qualifying: the head, wrist, body, or a thrust to the throat.
Each attack had to be decisive—performed with the correct form, speed, accuracy, and power, accompanied with a firm kiai, yell.
He had beaten his German counterpart, but when they fought the Korean team, Oscar’s match ended in under a minute when his opponent easily scored the necessary three points.
They based team scoring on the overall outcome of the five competitors, and the rest of the team carried them into the semifinals. “I have learned so much.” Oscar added to Sensei.
Sensei smiled. “Why do you think I brought you? We are fueling this desire. Yes?”
“Most definitely, Sensei.” Oscar bowed. “Thank you.”
“For this next match, I want you to think about something. I have noticed you telegraph your intentions too much. Try to let go. Don’t think so much.
Don’t plan too much. React.” Sensei stretched out his hands as though he was holding a shinai.
“A-chi!” he let out a loud kiai and snapped his wrist at an imaginary target.
“Thank you, Sensei. I will try.” Oscar glanced over at the Japanese team standing across the competition area, who they fought next.
The World Kendo Championships started in 1970. Japan had never lost in any of the four divisions except when the men’s team lost to the USA in the semi-final in 2006, and never since. Tom and Ashley reassured Oscar that would never be repeated.
Doctor Jō smiled at him and tousled his hair. “You are doing well, OsCar. I am very proud of you.”
* * *
The French National team invited the U.S.
team to join them in a post-competition celebration.
The French had rented out the entire terrace of the La Closerie des Lilas, a famous Parisian restaurant that had operated since 1847.
Doctor Jō warned everyone to dress up and be on their best behavior.
“I would have fed you pizza, but the French have chosen a fancy place.”
The French National coach and Doctor Jō had gone to school together in Japan and started kendo about the same time. No expense would be spared between the wine and food.
The carafes of red wine came in waves of endless supply.
The restaurant served the food buffet style with a delicious array of dishes: wild boar; rabbit; seafood of various kinds including shrimp, scallops, and sole meunière; and beef fillet the server said was “Hemingway style.” Also on the menu was a huge chafing dish of French fries, prepared especially for the Yanks.
Dessert included mandarin sorbet, and milk chocolate and banana Napoleons. Oscar stuffed himself with the delicious fare.
Watching the two masters argue over who would pick up the bill entertained everyone, except Missus Jō, who finally whispered something into Sensei’s ear.
“Okay, Lizzy reminds me that we are your guests and to be grateful receivers. So, to you, my friend, I say thank you.” Doctor Jō raised his wineglass to the French coach. “Congratulations on a successful World Kendo Championship.”
Everyone raised their glasses. With only two glasses of wine, Oscar had already felt tipsy. Now, on his third, he decided he better be careful.
Oscar’s match with his Japanese counterpart ended as Oscar had suspected.
He lost. But his victory came by scoring the first point, something that surprised them both.
Even through the face mask, Oscar could see the shock on the young man’s face.
His opponent scored the next three points, hard and fast. But Oscar’s teammates all celebrated with him.
The men’s team results put Japan on the top of the podium, Korea in second and France and the USA shared third.
“You did well, Oscar,” Joseph said and clinked his glass.
“I wish that were true,” Oscar lamented. As the captain of their team, Joseph had won all of his fights. “You are the one to be congratulated,” Oscar said and raised his wine glass to his friend.
“I watched you fight, you’re quite accomplished,” a woman’s voice with a French accent came from behind.
Oscar turned to see their pretty French tour guide and translator who had accompanied their team for the last four days.
Several of his teammates talked about wanting to hook up with her after the competition.
Oscar smiled at her, then turned back to Joseph, who gave him a smirk and raised his glass to him again.
“May I join you?” she asked and sat next to Oscar before receiving an answer.
Oscar looked at Joseph, pleading for help. But instead of throwing him a lifeline, Joseph excused himself. “Oh…eh…I need to tell Doctor Jō something.”
“I’m Elle,” the woman held out her hand. “You are Oscar.”
Oscar shook her hand. Then, to cover his shyness, he took a drink of wine.
Not feeling any braver, he took a second glance at the woman.
She smiled at him. She was quite pleasant to look at, and, truth be told, he had stolen looks at her along with the rest of the men’s team.
With her charming French accent, bubbly personality, and silky blouses filled with full breasts, she was impossible not to notice.
Tonight, her dark wavy hair and graceful features highlighted in bright red lipstick glowed in the dancing light of the gas lamps on the terrace.
Her perfume mixed perfectly with the sweet fragrance of the lilacs that surrounded them.
“Did you lose your voice in the competition?” she teased and laughed softly.
Oscar cleared his throat and sat straight. He looked at her and then around at the crowd. The only person who paid attention to the interaction was Missus Jō who smiled at him. Did she set me up?
“What do you think of France?” the woman asked. “Is this your first time here?”
Oscar decided he’d better be polite if Missus Jō had sent her his way.
“It’s something…” he said, trying to find the right words, any words.
“Oh, good, he does speak,” she teased him again, making him laugh. “Oh, and look, he has a sense of humor.”
Oscar looked at her and blew out a breath. “Look…you don’t need to do this. I’m not sure who set you up to this, but…”
“I just don’t know what ya’ll mean?” she said with a Southern belle accent. “Little ol’ me, just wanted to come meet ya’ll.” She playfully batted her eyelids. Then she switched back to a French accent, “But if you don’t want my company…” She stuck out her bottom lip for effect.
Her flirty accents made Oscar laugh.
She then turned serious. “Truly, I’ve wanted to talk to you since the day the team arrived. And you really are an amazing fighter.”
“And…” Oscar smiled.
“And Missus Jō said you’re a really nice guy. Sometimes those are hard to find.”
“Okay, okay, sorry…I just thought the guys had set you up to mess with me.”
“And why would they do that?”
“Oh, you know…rookie thing. And besides, I just got out of a terrible relationship…got cheated on.”
Oscar looked at her as she sat back in her chair and sipped her wine. He regretted being so vulnerable with her. She truly was stunning.
“L’amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie.”
Oscar was enchanted by the sound of her French, whatever she had said. But he thought he’d better ask. “Are you going to tell me what that means?”
“Love makes life’s sweetest pleasures and worst misfortunes,” she said and looked at the floor. “Truly, I’m sorry that you have been hurt. But I hear the team is staying for a few more days.” She searched Oscar with her dark eyes. “May I have the pleasure of showing you around Paris?”