Yoshida Sees Test, Opportunity in Koscheck
A Madman’s Protégé
Tony Loiseleur Dec 9, 2008
“Take a look at the replay and talk us through the finish of the
fight.”
Though UFC pay-per-view analyst Joe Rogan’s words were simple, familiar English, they were quite foreign to Yoshiyuki Yoshida.
“Oh,” mumbled Yoshida, uncertain as to what Rogan wanted him to
do.
“Or not,” Rogan said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “That’s what we call the anaconda choke.”
Yoshida’s eyes lit up, as he finally caught the gist of Rogan’s words, to which he replied in Japanese, “Yes, I will return.”
Yoshida (10-2) -- a winner in nine straight bouts -- posed for the home viewing audience and flashed a gold octagon-shaped medallion with his name in kanji encircled within it.
The sequence of events was not at all unexpected and made for some awkward but endearing comedy at the expense of the gentleman from Japan. Displaying martial prowess, a penchant for oversized jewelry and little command of English or UFC post-fight procedure, Yoshida fit well into Western stereotypes of Japanese mixed martial artists.
Westerners tend to expect the fun-loving Dokonjonosuke Mishimas or go-for-broke charismatics like Rumina Sato to show incontrovertible evidence that all Japanese men are “samurai.” In cases in which they do not, people tend to think Japanese fighters should be offbeat and crafty, like a Masakazu Imanari or a Genki Sudo. After all, Japan’s that magical place of multi-colored spandex pants, giant robots and schoolgirl ninjas.
Yoshida had to sacrifice
to become a UFC fighter.
Madman’s protégé
Yoshida’s a hip-hop fan and former physical education teacher turned full-time fighter.
“It was too bad I had to give it up, but to be a UFC fighter, you need to sacrifice,” Yoshida says. “I’d love to return to teaching someday, but not as a school teacher. I just want to teach judo.”
Finding a full-time fighter in Japan is rare, unless said competitor happens to be a mainstay of a large promotion. As many have learned, training full-time is a must in order to compete at the sport’s highest levels, but most fighters in Japan cannot afford to do so. For the majority hacking it on the grassroots circuit, much like Yoshida before his UFC jaunt, bussing tables by day only to train at night is a sobering reality of combat sports.
Yoshida now has the luxury of being able to spend the better part of his days in the gym perfecting his craft. However, that’s not the only trait that sets him apart from the majority of his Japanese peers. Yoshida also trains in ways that seem more akin to the mentalities and regimens of Western fighters.
A far cry from the overtraining seen in many traditional Japanese martial artists and gyms, Yoshida does not spar with the intent to kill or be killed two weeks short of a fight. Instead, he works timing and precision, much the way professional boxers do. He also does not engage in non-essential hard workouts just days before competing, as he has adopted strictly scheduled plyometrics drills and circuit training. Yoshida also invests in peaking and maintaining his level of fitness before the bout, rather than wearing himself down to an injury-prone husk come fight time.
Yoshida cut his teeth in Greatest Common Multiple’s cage-based D.O.G. and Cage Force promotions. In a country where the cage is virtually non-existent, it’s no wonder he has become one of the country’s premier Japanese cage fighters.
“I think the experience in the cage made a big difference for me. All that time in the cage made me stronger,” Yoshida says. “I feel like I adapted to it quickly because I didn't have much experience fighting in a ring. Fighters who fight often in the ring adapt their styles to it, making it difficult to adapt to the cage later. Also, for any fighter debuting in the cage, what’s important and often overlooked are wrestling skills. Regarding elbows, I always use them during training, as well, so that's why I’ve adapted to using them.”
While Yoshida’s cage savvy is refreshing for a Japanese fighter, its roots run deeper than his innate talents. Before he became Yoshida the Cage Fighter, Yoshida the judoka had to get his MMA game from somewhere.
“In transitioning from Judo, everything I learned about MMA I learned from [Noboru Asahi],” Yoshida says.
“Kijin” Asahi holds distinction as a Japanese MMA forefather. Having debuted in Shooto in 1990, he was the promotion’s 143-pound champion for seven years, until he relinquished the title to Alexandre Franca Nogueira just before he hung up the gloves in favor of teaching and painting.
Off the record, Asahi’s easy-going and exuberant in sharing his ideas and opinions. He jumps from topic to topic at a steady pace, like the themes and subjects of his paintings. His small gym on the outskirts of the capital city is equal parts martial arts workshop and art gallery, hosting classic Shooto posters and his own paintings, the latest of which features caricatures of Kevin “Kimbo Slice” Ferguson and Gina Carano. Asahi thinks both are “outstanding characters.”
Tokyo Yellow Mans is much more than a musty room where fighters beat on each other every day. Asahi’s renditions of a punching Slice rest between the faded posters advertising Shooto world title bouts at Tokyo Bay NK Hall, the hastily sketched grinning suns, the spirals and food items strewn across the tops of the surrounding wall padding, the thickly brushed black outlines and the dollops of red and white paint; it’s one of the most visually engaging gyms in the country.
It’s in this setting that Yoshida spends his days training under the charismatic instruction of a self-professed -- but enlightened -- madman.
Though UFC pay-per-view analyst Joe Rogan’s words were simple, familiar English, they were quite foreign to Yoshiyuki Yoshida.
Advertisement
“Or not,” Rogan said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “That’s what we call the anaconda choke.”
With the interview having gone south, Rogan finished quickly and
told Yoshida’s manager, Shu Hirata, “Well, please tell him
congratulations and, uh, we look forward to seeing him again.”
Yoshida’s eyes lit up, as he finally caught the gist of Rogan’s words, to which he replied in Japanese, “Yes, I will return.”
Yoshida (10-2) -- a winner in nine straight bouts -- posed for the home viewing audience and flashed a gold octagon-shaped medallion with his name in kanji encircled within it.
The sequence of events was not at all unexpected and made for some awkward but endearing comedy at the expense of the gentleman from Japan. Displaying martial prowess, a penchant for oversized jewelry and little command of English or UFC post-fight procedure, Yoshida fit well into Western stereotypes of Japanese mixed martial artists.
Westerners tend to expect the fun-loving Dokonjonosuke Mishimas or go-for-broke charismatics like Rumina Sato to show incontrovertible evidence that all Japanese men are “samurai.” In cases in which they do not, people tend to think Japanese fighters should be offbeat and crafty, like a Masakazu Imanari or a Genki Sudo. After all, Japan’s that magical place of multi-colored spandex pants, giant robots and schoolgirl ninjas.
Daniel
Herbertson/Sherdog.com
to become a UFC fighter.
Yoshida’s a hip-hop fan and former physical education teacher turned full-time fighter.
“It was too bad I had to give it up, but to be a UFC fighter, you need to sacrifice,” Yoshida says. “I’d love to return to teaching someday, but not as a school teacher. I just want to teach judo.”
Finding a full-time fighter in Japan is rare, unless said competitor happens to be a mainstay of a large promotion. As many have learned, training full-time is a must in order to compete at the sport’s highest levels, but most fighters in Japan cannot afford to do so. For the majority hacking it on the grassroots circuit, much like Yoshida before his UFC jaunt, bussing tables by day only to train at night is a sobering reality of combat sports.
Yoshida now has the luxury of being able to spend the better part of his days in the gym perfecting his craft. However, that’s not the only trait that sets him apart from the majority of his Japanese peers. Yoshida also trains in ways that seem more akin to the mentalities and regimens of Western fighters.
A far cry from the overtraining seen in many traditional Japanese martial artists and gyms, Yoshida does not spar with the intent to kill or be killed two weeks short of a fight. Instead, he works timing and precision, much the way professional boxers do. He also does not engage in non-essential hard workouts just days before competing, as he has adopted strictly scheduled plyometrics drills and circuit training. Yoshida also invests in peaking and maintaining his level of fitness before the bout, rather than wearing himself down to an injury-prone husk come fight time.
Yoshida cut his teeth in Greatest Common Multiple’s cage-based D.O.G. and Cage Force promotions. In a country where the cage is virtually non-existent, it’s no wonder he has become one of the country’s premier Japanese cage fighters.
“I think the experience in the cage made a big difference for me. All that time in the cage made me stronger,” Yoshida says. “I feel like I adapted to it quickly because I didn't have much experience fighting in a ring. Fighters who fight often in the ring adapt their styles to it, making it difficult to adapt to the cage later. Also, for any fighter debuting in the cage, what’s important and often overlooked are wrestling skills. Regarding elbows, I always use them during training, as well, so that's why I’ve adapted to using them.”
While Yoshida’s cage savvy is refreshing for a Japanese fighter, its roots run deeper than his innate talents. Before he became Yoshida the Cage Fighter, Yoshida the judoka had to get his MMA game from somewhere.
“In transitioning from Judo, everything I learned about MMA I learned from [Noboru Asahi],” Yoshida says.
“Kijin” Asahi holds distinction as a Japanese MMA forefather. Having debuted in Shooto in 1990, he was the promotion’s 143-pound champion for seven years, until he relinquished the title to Alexandre Franca Nogueira just before he hung up the gloves in favor of teaching and painting.
Off the record, Asahi’s easy-going and exuberant in sharing his ideas and opinions. He jumps from topic to topic at a steady pace, like the themes and subjects of his paintings. His small gym on the outskirts of the capital city is equal parts martial arts workshop and art gallery, hosting classic Shooto posters and his own paintings, the latest of which features caricatures of Kevin “Kimbo Slice” Ferguson and Gina Carano. Asahi thinks both are “outstanding characters.”
Tokyo Yellow Mans is much more than a musty room where fighters beat on each other every day. Asahi’s renditions of a punching Slice rest between the faded posters advertising Shooto world title bouts at Tokyo Bay NK Hall, the hastily sketched grinning suns, the spirals and food items strewn across the tops of the surrounding wall padding, the thickly brushed black outlines and the dollops of red and white paint; it’s one of the most visually engaging gyms in the country.
It’s in this setting that Yoshida spends his days training under the charismatic instruction of a self-professed -- but enlightened -- madman.
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