Looking into the Abyss

All alone in the locker room, a completely weakened Michael took off his bandages, looking like a puppet without strings. On the floor by his feet, white spiral of discarded gauze slowly formed into a mountain. Finally, with his unbridled left hand, he covered his face. There was nothing to say as I watched his muscular shoulders tremble. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, I was looking at a defeated man.

Since the turn of the century, Martial Arts have been brutally effective at separating the winners from the losers. Once that bell signals the end of the fight, a huge abyss is created between those who are victorious, and those who are not. Even if the margin of victory is only wafer-thin, you can measure the distance between defeat and victory in miles. And where does the loser end up? Alone, staring into complete darkness.

I wonder if Michael is staring into this darkness.

From the start, I wanted to see Michael Yano separate from the rest of the martial arts media. Because it seemed like Michael was treating kickboxing as a consolation prize—a mere stepping-stone on his way back to glory. Most reports glorified his career in J-League and were all basically “positive press.” In truth, even an article I wrote for Number magazine was very favorable to Michael Yano. But I have no intention of treating Michael as “the next bright hope of kick boxing.” Instead, this is a story about the “ultimate loser.” He does have obvious physical and athletic gifts—that’s why he reached the J League so fast, skipping ahead of most of his peers. But in the world of professional soccer, Michael Yano just couldn’t find “the glory.”

On paper, it seemed like Michael was an athlete with a bright future. The press praised Michael with headlines like “16 years old super talent from Ghana!” and “Coach Baxter is Thrilled! Sensational Debut by Michael Yano!”

But sadly, Michael’s career never lived up to the headlines. He drifted from team to team, each time losing a little more luster on his star power.
Until it was gone.

From “J” to “K.”

This was the headline IKUSA created to advertise Michael Yano’s professional debut fight. However, for Michael, this was not even close to “The Great Transition.” It was just another step on the long path to success. Once he spoke to me about at length.

The Day of Violence and Repudiation

“I never liked hitting people. It was just a weapon to protect my brothers and myself.”

To understand Michael, you have to understand where he came from. His mother is Ghanaian, and his father is Japanese. He first set foot on Japanese soil when he was ten years old.

A first-class architect, Michael’s father was deeply involved in the construction of the Dr. Hideyo Noguchi museum, and in Ghana he was a man of great distinction—with a comfortable income and high standard of living. But their affluence brought them trouble. They were targeted for a series of robberies by an obscure group of bandits. Because of these threats, Michael’s family decided to move to Japan.

IKUSA Producer Shingo Ozawa (left) is known for constantly discovering great new talent. Michael Yano definitely fit the bill.

But due to immigration law technicalities, Michael’s parents were forced to live separately—resulting in Michael and his two younger brothers ending up in a child care institution in Japan. In this dilapidated environment, Michael and his two brothers, who spoke little Japanese at the time quickly became the target of bullies.

“I was always thinking, ‘Why are we treated like this?’ I was different from the others, color of skin; my hair is all curly, why? That’s what I was thinking, constantly, so I always wanted to be pure Japanese.”

It certainly wasn’t easy for Michael growing up...losing both his nationality and family when he was in just the sixth grade. Then he was force to deal with everyday repudiation and violence. But fortunately, he soon found a sanctuary where he could prove his ability—the playing field.

“In junior high school, I had to play either volleyball or soccer. It was school rules. I remember playing soccer in Ghana when I was little. Of course, we didn’t have a real soccer ball so we were using ball made with socks.”

Michael had already acquired the reputation of a speedster, and became a starter on his soccer team in just his first year on the squad, arousing the jealousy of his teammates.

“Those elder students who were sort of running the whole show in school called me to the bathroom, then pushed me to the wall from behind and said, ‘Don’t get carried away,’ you know, threatened me. But I was physically superior so I whipped their butts. Then from that day, everyone around me, their attitude changed.”

Michael Yano is an extraordinary athlete, with only one obstacle—a lack of technique. At least, that’s what everyone thought at the time.

A bit of a social outcast, but redeemed by his athletic gifts—this became the story of Michael’s youth. His ability on the field got him noticed. But it also got him into trouble.

“Soccer was fun but our team was definitely an ‘one man team.’ So coach’s tactic was simple, ‘Once you get a ball, make sure to give to Michael,’ so actually there was no strategy. When I joined youth team of S-Pulse after I graduated from junior high school (seventh to ninth grade in the states), I had no knowledge of various strategies and movements in soccer so I really had a hard time at first. Some of my teammates were graduates of high school (tenth to twelfth grade in the states) so they were trying to act strong, telling me things like, ‘What a hell are you doing? You aren’t amateur, right?’ because I couldn’t even pass the ball properly. Sure, there were quarrels but I was most frustrated because I couldn’t fully explain what I wanted to say.”

These difficulties in communication continued to haunt Michael. During seven years of his pro soccer career, age sixteen to twenty-two, his inability to communicate effectively alienated him from his teammates, and eventually drove him out of J League altogether.

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