Around 1967 I was a brown belt. We were still studying at the Summit dojo along with weekday classes given by Frank Brita at Fairleigh Dickinson University, and were following strict Isshin ryu teachings. One day Soke announced there was a tournament in Trenton so Chas. Cusumano approached me asking if I’d be interested in going. I was up for it so we, along with another brown belt whose name I forget, agreed to drive down together. I was just learning Sanchin Dai so chose it as my kata. I remember getting a trophy, but I’m pretty sure it was for third place. Then came kumite that set the stage for a lifetime friendship with Mr. Cusumano. He watched me get my ribs cracked in the kumite portion of the tournament. It was a bit comical. I was hit with a well-placed side kick in the right ribs going down in twisted, spasmatic pain. Ralph Cherico thought I was crunched in the groin so came behind me, grabbed me in a bear hug around the torso where the injured rib was (that’s right), lifted me up with the intent of bouncing me demanding that I stiffen my legs so that my family jewelry would drop down. But that wasn’t what was wrong, obviously, and the more he tightened around my torso the more he traumatized the injury. I couldn’t breath and finally Bill Breesaw came over and told Ralph that he didn’t think I was hit in the groin and that he should stop bouncing me with legs that I kept limp thus frustrating Ralph’s efforts that would have increased the pain even more. Then your brother came over and reinforced Bill’s observation. Ralph stopped bouncing me apologizing profusely. Then he went to work massaging my ribs. Nice of him to do so, but still not helping.
When the tournament was over Chuck suggested that before we made the trip back up the Turnpike, we stop at a bar to have a few beers. There was a sharp soreness in my rib cage, but I didn’t yet understand that they had been cracked. I wouldn’t find out for a few days when a doctor had them x-rayed. Ironic, radiology was what Chuck did for a living then. Anyway, we stopped off for a couple of brews and had a great laugh at Ralph’s mistake, but quickly observed that his heart was always in the right place and he was a great mentor to both of us. Our laughing only made my ribs hurt worse. You should know, it was that comradery in the bar that cemented my friendship with Chuck. Chuck is gone now, but so many things remind me of the special bond we had, and the many other common interests we developed, the most notable being our hiking and camping trips into the Catskills and Ramapos, sometimes even through snow storms. How carefree and fearless we were back then.
Ron
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