The following is the edited text that will appear in the UK Martial Arts press:
Terry Pottage is one of the pioneering superstars of the English karate scene. Despite his small frame he was known as an aggressive and determined fighter in the days of open weight, seemingly unlimited contact, Shobu Ippon competition. Additionally he was (and remains) a formidable kata exponent. In 1980 he formed the very successful KenYu Kai organisation and remains its head instructor. However he is now better known as an international referee of some repute. It is in this capacity that I spoke to him recently. A softly spoken, self effacing man he was very keen to insist that we dwelt on the contributions and achievements of the EKGB and EKF (European Karate Federation) referees above personal self aggrandisement. Nevertheless it is his personal qualities of determination and persistence that have taken him to his current elevated, respected position in the WKF Refereeing Council and therefore this should not go unmentioned.
Terry is in many ways an old school “hard man”. Introduced to karate in the golden age of the early 1970s, he counts among his peers Ticky Donovan, Billy Higgins, Steve Cattle, Peter Consterdine and Roy Stanhope. His family were estranged from their father when he was very young and he grew up having to look after himself and his family. Growing up in a tough area of Salford you had to be a survivor. He told me; “in one tournament in Sheffield (in the 1970’s) I flattened a guy. Jumping Roundhouse kick- I got Ippon for it.” He chuckled as he added “The guy was on the deck”. As a competitor he was given the epithet “White Tornado” by his first instructor, Steve Powell. As an athlete (he ran for Manchester and was a 5’15”miler); as a motorcyclist and as a karate competitor he was a winner- always striving for nothing less than the best. And yet he is softly spoken, amiable, and has an air of warmth and encouragement in everything he does. This perhaps is the paradox of the martial arts. Certainly Terry’s attitude is an example to all of what karate is really about.
Although I knew of his reputation as a karateka (I had trained with some of his protégés, such as Joe Tierney and Bev Morris) and was aware of his high position in the EKGB and EKF, I was not until recently well-acquainted with him and was somewhat in awe of a man of such stature. That his first approach to me was in the form of a request on behalf of the EKGB’s refereeing squad, and not an attempt at self promotion is an indication of his modesty. Benign self-confidence, however, is a common trait amongst the great. What really took me aback was his driving sense of philanthropy: a belief that he could do good, and that good is something fundamentally worth doing.
He turned up at my place with his well-worn gi loosely - casually- held together by his obi, under one arm and a large lever-arch file under the other. He knew that I had requested some old photographs, and that there would be a photo shoot. Not for him, though the pristine Daz-white uniform of a “Dojo Sensei” (his term for the sort who stands at the front lording it over his serfs, having stopped training years ago- he spoke with disdain - if not contempt - of such people). No, Terry Pottage always has been, and is still, prepared to mix it with the best, and his slightly grey dog-eared kit bore all the evidence of that.
Typically, he entered the world of refereeing with the intent to improve what he saw as a flawed system. He says of his motivation: “I was very dissatisfied with the quality of the officials. I was never one to complain, or make a scene on the mat. I wasn’t happy with a bad decision, but I’d just take it on the chin. So I just got through the first stages of refereeing qualification, and I found I adapted to it very quickly.”
He admits “It was difficult, but I was quite determined. It has been that way with my whole life really.” But despite his aggressive reputation as a fighter on and off the mat, his approach to reforming the world of refereeing was more subtle: “If I am not happy with something, I don’t stand outside and throw stones at it.” Nevertheless, Pottage was on a crusade. In spite of his adherence to the credo of respect, he is not one to succumb to blind obedience to the establishment. Rather he chose to reform from within- to supplant the old guard. “If I am not happy, I get in there at ground level, and give reasons why I want to do things. The established guys then, if they are not happy, they just get pushed out.” Sure enough, he rose to the position of Chief referee in the EKC: “Then I moved on to England. My first international qualification was in 1983 at Crystal Palace- European Judge. I then moved on… I don’t think I have ever missed a full year of international competition. 1987 I tried for World qualification, but I wasn’t successful. Then it was in 1988, in Mexico actually, that I got my international qualification. I then took over as chief referee in the EKC, and in that rôle until the formation of the EKGB.” And, almost naturally, with the unification with the EKB into the EKGB “..because I was the highest qualified in the country the EKGB agreed I take on the rôle with the EKGB. When we were formed, certain (unnamed) elements were quite disruptive, but I shot them down in flames because I knew the rules very well.” Despite this apparent self assurance, his was not the dictatorial, autocratic style of the old guard. Preferring a consultative, developmental approach, he told me; “Previous incumbents used to talk down to you. They were very critical. I have a development programme; I bring people on with an attitude of encouragement, not confrontation.”
That is not to say however that Terry Pottage was or is a soft touch. “Occasionally, very occasionally, I’ll give someone a bollocking, but they will take it on the chin because they’ll know I’m not doing it for any other reason than I was there, they’ve done something wrong. They must understand.” Usually, though his approach depends on the fact that it takes time and tact to finally bring people around to his way of thinking. A thoughtful and clever tactician, he is not slow to recognise the abilities of others, and indeed is always ready to acknowledge the contributions of his allies and colleagues. “Doug James has been a great help to me, as has Billy Brennan. Now I still run things past them.”
Now, although modest (but not coy) about his own abilities and contribution, Terry is much more concerned about the development of others. This manifests itself both in the way that he runs KenYuKai and in the manner that he manages England’s referees. He talks of his charges as protégés in the true sense of the word. He keeps a paternal, protective, proud wing over his charges, but he then makes stiff demands on them as they make their way in the harsh real world. He is animated as he tells me of the advancements of the English in the world of International refereeing. “We now have five World Officials: Dale Gamble, Billy Brennan, Brian Noble, Doug James and Nariman Jeddi. We are rated number five in the world for officials. We have 10 at European level. The refereeing scene has never ever been this healthy in this country.”
Like a good father (perhaps in reaction to his childhood experiences without a father figure? I never asked him) he is quick to bring the successes of his “children” to the attention of the public, whilst tempering their successes with the right measure of managed encouragement, and- having established that the time is right- stiff demands with harsh discipline. More often though he speaks with pride about his charges, whether it’s Kenyukai students, Kenyukai instructors, or the English refereeing squad.
I asked him about the impact of the Olympics on sport, and the impact of sport on the wider ethics of karate. He was typically forthright on this subject: “There are guys in the EKGB hierarchy who do not appreciate that sport karate is a shop-window to the world. And of course the appeal in sport karate is the values. Exactly the same values present in traditional karate; the respect; the bow, discipline, self-esteem. All those values of traditional karate are actually in the sport, because they have to bow, show respect. We are all doing the same thing.” Does he think that there is more to be gained for the art of karate from Olympic recognition, than may be lost through excessive watering down of rules concentration on winning etc.?
“I think that it would bring it more to the fore and bring it to the attention of a wider public, and providing that we have the right coaches out there who promote those values, then it is an education.”
And the people who only do karate for the sport, but don’t take away the dojo values?
“They are just wasting time. People like that are just takers and should be taken out of the system. I don’t blame them too much. If they are allowed to get through the system the coaches are at fault.”
To underline this commitment to a higher morality, all his junior students are made to chant a declaration, a Kun of commitment to club, coach and to themselves. Typical of the attitude that karate is for life, Terry said; One of the things I say to the kids when they start with me is; ‘Is your bedroom tidy?’ and of course the kids say ‘What’s that got to do with learning karate?’ I tell them that it shows respect. If your mum and dad are paying for your lessons then you have to help them in return, by keeping your room tidy. All of a sudden you create respect with the family. There is a discipline. I say ‘if you can tidy your room, do your homework before you go out with your mates, even when they are already out playing, that’s self discipline’. Sometimes the message sticks. That’s why we do the dojo Kun, the oath. And the reason they face the back is so they can declare it with pride to the parents and the public.”
In many ways, the refereeing fraternity are always the underdogs. With little or no external funding, they are expected to give up almost every weekend for often less than their out-of-pocket expenses. If they are not on the domestic circuit, they are on refresher courses, or (usually self-funded) international trips. And instead of the glamour of the podium and the silverware, all that awaits them is the criticism of a wiser-than-thou public. The demands on them are high. Always expected to advance; “The system I have now, if someone gets a qualification they are expected to qualify to the next level within 2 years, which then allows me to put more people through, so I put a lot of pressure on them in that respect”. Again always thinking of others, “you can see these guys are really committed so they deserve to be treated fairly. And there are guys in the EKGB who say that we shouldn’t support the sport”
I note that his own experience, and that of many of the world’s top referees, is based on a career at top-level competition. I wonder if this is a necessary prerequisite? “Having knowledge of competition is important; I don’t necessarily think you have to have been an international. There are people who have come through, who have done no more than dojo fighting. But if you look at the people who have come through, all have competed at a certain level. Not all have competed at international level, not all have been successful. But they have all developed qualities that are honed in competition. I think there will be a level that some will reach where they can’t go to the next level because you need to be sympathetic to the competitors and to understand how they react.”
He goes on to explain that it doesn’t end there. Once you earn the right to a blazer and tie, that is not the call to hang up your do gi. Far from it. “I insist on all my guys putting on a gi and training. Because I say when the athletes get out there, they have been training, and you’ve got to be sharp. You have to move around the area fast enough, your eye must be fast enough and your reaction time must be (clicks fingers).”
“And when I do a kata judges’ course, everyone has to train. And I can tell if they are just a “Dojo Sensei”, or if they train, put their gi on regularly. If I can do a kata to a high standard, I can show them; ‘This is what you are supposed to feel’.”
In karate and in refereeing, Terry believes in leadership by example. “.and I’ve always been the same. I don’t expect people to do what I can’t do. I have to have a good understanding of what I am trying to teach: verbally or physically, so I can get the message across. That’s a responsibility I understand.. that’s why in all the years I’ve been Chief Referee, no-one has really gone against me. They’ve all enjoyed the environment because we help each other.”
Does he ever feel that as a chief instructor, competitor, teacher, referee, administrator and manager he is ever compromised? “No. I’ve never put myself in a position to be compromised. For example, with my squad, you never see me down by the area because that may be seen to be influencing the officials. Because of course I know people who have historically done exactly that. Like going to stand by the other referees, watching your country’s competitor, coaching side.”
We talked about the dominance of styles in competitive kata. Terry agrees that the current ruling, of Shitei (compulsory) and Tokui (favourite) katas gives the performers the best opportunity to shine, whilst maintaining a consistent standard. However, of course first you have to decide what is the “correct” way. “I went to Japan in 1984/85 when we did a referees’ seminar and they set the standard for the katas. So they showed this video tape and they said ‘this is how it’s going to be- the JKF have agreed all this.’ The following day we went down and the same people were doing the kata differently! So we were all agreed on something and now the same people were changing things. And one guy (a Shitoryu high grade), he came out and started checking in a book!”. He is clearly frustrated by what he sees as inconsistency at world level. “The rules say very very clearly there should be no variation, which is very difficult to deal with. So what I say is we must be one of two things: we either stick to those rules rigidly, or we make it so any kata is ok- you do not restrict it at all. To my way of thinking you really have to free those shackles. You allow variations, but you keep them minimal. You wouldn’t put a kick in where there was a punch. You wouldn’t change direction for example; don’t add flowery bits. So far as the shitei katas go it was a move in the right direction. But until you police it properly, and if someone does it wrong you disqualify them, it’s a pointless exercise.”
He is critical too of the stubborn rigidity of the Japanese hierarchy. On the Japanese course, one senior Shito-Ryu sensei “never got a sweat on. It’s something I insist upon. If you have a gi on, you have to get a sweat on. And the whole thing just disillusioned me. It made me think, we as Europeans are not actually that backward. Prior to that you used to think: ‘The Japanese..’ you just had that respect. ‘They are the ultimate authority’. And that experience dented that quite badly. I felt after that, that we Europeans have much more to offer.”
He cites Tommy Morris as a major influence in the change for good in the World Refereeing Commission. “I don’t always agree with Tommy’s methods- we have a very different approach- but we might just see things get done. Tommy again is coming up against resistance from the Japanese.”
Terry is not frightened of progressive thoughts, even in the harshly traditional world of karate. “I’m not frightened of change. I want to do whatever’s best. If this kata system isn’t successful, I think we have to have the balls to say ‘let’s try something different’. Let’s try it. Say ‘any kata you want’. Be radical. Say; ‘Do what you want. If you like, make it up’. But you can’t do it more than once. Of course it must be in a traditional vein. No music, for example. I’m not against other forms you see, but I think in this context you should keep it traditional. I think the bunkai for example is a great development.”
I asked why he thought kata tournament was dominated by Shotokan and Shitoryu. Terry admitted to a love of the Goju kata. He said of their failure to get recognition on the tournament circuit; “I think you’ve got two problems here. Firstly in the current restrictive lists, Wado and Goju have a small list to draw from. And I just feel that Wado kata have never been pushed. In the early days Shotokan was dominant. When I did my first European qualification, I did Seienchin, and all these guys were going, “What was that?” Because they’d not seen Shukokai. I think that Wado, and certainly Goju people do not think of themselves as... they think “we are very traditional and competition is not for us”.
And yet he says, of the Yamaguch Gojukai team, successful in many domestic competitions; “They were fantastic.. they were very intense. I was very impressed. And I bet every one of those Goju lads actually understood what they were doing as well. And others may just play…” He conceded of Wado Ryu “because of the nature, the tai-sabaki, nagashiwaza, can sometimes not be as visual (as Shotokan). Maybe it’s a lack of education of the kata judges”. He encourages all stylists to “Get in there. Let them educate us.” and adds that his advice to his officials is always; “If you see someone who does absolutely everything (technically) but has got no heart, and then you see a guy who(‘s intensity of performance) hits you between the eyes, then they have to win it every time.”
He sees kata and kumite as of equivalent status in karate, and encourages participation in both disciplines. He remarks on the success of England’s Michelle Hey who manages to win titles in both. “I love to watch quality kata. It does annoy me sometimes when we go abroad when the squad don’t watch the kata. Even as a kumite competitor what you are getting is attitude. The correctness of things. I always used to compete with both kumite and kata and I am absolutely convinced that good kata helps good kumite; and when the kumite days are on the wane, the kata is still there. I have always believed that people should be encouraged to do both.”
Terry believes very strongly in the values ethic, and the power of karate to instil, develop, and define those values. He recalls his Catholic upbringing, and notes: “You have to learn respect for the family, the church and all that. I didn’t realise ’til I started karate that I had this.”
He still spars with all his senior and junior students;” It’s good to have that involvement. I’ve never had a belief that you need to hide anything. I have accumulated an amount of knowledge, and I will give anything to anyone who wants to learn”. He tells me stories of former students, current students, and returning students who have “come good” with successes in business, academia or family life, with the pride of a father.
In all this he both acknowledges his teachers, notably Steve Powell-“ not a competitor. A great karate man… I will always give him credit. I think the values, maybe, came from him” and his students: “I have been successful within karate and it’s my duty to pass that back on and to give enthusiasm, encouragement and patience. I get frustrated sometimes, of course, and people walk away, but all you can do is give them encouragement. Joe Tierney, for example our mutual friend, walked away for good personal reasons, but I think he would still consider himself my student..and good luck to him”.
The harsh-but-fair, persistent, patient, diplomatic but determined Pottage concludes: “I don’t think I have any enemies in karate, because I treat everyone the same”. I see no reason to disagree with him.
Martyn Skipper, September 2005
To read the full, unabridged transcript of this interview, click here 
