I remember while training at the El Monte studio, every so often, someone would approach Jimmy with the question, “Do we (San Soo practitioners) enter tournaments?”

Jimmy’s reaction was always the same. He would chuckle and smile at the absurdity of the question. If the person asking was one of Jimmy’s students interested in competition, I’d cringe because I knew in Jimmy’s mind, that student had “lost face” and shown a complete failure in comprehending the art of San Soo.

At those times, Jimmy would patiently but sternly explain, “No, we don’t. The art of San Soo is pure fighting technique, designed for street fighting. My life or yours! Fighting isn’t for play, it’s for real.”

Jimmy often told the story of the tournament he was invited to.  (If you read the article in this web site entitled, “Fight to Live - The Legacy of Jimmy H. Woo” it explains what happened.)

When Jimmy would get to the end of the tournament story he would always say something to the effect of “All I wanted to do was explain to the crowd why I fought the way I did. My art, we fight to hurt the opponent. We don’t play. It’s my life or yours. I don’t compete for fun. Fighting isn’t fun, it’s ugly. I fight someone I’m going to do for them the best I can. You can’t tell me to follow rules, because on the street there are no rules. You fight to live; not to play for fun.”

“You want to play, go somewhere else. You want to fight and do the best you can, you do San Soo.” If I go to a tournament, they limit what I can do. They tell me I can’t kick to the groin, I can’t break bones, I can’t take my opponents knee out, I can’t gouge his eye and so on. If I do what they want, then I’m not fighting my fight, I’m fighting their fight. It’s like having a gun and being told not to use bullets. If you can’t use it totally, it’s of no use to you. Fighting is for real and when you’re on the street there are no rules or regulations. I don’t have anything to prove to anybody, what do I care about a tournament? Somebody wants to try me, well that’s something else. I’ll bury them before they blink. I fight for survival, not for play.”

One thing Jimmy always taught was if you are going to do something, do your best. In the Bible, Paul writes in a letter to the church in Corinth, “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. (1 Corinthians 10:312).  Many people will put off the things that need to be done today, saying they’ll do them tomorrow. Unfortunately, tomorrow never comes. Some people will work hard and seem to receive no acknowledgment for their efforts. Yet others, who work less, are promoted on the “It’s not what you know, but who you know” theory.  Why should any of us do our best, if we are not getting anything out of it? The answer is simple.  Deep inside, many people possess a level of acceptability.  The acceptability rests on their sense of honor and self esteem.  Regardless of the circumstances, they do their best for no other reason than self satisfaction.

I knew one woman who was a single mother with four children.  Each day she took a two-hour bus ride each way to work.  At her work she made minimum wage.  “Quit and go on welfare,” many people told her.  She would simply answer, “I can work, so I work.”

As many know, Jimmy Woo absolutely believed his family’s fighting art was the “best.” San Soo to Jimmy was not abstract theory or rule mandated simulated fighting, it was real life scientific street fighting based on one goal - winning.  An accomplished veteran in China and the United States of countless street fights, many people knew him as “Jimmy the fighter.”  A man of confidence and ability, he never showed fear and would literally “fight at the drop of a hat” if forced to.  Fiercely proud of his art, when challenges came, he had no qualms in confronting others to prove his San Soo was the best.

I remember once watching Jimmy at Los Angeles City College’s gym as part of a Kung Fu Exhibition Day.  Instructors in many different styles of Kung Fu were present. Those instructors gave demonstrations of their various styles and talked about how their Kung Fu was a “fighting art.” Toward the end of the exhibition Jimmy was called out to demonstrate San Soo.  As Jimmy walked onto the gym floor, confidence and strength literally radiated from his person, quieting the crowd without a word.  As all eyes focused on the man explaining “His art!”  Jimmy announced San Soo was the only style of Kung Fu designed solely for street fighting.  As he was explaining this, he suddenly barked out a challenge to all the other instructors and their students. His challenge - If anyone believed their Kung Fu was better than “his” they could “Come up and show me.  My life or yours.”  I’ll never forget watching Jimmy at that time and noticing his eyes were set like a tiger’s ready to strike. He turned and looked throughout the silenced gym for anyone to take his challenge.  No one did.

Although this little story demonstrates Jimmy’s fighting heart; it is his “other heart” that I will also remember.  His heart of kindness.  Jimmy frequently demonstrated a kind and loving nature to those he cared about. I never saw one small child come into the studio that Jimmy didn’t take the time to talk to and buy a bottle of coke from his soda machine.  To those of us who were older, his kindness took on the love of a surrogate father.

Personally, when I began training with Jimmy in my late teens, I had no strong father figure to imitate.  Recognizing this, Jimmy took me, like he did many others, “Under his wing.”  I’ll never forget the “Father-son” talks we had.  Always seemingly in general conversation, Jimmy made sure I understood, “Don’t drink, don’t gamble, and don’t lie. Have honor, be fair, and treat others in like you want to be treated.”  These and many other moral guidelines were preached to me repeatedly by Jimmy.  Because I loved Jimmy so much, I never questioned his directions.  His kindness and guidance effect my life even today.  So much so that I pass on to my own sons as well as my students, the same value’s Jimmy taught me.  One of these values was maintaining a humble heart.  Not humble in the sense of letting others walk over me, humble in the manner of not thinking myself better than others and not being a bully.  I remember going to an instructor’s seminar after Jimmy’s death and seeing a few instructors who freely demonstrated the “chip on their shoulder” attitude.  The “I’m tougher than you” type of demeanor that has all the ear marks of a bully.  Their walk, the manner they held themselves, the condescending if not arrogant way they talked to others, their facial expression, etc., all cried out, “I’m a tough guy and I can prove it.”  How sad, I thought, that these men never met Jimmy, or if they did, they didn’t listen to him. You see, Jimmy always told me some of the easiest people to fight are the ones who think they’re tough.  The one’s who believed they could never be hurt and that they were better than others.  “Many times you’ll get hurt in a fight.  Understand and accept that,” Jimmy would say, “and you’ll do alright.  But if a person thinks they’re tough, they can’t accept being hit.  If you fight that kind of person, you hit that person once and their mind freezes.  He gets hit and he can’t comprehend what’s going on. All he thinks is he’s too good to get hit and when he does, his mind goes blank.  By the time he comes back to his senses you’ve hit him more and won the fight.” “Sam” he said one time, “You don’t have to act tough, all you need is confidence.”