One of Mr Parker's black belts was a man with hands like lightning, Mr Steve Sanders (I understand that he has changed his name to Mr Steve Muhammad, but that was after I left the States). He had his own studio in Inglewood, but he would stop in from time to time, and I would drag him out on the mats, where he would proceed to tear me to pieces until I tired him out. I don't think I ever hit him, but he would patiently thrash me until finally he would smile and say, "That's enough for today! You've worn me out!" I've always had good stamina.
BTW: I suspect one reason I get so impatient with basketball players who strut and swagger is that I spent my teens with men who could kill someone barehanded in a moment, and every one of them was humble and mild.
One move Kenpo fighters love is the back-knuckle 反拳, but a lot of people from the less subtle styles (Japanese, Okinawan) don't think it has any power. Mr Sanders won tournament after tournament, but in one tournament, when he threw a perfect back-knuckle at his opponent’s head, the referee shook his head and said, "No power."
About a week later, when I was, as usual, at the studio, Mr Parker came out of his office roaring with laughter. He told us that Mr Sanders had come out of a supermarket with a bag full of groceries in his left arm when he was accosted by two muggers. He threw a back-knuckle at the first and he dropped like a damp towel. The other was about to run off when Mr Sanders picked a soda pop bottle out of his grocery bag, flipped it at the back of his head, and dropped him too. Then he ran to a payphone and called Mr Parker: "Ed, Ed, do you remember that referee who said my back-knuckle didn't have any power? Well, it does, it works!"
When Mr Parker had heard the circumstances, he asked, "Very good, Steve, but have you phoned the police?"
"Oh…. Yeah, how about that? I guess I should…."