We Lose Nothing: A story about Martial Artist and Coach Robin Bustamante
December 2019
There’s a lone donut waiting to be consumed between Robin and myself. It looks delicious, but I gesture for him to have it. As soon as I said, “go ahead,” I felt somewhat guilty inducing Robin to eat junk food, as he is getting ready to compete in a few months.
“Don’t worry, my diet isn’t so strict just yet. I just need to make sure I’m strong,” Robin says, as he consumes the donut whole.
We are perched up on the last remaining table in the corner of the café below the gym where Robin teaches. Around us, there are students trying to cram before an exam, employees finishing up last minute presentations, and there are no seats to be had. Maybe, the crowd is also plenty because the air conditioning is offering a solace against the muggy air outside.
Robin is between training sessions, and he is generous to give me some of his scarce time.
“Here, let me show you some footage of my last competition,” Robin says, flicking through his phone.
Robin Bustamante’s frame is lean, and he is as well mannered and soft-spoken as the day I first met him at the gym upstairs.
I turn my eyes to his phone, and immediately see the intensity Robin emanates in full contact competition. His opponent, who is visibly much taller, goes for a low kick. Robin seems unfazed as it hits his thigh, but in an instant, he strikes at his opponent’s shoulder. It’s a clean hit, and the taller opponent flinches back, then finally waves to the referee, signaling his submission.
After seeing the footage of his fight, I begin to really consider taking one of his classes, then, I ask him, “Were you always interested in Martial Arts growing up, did you start young?”
“Yeah. When you’re young you believe anything is possible, so when I saw Jackie Chan, Jet Li, or Bruce Lee in movies, I always emulated them, but then I was in an accident when I was eight. I broke my shin. After I recovered, my parents were always worried about me doing anything with my legs, so it wasn’t until later on in my life that I was able to really pick it up.”
Robin Bustamante splits his time training, and teaching three different styles: martial arts, boxing, and MMA. He is also about to compete at a Kyokushin Kenbukai competition in India, early next year. Apart from that, he is also involved with teaching self-defense classes at his local church, but most importantly he has a wife, Gila and son, Caleb whom he loves and spends time with.
I then ask, “Before you got into competitive martial arts, what was it like growing up in Manila?”
Robin replies, as he reminisces, while stretching his fingers. “I grew up in a rough neighbourhood where it was easy to be caught in vices, there were plenty of smoking, drugs, and alcohol around. When you’re submerged in that environment, it’s normal to accept those things as normal in your life, and then, when I went to high school, I hung out with a group that went to gigs and I got even more rebellious. ”
“Are you still part of that scene?” I ask.
“No, not anymore. I got invited to church by a friend, and that was where I understood that I could change the direction of my life knowing that Jesus loved me, and he wants me to pursue a life knowing him.”
“But you didn’t grow up in church?”
“No, not at all.
“So, how did you then get involved in martial arts from there?” I ask.
“Eventually, I went to a church camp, and that’s where I met a martial arts teacher. I asked if I could check out their gym, they said yes, and that was where I met my sensei, James De La Cruz. He taught me the Kyokushin Kenbukai fighting style. And to this day, we are very close, and he is my mentor.” The admiration and respect is clear from his eyes.
“What was it like during your first few trainings?”
“At the start, I wasn’t very good. Everyone was better, and younger, and they would hit hard.” His eyebrows shrug at the thought. “Actually, James hit me so hard in the stomach once, during a spar, it knocked me out.” He laughs. “But I kept coming back, determined to know more. I kept learning by watching others, and watching moves on YouTube. Then, I remember one training session where I did a spin kick and it hit James in the head. He was so proud of that move, he told me that I was learning the right things; our teacher and student bond grew as we continued to train together.”
“Now, as a teacher, how do you approach teaching your students?” I ask, connecting to his now vocation.
Robin replies, “James taught me that when it comes to teaching martial arts, you should teach everything you know, and that in turn that will help you get better. At the right pace of course. Because there is no point in keeping things to yourself…you won’t grow as a martial artist. Think about it, if you’re teaching your best techniques to someone else, it forces you to think…now, how am I supposed to defend this move if they use it against me,” He smiles. “At the end of the day I get a bigger satisfaction when I can offer others everything I can teach, rather than just a bland version.”
The transmission of knowledge requires an active participation between learner and teacher, as D.A. Walters write in his book: Existential Being as Transformative Learning. In that book, he consolidates some of Soren Kierkegaard’s idea that learning must be a dynamic process, so those who participate collaboratively gain a deeper understanding of not just facts, but more of themselves. This transformative type of teaching and learning, should allow us not to simply accumulate knowledge, but be responsible in how we practise, and pass them on. [1]
“How did you end up in boxing?” I ask.
“After I participated in a few martial arts competitions, I met Joan Tipon at church and I asked if I could train with him. He took me on, and I trained with him and Charly Suarez.”
“Was the transition smooth between each fighting style?”
“It was easy to adapt all my movement to boxing, coming from a martial arts background. But eventually, when I got into MMA under Coach Basas, it was more difficult. Striking is about exerting force, while wrestling is about grasping and holding.”
“Are you involved with anything at your church as well?”
“Next summer, I’m going to teach kids and adults self-defense classes. It may seem that I’m only teaching them just a sequence of moves, but really, I believe, I’m teaching them confidence and self-control. Because self-defense is supposed to be one hit to make sure you’re safe, and not striking with the intention to hurt.”
Robin glances at the time; his phone has been buzzing continuously for the last hour. Time truly was a precious commodity for him right now.
“After you finish with martial arts and boxing, what do you want to do?” I ask, closing my notepad.
“Eventually, I want to open my own gym, and start a business, so I can have more time with my family. I understand, we all grow old, and we won’t be able to do the same things we can when we were young. But all the principles I’m learning now will still apply to my life later on. For me, martial arts isn’t just a hobby, but a lifestyle.”
Robin keeps his focus on me, and is disciplined on not opening his messages, instead he shows me more videos of his fights, and photos of his family.
When I eventually say goodbye, we hug and I thank him, but before I exit the cafe, I look back and see him sitting there alone for a moment. Silent. Satisfied.
[1] Walters, D.A. Existential being as transformative learning. Pastoral Care in Education, 26(2), June 2008. p.113
To get in contact with Robin, find him at: @robin.bustamante
Written by: S.I. Finlayson
Editor: Michelle Bearzot
With Special thanks to: Robin Bustamante