Karate Kid — the Moment I Found My Hero
We were all rooting for Daniel. Squaring up to Johnny in the final scene of Karate Kid, you could hear a collective gasp as Daniel pulled off his spell-binding Crane Kick.
Smack! Johnny was down. The cinema erupted!
All around me, people had leaped out of their seats and were cheering. Grown men were visibly in tears as they hugged each other. Women actually swooned. The standing ovation swept through aisles. Wave after wave cheers, whooping, and clapping. It felt like this moment of climax would last forever.
I have never seen or heard anything like it since.
1984, as sung by Bananarama, was a cruel, cruel summer. I had turned eleven and was beginning to discover my freedom. I could stay out late with the kids in the neighborhood. I could watch PG movies unsupervised. I could ride my canary yellow BMX as far as I could. Everything was CHOICE in 1984 and no stinky girls to spoil the party.
Good parenting in the 80s required the grown-ups to ignore their kids as best they could. This taught a whole generation how to be self-reliant and emotionally distant. Adults were too busy making money and learning how to peacock while flashing wads of cash.
That Summer, a national newspaper (The Sun) was giving away free tickets to various films. All you had to do was show the coupon at your cinema of choice and collect your freebies.
It was a dangerous quest for an eleven-year-old on a bike.
My hometown of Gants Hill had one cinema. It was called The Odeon.
The Odeon stood majestically to one side of the world’s busiest roundabout. Below the raucous streets, a catacomb of tunnels led to the underground railway station. It had multiple exits and harsh lighting that frequently failed whenever a train rumbled through. The whole tomb shook with the morning rush hour.
I was never sure of what exit to take to reach the cinema. I had heard tales of children never returning from the depths of that underground. Posters of missing children lined the damp walls. I assumed many had fallen down the treacherous wooden escalator that swan dived a mile before spitting you out onto the platform.
This station terrified me.
Once you navigated the tunnels of doom, a hideous ogre would be lying in wait at the Odeon. This man loved nothing more than to intimidate children. An individual of loathsome qualities who resembled Andre the Giant. His mom ran the box office while he ushered in the customers. He was the gatekeeper. The beast who would refuse entry to any kid who looked underage. There was no sneaking past this miscreant.
A week later, my aunt was kind enough to hand over a pair of free tickets. She also agreed to stand in line to ensure we were allowed in to watch the film.
When I eventually turned 15, I was overjoyed. No longer could I be refused entry and sent scampering from the line in shame. His tut would echo loudly in your ear as you shamefully readdressed your life choices and joined the ‘G’ rated crowd of toddlers and harassed moms. He made sure everybody knew you were a child in the eyes of the law and not man enough to watch a film with nudity or swearing.
Word of the free tickets had blazed through the community.
The Odeon was packed. We sat somewhere near the back overlooking the terraced seating. When the lights went down and the voluminous red curtain swayed to one side, we knew we were in for an epic performance.
The next couple of hours were a rollercoaster.
The Karate Kid synopsis has Daniel moving to a new city. Falling for the wrong girl. Getting beat up. Learning karate. Entering a tournament. Winning the girl. Winning the tournament. It was the classic hero’s journey complete with a mentor and obstacles along the way.
Instantly, Daniel was my hero. I had never felt that way about anyone before. I wanted to be Daniel. I wanted to be the Karate Kid. I wanted to smash bullies in the mouth and frolic with girls on a beach kicking a football. I wanted to be triumphant in the face of adversity. I wanted the soundtrack of my life to feature a hit song titled ‘You’re The Best’. Nothing was ever gonna keep me down.
The eleven-year-old me was very impressed. Sitting next to my mate Paul, we giggled like schoolgirls as we were swept away by the moment. We whooped and cheered and hollered loudly. We clapped until our hands were raw.
Outside the Odeon, we practiced our newly acquired karate skills. With every deft flick of the hand, every blistering power punch and every scintillating leg sweep, our karate moves had grown to Black Belt level.
Paul’s throat punch nearly killed me but it was my roundhouse kick that put him into the hospital.
A week later my little sister broke a finger in a recreation of the Karate Kid final scene. She wasn’t expecting the Crane Kick either.
Karate was banned.
Daniel was torn down from my bedroom wall. Fighting became illegal in our household and The Karate Kid rebranded a pest.
But Daniel-san, for one cruel, cruel summer, you were my everything, my one and only hero.
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