Strategy Over Force: Lessons from the Masters

I've been thinking lately about what separates real martial artists from people who just know how to hit hard. Over forty-four years of hosting The Gathering, I've had the privilege of training with masters who understood something most never learn: strategy always beats force.

Let me share some stories about three men who taught me this lesson in very different ways. Each one showed me that the strongest technique means nothing without the right timing, positioning, and mindset. These weren't just fighters. They were strategists who happened to use martial arts.

The Sergeant Who Never Needed to Prove Anything

First was Sergeant Henry Slomanski. Dan Inosanto told me about him years ago, and the more I learned, the more I understood what real warrior mentality looks like.

Slomanski wasn't just tough. He was Special Forces, an Army Ranger, the first man to train Navy SEALs in hand-to-hand combat. Three Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star, and a Silver Star. In Japan, he fought 119 opponents over two days. That wasn't legend. That was documented reality.

But here's what made Slomanski special: he never needed to prove anything because his record spoke for itself. He didn't train to perform. He trained to survive. And there's a huge difference between those two mindsets.

From what Dan shared with me about Slomanski, I learned that this man's approach was completely different from what you see today. When you trained with Slomanski, you didn't spar a few guys and call it good. You sparred until you dropped. That was his test. Not how flashy your techniques looked, but whether you could keep going when everything hurt and you wanted to quit.

What struck me most about what Dan told me was Slomanski's attitude toward different styles. He said, "We're Americans. Let's train." That mindset brought Korean, Okinawan, and Japanese stylists together under one roof, years before cross-training was accepted. He built bridges through grit and clarity, not politics or ego.

The strategic lesson? Real strength doesn't need to advertise itself. When you know what you're capable of, you don't waste energy trying to convince others. You save that energy for when it actually matters.

The Pirate Who Read You Before You Moved

Then there was Rick Alemany. I used to call him "the pirate." He had the look: the long ponytail, the goatee, that grin that told you he was about to enjoy the fight. But it wasn't just a look. Rick was a fighter. A real one.

I met Rick during the early days of the team fighting scene. Chuck Norris had the L.A. Stars, I ran the Sacramento Gladiators, and Rick led the San Francisco crew. We clashed often, fighting on teams against legends like Joe Lewis, Jim Harrison, and Dimitrius Havanas. But outside the ring, Rick became family.

Rick trained with everyone: Ralph Castro, Ed Parker, Mitose, Chow, Remy and Ernesto Presas. He studied Wing Chun, Arnis, Jujitsu, Tai Chi, Kajukenbo. But what made Rick stand out wasn't his resume. It was how he carried himself. Those weren't hands. They were weapons. You could see it before he moved.

But here's the strategic part: Rick didn't see people for what they were. He saw them for who they could become. He introduced me to Professor Remy Presas. He showed me how to smile when it hurts. He taught me what it means to train with honor, and what it means to have hands that feel like tanned leather wrapped around concrete.

You don't hit Rick Alemany without paying for it. But the payment wasn't just physical. It was educational. He taught me that being dangerous and being kind aren't opposites. They're two sides of the same strategy: you protect what matters by being ready for what doesn't.

The Spider Who Dismantled Egos

The third was Remy Presas himself, founder of Modern Arnis. I first met him in 1976. I didn't go looking for wisdom. I went to challenge him. And he taught me the hard way.

Remy didn't just beat me. He read me. Every move I made, he already knew the ending. That was the day I stopped performing and started studying.

We became close after that. I traveled with him across the country, watching him teach, fight, and more importantly, watching how he thought. Remy didn't just know technique. He knew people. He could read you before you moved. He was a strategist, a trickster, and a warrior all in one.

He taught me to observe before I act. To position before I strike. To know who you're dealing with, whether it's a combat scenario or a conversation. He used to say, "It's better to be number two. Number one always gets shot first." That was his mindset. Be ready. Stay sharp. But don't show your hand too soon.

Remy wasn't flashy. He was surgical. He could size up a room or a blade fight with the same clarity. When we sparred, you never knew where the real weapon was until it touched you. He gave you just enough rope to hang yourself, then pulled it tight.

The strategic lesson? Don't study Remy to learn Arnis. Study Remy to learn strategy. He defeated technique by defeating timing. He won before the fight started because he understood the person across from him better than they understood themselves.

The Power Behind Leadership

I learned about strategic thinking from another angle through Robert Trias. When I first met him in 1981, I thought he might be pompous. He told me, "When I walk into a room, people jump. If I tell someone to jump, they ask how high." I was looking for the door.

But then he explained: "My students know I love them, so they'll do what I ask. If you lead people, never betray the trust they give you. The only way you can do that is by loving them more than they could ever love you."

That changed everything. I watched how he carried himself the rest of that day. Trias was indeed a leader, probably the main reason his organization held together as tightly as it did. But there was a side to him many didn't see. He was a ball of mush when it came to the martial arts because he loved them more than anything.

Trias spoke many languages and could see through to the heart of things. He understood Kempo, Kajukenbo, Shorin Ryu, Hsing-Yi, Ba Gua, and Tai Chi. He was a walking library who took the time to collect information from everywhere.

The strategic lesson? Real leadership isn't about power over people. It's about power with people. When people trust you because they know you care about them more than yourself, they'll follow you anywhere. That's not force. That's strategy.

What Strategy Really Means

Here's what these masters taught me: strategy isn't about being sneaky or manipulative. It's about understanding the whole picture before you act. It's about reading people, situations, and timing so clearly that you rarely need to use force at all.

Slomanski understood that real strength doesn't need to prove itself. Rick understood that being dangerous and being kind can work together. Remy understood that timing beats technique every time. Trias understood that love is more powerful than fear for building anything that lasts.

These lessons apply whether you're in a fight, teaching a class, or leading an organization. Force might win the moment, but strategy wins the long game.

The Gathering Philosophy

This is exactly what we've tried to cultivate at The Gathering for all these years. When we started in 1981 at The Grange Hall in Orangevale, the martial arts world was much more divided. People were suspicious of other styles, protective of their secrets, quick to argue about who had the "real" techniques.

But Mitose's vision was unity. He wanted us to see the similarities, not the differences. He wanted us to learn from everyone, not just our own lineage. The masters I've told you about embodied that vision. They weren't trying to prove their style was best. They were trying to understand what made all styles work.

That's strategic thinking. Instead of limiting yourself to one approach, you study all approaches and extract the principles that make them effective. Instead of building walls around your knowledge, you share it freely because you understand that knowledge grows when it's shared.

This year's Gathering in Folsom, California, October 4-5, continues that tradition. You'll meet masters who understand that strategy beats force, that timing beats strength, that understanding beats memorization. You'll train with people who've learned these lessons the hard way and are willing to share them.

Strategy in Daily Training

How do you develop strategic thinking in your own practice? Start by changing how you approach training itself.

Instead of trying to hit harder, work on hitting smarter. Study your opponent's patterns before you respond. Learn to read their breathing, their weight shifts, their tells. Most people telegraph their intentions if you know how to look.

Instead of forcing techniques to work, learn to position yourself so techniques become unnecessary. Create situations where your opponent defeats themselves. Use their aggression against them. Let their impatience become your advantage.

Instead of trying to learn more techniques, focus on understanding the principles that make techniques work. When you understand structure, timing, and distance, you can make any technique work. When you only know the technique, you're limited to that one response.

Practice what Remy taught me: observe before you act. Position before you strike. Read the person, not just their movement. Understand that the real fight often happens in the mind before it happens in the body.

The Long View

These masters understood something most martial artists miss: the goal isn't to become unbeatable in a fight. The goal is to become someone who rarely needs to fight because they've learned to navigate conflict more skillfully.

Slomanski was so clearly dangerous that most people never thought to test him. Rick was so obviously skilled that sparring with him was education, not combat. Remy was so strategic that he could end things before they started. Trias was so genuinely caring that people wanted to follow his lead.

That's what strategy over force really means. It's not about avoiding confrontation. It's about understanding conflict so deeply that you can resolve it at the level of minds and hearts, not just hands and feet.

When you understand this, your entire approach to martial arts changes. You stop trying to prove how tough you are and start learning how to be truly effective. You stop collecting techniques and start developing wisdom. You stop fighting other people's fights and start creating your own path.

Where This Leads

The masters I've shared with you today all had something in common: they understood that martial arts is ultimately about becoming a better human being. The fighting skills are just the vehicle. The real destination is wisdom, compassion, and the ability to protect what matters without destroying what doesn't.

That's the kind of training we do at The Gathering. That's the kind of understanding we try to develop in all our courses. It's not about making you tougher. It's about making you smarter, more aware, more strategic in how you approach every challenge.

If these stories resonate with you, if you want to train with people who understand that strategy beats force, I'd love to see you in Folsom this October. Come learn from masters who've walked this path ahead of you. Come be part of a community that values wisdom over ego, understanding over opinion.

But whether you join us or not, remember this: the strongest person in the room is rarely the one who can hit the hardest. It's the one who understands when not to hit at all.