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Peter Barnett 5thDan
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They never trained under Peter Barnett!
If they did, they would have written about blood, sweat and tears - tears of joy that is.
Friday night is `Judo-night' and that means `close encounters' and hard training alongside lots of `sweaty' friends once a week in an atmosphere of serious fun.
I love Judo and there are many reasons for this. It has its ups and downs - pardon the pun - seeing the look on Roy Muller's face, for instance, when you catch him for a full ippon - albeit only once a year - that's an `up'. Then, being dumped yourself by a beginner and having to smile and be encouraging and not even think about getting your own back - a `down'!
And then there is Peter Barnett. My best friend in Judo. He is like the Rock of Gibraltar, always there. It never mattered when I missed a session or two, I didn't have to ask, would Peter be there, he was. He was always there and his welcome to me no different to that of anybody else, "Roy!" he would roar down the corridor, "Come on, we'll be starting in a minute!"
His profound concern for the basic principles of Judo training remained steadfastly the same, with countless successes to support his wisdom.
One moment in time for instance was recorded by the Coventry Evening Telegraph in March 1977. A photograph shows Peter celebrating along with Keith Cannaby and Les Hudspith a `Golden Century for Solihull Judo Club' (100 gold medals).
Judo under Peter was never dull. Not once did he repeat the formula of our training schedule. The warm up and cool down periods, the varied randori sessions, the fun contests, the games he made us play (and joined in himself) his sense of humour, "the dinner-dance is next week - tonight, we're here to get some work done", were all part of the Friday night `package'.
A `package' I enjoyed for thirty years.
And continue to do so. He caught me and my opponent talking again in the middle of randori (Friday 10th July 1998 to be precise): "Tea or coffee chaps?" And later: "Sugar - one lump or two?" There is no escaping his attention. And you don't want to.
Peter has a competitive spirit second to none. He could play any game you mention and be a winner. Be it football, golf or table tennis, his best shots were always better than yours. He frustrated the hell out of his table tennis opponents!
In the seventy's, after Judo, we used to finish up with a game of volley ball - `the old ones versus the young ones' - us old ones never lost!
In the eighty's, we played hockey. You always knew where to pass the ball. Peter was up front screaming for it and when he shot, he always scored. Claiming a score was just as effective as actually scoring. We used to look forward to these post Judo games just as much as the Judo sessions with the arguments over goals scored or not, being carried into the dressing room.
I felt I had a privileged position on the mat. Peter used to warn my opponents to treat the `old man' with respect. I felt like an old oak tree at the end of somebody's garden protected by a Council Preservation Order. A special status I used to my advantage on the unsuspecting.
The first time I noticed Peter wasn't well was in Abbey Fields, Kenilworth, 10 o'clock on Sunday 10th May 1998. He came for a breath of fresh air and to process a few thoughts for the A.G.M. that afternoon. It was on my suggestion because the Kenilworth Running Club were staging their annual 10K `Hilly Challenge' and Joyce Malley and Clive Biggs were taking part.
I wanted Peter to be there knowing that if Joyce and Clive saw him they would put that extra effort into their running.
Peter spoke openly about his health problems. He knew his determination to always be a winner was being put to its toughest test and you could feel his frustration as he spoke of what might lie ahead. The same old Peter determinedly putting on a brave face - thinking positively, "you've got to think positively, Roy, you've got to." Heavens above, he was trying to cheer me up!
What do you say to a friend like that?
I shall miss him calling my name down the corridor, telling me off on the mat. We will all miss his countless anecdotes in the dressing room about his experiences in the Judo world.
The Judo world will miss him. It will carry on, but it will never be the same again. Pete is one of its most colourful characters, an irreplaceable colour.
If Judo was a rainbow - one of its stripes is about to go into early retirement.
Thanks Pete