Chapter 500: Judo Grandmaster

Chapter 500: The Judo Grandmaster

Yes, and no.

The first four European countries had indeed arranged their visit together, and the seven that followed were also coordinated among themselves, but these two groups had not planned with each other.

That said, it wasn’t as if the two waves had never discussed it.

This year was an Olympic year, and aside from the Olympics, major competitions were scarce. For the International Judo Federation, the period from after the Olympics to the end of the year featured only one invitational, one Grand Prix, and one World Judo Masters. The highest level among these was the World Judo Masters, which was the Busan event—and as it turned out, everyone withdrew.

After that, the next major competition wouldn’t come until April of the following year, meaning there would be roughly half a year without large-scale tournaments. During this gap, aside from training, the national judo teams and the IJF spent most of their time on exchanges—either initiated spontaneously between national teams or facilitated by the IJF.

No matter how you looked at it, the focus inevitably circled back to the Chinese judo team, which had shone brightest in this Olympics. Add to that the reportedly highly successful visit of the Japanese team to China for exchanges, and other countries had been itching to follow suit. At a recent Grand Prix, they had already begun discussing a trip to China, though the timing hadn’t been finalized.

Another personal but quite significant reason was that Teddy Riner of the French team—the face of European judo—personally wanted to exchange with Meng Fan. This prompted the entire French judo team to put the matter on the agenda.

Teddy was in a hurry. After returning from Busan, he took a long vacation, rejoined the team, trained for a while, and then couldn’t hold back any longer. His mind was full of Meng Fan’s words in Busan: “We can also exchange privately.” So he urged the team to set off for China as soon as possible. His attitude was simple: if you won’t go early, I’ll go alone. And so, the entire French judo team mobilized, along with three other European countries.

As for the earlier agreement with other judo powerhouses to go together—well, they just stood them up. It’s a basic human instinct.

Who would have thought? The four European countries had barely arrived when the other seven nations showed up together. At least the European four had informed the Chinese judo team before departing; the others only notified them after setting off. Japan was among them—so what if I’ve already been once? I’m close anyway.

Was Chinese judo’s technique and tactics really that appealing?

Yes, indeed!

Besides, there were no major competitions to prepare for. The earliest one was still four months away, so they might as well not stay idle.

Moreover, in Busan, these countries had been the first to withdraw in support of Meng Fan and the Chinese team. Setting aside any talk of favors, at the very least, even a hastily arranged visit like this could still facilitate normal exchanges. The key was that Meng Fan had to show up. If he didn’t appear for other matters, that might be excusable, but not showing up this time would be rather ungracious.

If Meng Fan’s overwhelming dominance in winning both the individual and team judo golds at the Olympics had elevated him to a position of absolute authority in the sport, then the news of him concurrently serving as the tactical advisor for Chinese judo, creating a complete system of “Meng’s Combat Method,” and the confirmation of this through Japan’s exchange visit to China, had all pushed him into the role of a “Judo Grandmaster.”

Even though the core of “Meng’s Combat Method” lay with Meng Fan himself, and without his personal guidance, the method could only unleash a tenth of its potential, the Japanese judo team that had visited China still praised it to an extraordinary degree, calling it a technique capable of revolutionizing modern judo!

This claim wasn’t just circulated within Japan; the Japanese judo team said it everywhere.

Would other national teams believe it?

At least half-believed.

Everyone knew Meng Fan had dominant strength and that the rapid progress of the Chinese judo team was inseparable from him. But as for the exaggerated claim that “Meng’s Combat Method” could revolutionize modern judo—of course, they couldn’t fully accept it.

However, after this exchange in the capital, they believed.

As the main figure of this exchange—even if he didn’t want to be the center—Meng Fan didn’t hold back much. He essentially shared the technical and tactical features of “Meng’s Combat Method” in full, since he had already done so with the Japanese judo team. There was no point in hiding it.

Moreover, if this “Meng’s Combat Method” could truly be promoted worldwide, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. It could drive the prosperity of the entire judo discipline and simultaneously help the Chinese judo team gain greater influence within the IJF.

As for whether other national judo teams learning it would pose a threat to the Chinese team—it couldn’t be said with absolute certainty that it wouldn’t, but it would be very difficult. Because the core of this method was Meng Fan’s guidance. If Chinese judo athletes, with Meng Fan’s coaching, couldn’t outperform athletes from other countries who could only unleash a tenth of the method’s potential, then there was no point in saying anything else.

“A match?”

Teddy was still eager to fight Meng Fan. This eagerness was the key factor sustaining his judo career; otherwise, he would have retired after the Olympics.

He had come this time to fight Meng Fan, not necessarily to win, but mainly because he hadn’t had his fill during the Olympics. Throughout his career, he was used to winning. Before Meng Fan emerged, he had only lost a few matches early on; after that, he was invincible. In the Olympics, he fought Meng Fan twice and lost twice. To be honest, he had become somewhat addicted to losing.

Was it self-torture?

Not really—it was just for the thrill.

“No problem,” Meng Fan agreed.

The result? Teddy still couldn’t get his fill, because the fight ended too quickly.

It was exhilarating, yet agonizing!

While the athletes were exchanging, the team leaders and officials were also in discussions. Their ultimate goal was the allocation of management positions after the IJF’s upcoming election next year.

Before this Olympics, China was not a judo powerhouse and had no precedent of holding important positions in the management body. In fact, only one person had ever been inducted into the IJF Hall of Fame—the current chairwoman of the Chinese Judo Association, Ms. Xian.

With the sudden rise of the Chinese judo team in this Olympics, coupled with the “exchanges” during the earlier visit with Japan and this unexpected “exchange,” it was almost a foregone conclusion that China would secure key roles in the IJF management body in the coming election.

Entering the management body and holding key positions meant having greater say in rule changes and formulation, which was of great significance for the development of Chinese judo.

The exchange event lasted a total of three days. In terms of time, it wasn’t long—even brief—but for the participating national judo teams, it was highly rewarding. The Chinese team was no exception.

In the blink of an eye, it was December 24. That evening, the China Top Ten Laureus Champions Awards ceremony would be held.

(This chapter ends.)