at shaolin temple, in misty songshan mountains, we monks trained in iron palm until our hands bled.
tiger grasps his tail, not hamburger! he moves on, studying the room with his eyes, often glancing toward the door, and then toward the small clock on a table near the door. it is late, and kwan is obviously waiting for someone to arrive. as he is waiting, a young student comes up to kwan.
bruce lee actor, we fighters, warriors. a sparrow in flight is beautiful, but a side kick to the ribs is effective. show me.
never in my days at the shaolin temple have i seen uniform as beautiful as this. thank you, mrs. rodriguez. i wish drew were here to thank you himself. ta ma de! this last he says looking at the empty door.
luck is no concern, mrs. rodriguez. shaolin warriors depend on heart and soul  that's how they saved the t'ang emporer. he looks again at the door, then claps his hands together, gathering his students around him.
xie xie, mrs. rodriguez. during my time training at the shaolin temple, the birthplace of the martial arts, i was lucky .  er.  fortunate to have the best instructors in the world train me. but, there was also time for individual training  where skills were honed like the blade of a sword. now, it is that time for you.
when the blind follow the blind, they both fall over the cliff. understand?
no matter. he exits, leaving his students staring vacantly after him.
why didn't you come to class? why waste time with this.  should study tapes of opponent.
not quite  our drills at the temple had meaning. if we had tapes, we would have watched them. drew starts to protest, but kwan doesn't even let him start.
"the warrior who knows himself and his opponent will win 100 times in 100 battles." study the tapes i gave you. all these years of one on one training  you're the best i've ever taught.
best white boy, maybe. just fight like a shaolin warrior  the rest will take care of itself.
pressure. big tournament this weekend.
i wish i had the chance.
you only lose if you give up.
next time we get that guy.
don't talk like that. at shaolin.  he pauses, and decides not to tell another shaolin temple story. drew looks at him funny  this is very against his character.
i saw a shaolin monk once. i was only 5 years old at the time, but i remember it like it was yesterday. i was coming back from the market with my father. soldiers stopped us and were taking the food we had just bought. it was all we had left to eat  no more money. these were hard times in china, people were selling their children for food, and the soldiers had no right. who can stop soldiers with guns, though? yes?
just as the soldiers were leaving, a monk stepped out of the crowd and told them very calmly to put the food back. well, naturally, they didn't. they pushed the monk, and the next thing i knew the soldiers were in the street, and the food was back in my father's arms. 5 soldiers, and they were in a heap on the ground, their blood mixing with the dust of the street.
the crowd whispered "shaolin", and he bowed to us, touched my cheek and smiled, then just walked on. i watched him until he disappeared in the distance. he was larger than life, a hero to a little boy of 5. i vowed then and there to become like him, fight for right like the shaolin. he pauses again, looking at drew. drew meets his gaze, wondering why he is telling him this story.
i never did, though. my family left china and ended up here in new york, a young boy's dream left behind in
made up. i never trained at the shaolin temple. when i realized my dream couldn't come true, i convinced myself that it had anyway. it was a small step to convince other people.
i've given you all i can, and it's not enough. it was never enough. you're like a son to me, drew, and you have all the potential in the world, but i can't take you where you want to go.
there, that should control the swelling.
no.
no. drew nods, an idea forming in his head. a slight smile forms on his face. kwan was expecting him to be angry, he never expected this.
what?
what are you talking about?
he hit you so hard, you're delirious. i'll get a cold cloth. he starts to get up, but drew grabs his arm and forces him back down.
i must pay for your ticket.
i grew up on the stories of the shaolin, and you can be those stories. you can live my dream for me  at least let me help you. let an old man make up for the trouble he's caused. kwan touches drew's bruised cheek, fatherly love in his eyes. drew nods his head, then bows in the traditional chinese manner.