Somai watched him walk away, then turned to his friends. He said something in Thai. His voice was calm, devoid of the arrogance it had displayed 15 minutes earlier. One of his friends placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of support. They began walking in the opposite direction toward their own doors.
But after 10 steps, Somai stopped. He turned around. Bruce was still visible in the distance, almost reaching the terminal entrance. Bruce Lee, Somai shouted. Bruce stopped, turned around, waited. Somai walked quickly back, closing the distance between them. When he was in front of Bruce again, he did something that shocked everyone present.
He performed the traditional Thai bow, hands clasped in front of his chest, head bowed, a gesture of profound respect. “Thank you for the lesson,” he said simply. Bruce returned the favor. Train hard. You have real talent. Just remember, strength without adaptation is rigidity, and rigidity eventually breaks.
Somai nodded, absorbing the words. “Can I ask something?” Bruce gestured for him to continue. “When you caught my leg in mid-air, at the four-second mark, you could have broken my kneecap. I saw the opening. It’s anatomical. Why didn’t you?” The question was genuine, without accusation. Bruce considered how to answer honestly, “Because you came with ego, but not with a true intention to harm.”
“You came here to prove a point, not to destroy a man.” I replied with the same intention. I showed you I could finish this without showing you what it would really feel like. Besides,” Bruce continued, “destroying your knee would have proven my technique, but it would have ruined your career. You’re 28 years old, probably have another 5 years of fighting left in you if you take care of your body.”
