Continue to www.autodefence.com.
MILAN PROSENICA, R.I.P.
1953–2008
It is with great sadness we report the passing of our beloved friend Milan Prosenica, co-principal of our training team. Our deepest sympathies are extended to his wife Sonja, children Mia and Rok, mother Majda and sister Branka.
To us, Milan wasn’t just a teacher and a role model. He was more than our friend, too. He was our family member. To some of us, he was like a brother. To others, an uncle. To others still, a father.
It was from Milan we learned one of our favourite lessons: learning is doing, not talking about doing. He once said learning to fight is like learning to play football — you put your kit on and you practice. He had a unique ability to express things that plainly. That's what made him a great teacher. He had little time for academic discussion, politics or philosophical debate. He was a man of action. Some people could talk about fighting. He could do. And by his down-to-earth, practical instruction, he made his trainees into people who could do too. His understanding was deep and genuine as he was very smart, a professor of sports science. His experience led him to know many ‘ring smarts’ and wise tricks, all of which he taught with great generosity.
Milan is, of course, most famous for testing his skills in the theatre of sport. In this, his achievements are remarkable. On stage, he was a formidable man of great physical prowess. His technical skill and steel-like body created punches that could start a tornado. His style was distinctly his own. Graceful, effective and beautiful to watch, it was a style learned from necessity. Not aesthetics or opinion.
Perhaps the most impressive thing about Milan is that, despite having so much worth boasting about, he never boasted. It takes a special sense of self assuredness to be so comfortable with oneself as Milan was. He didn’t crave publicity. He didn’t seek interviews. Off stage, Milan was the most friendly and personable man. A real person, not a celebrity. There are some truly remarkable stories about Milan, but he would brush them off. As one of the few who put his skills to the test in the ring, his competitive record was remarkable, yet he never felt the need to tell people about it. In the gym, he would simply get on with the business of teaching and training.
Milan cared about his trainees. If he saw you were uneasy he would take care of you. He would take you for time out, with a coffee and some food to chat about life. If he thought you were underestimating yourself or what you were doing he would straighten you out. He’d talk about his family and yours. Between coaching sessions you could see him thinking things through as he’d explore ways to explain better the point he was trying to get across. He didn’t let it go until you had proven to him that you had understood. That was very important to him. Your training was very important to him. He didn’t believe in mysticism or sacred cows. His philosophy is that if you can't teach it plainly, you can't teach it period. He read between the lines. He dared to take a look behind the wizard’s curtain. This was a reflection of his academic and scientific background and his abhorrence of nonsense and game playing. As his tips would dawn on you months or even years later you began to realise that the quality time together was precious and absorption then and there was crucial. We were very fortunate to have had the opportunity to converse with him at that level.
Of course, there are the special little memories too, like the times he’d have you in stitches with a humour that transcended language or culture. After the biannual training events he'd even insist on carrying your kit bag home. It's easy to fall into the trap of believing Milan was ours. He wasn’t. He just gave that impression, which was wonderful. He, of course, had colleagues and devoted trainees all over the world but more importantly his lovely family. We must not be selfish and neglect their loss which must be overwhelming and impossible to understand and accept. Nick Smart, Milan’s co-principal and long time friend will of course have his own personal memories which he will savour but no doubt they will never completely fill the loss inside. We believe the best way for us, their devoted training team, to celebrate Milan’s life is for us all to remember and value what he shared with us about life and technique. In life we will apply his wisdom and follow his example: remember our manners, be humble, be ourselves, commit to achievement, remember what's important to us and to others, enjoy life, expect bull**** (it's always waiting). Now, when we train and we catch our reflection in the gym mirror at home or at head quarters, we should see hints of Milan’s style in us: the athletic stance, the snapping rotation, the brisk footwork. For us to see this though we must fight back the tears. That's how in he will live on in us.
Milan is truly one of the unsung special people of fighting arts. We loved him very much and will miss him terribly.
We will of course soon be updating these pages to reflect the sad news.