The Late Master Coach Milan Prosenica

March 2008 saw the passing of our beloved friend Milan Prosenica, co-principal of our training team from Slovenia. He left behind 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.

Milan's approach to coaching was to learn by doing first, discuss why second. He was a man of action. He believed Autodefence was like any other sport - to describe it otherwise was pretentious. He expressed things plainly - making him a great teacher. He had little time for academic discussion, politics or philosophical debate. He was extremely competent - arguably the best in this discipline. His students are a testament to how well he could get them skilled as well. He qualified as a professor of sports science in the 70's. His experience led him to know many ‘ring smarts’ and wise tricks, all of which he passed on to us with great generosity.

In the ring he was a formidable adversary. The combination of skill and steel-like body created knock-out abilities. In training you could feel the wind from his punches. His style was graceful, effective and beautiful for effect, not look. See for yourself.

Milan's most striking qualities were his humility and quiet confidence. 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. As one of the few wing chun practitioners to put their skills to the test in the ring, his competitive record was remarkable, but you always had to hear it from others. In the gym, he would simply get on with the business of teaching and training.

Milan cared about all his trainees. If he saw you were uneasy he would reassure you. He would encourage you to take 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. He loved his ‘fish and chips’ when he came to visit. 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, is to celebrate Milan's 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 (and expect bull**** - it's always waiting, he often commented). Now, when we train and we catch our reflection in the mirror, we should see hints of Milan's style in us: the athletic stance, the snapping rotation, the brisk footwork, the impossible moves. 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, and stands apart from the rest in so many ways. We loved him very much and will miss him terribly.

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