Three men circle the woman standing in the lobby of the Denny’s restaurant.

One of the men starts arguing with her loud enough that everyone eating starts paying attention.

Undeterred by those watching, the man starts pushing her around near the cashier’s desk.

There’s a uniformed security guard passively watching the scene unfold.

“You’re a whore,” the man says just before he starts laying into her with his fist.

Dan Camarillo glances around the crowded restaurant and not a sole stands up to help the woman.

Dan sizes up the three larger men. “You’ve got to back me up on this,” he says as he looks towards his younger brother Dave Camarillo.

Before Dave answers, Dan confronts the man who is completely engrossed in assaulting the woman.

The man pulls his arm back to punch the woman again, but Dan deflects his swing.

For the first time, the angry man notices Dan, turns and pushes him backward.

Dan’s martial arts career began when he was five years old when he tried Judo with his father. From that day forward, his father would not allow him to quit.

Dan’s childhood was consumed by Judo and he missed many of the things his friends invited him to. Dan occasionally resisted Judo classes, but he always conceded to his intimidating father – a stern disciplinarian who yelled a lot and stood 6’4” and 260 pounds.

Like most children, Dan did not understand his father’s pressure, but now he believes his father was right all those years.

Kids don’t understand when parents push them to work hard, but “If you’re good at something, you should probably stick with it. When you’re older you won’t be able to.”

His father’s discipline did come at a price. When he was twenty-one he competed at the Judo Senior National Championships as a black belt, but he lost to a brown belt.

After the tournament, his dad was upset because Dan should have won. Dan was confident, but once the match started he could not make anything happen. 

Dan was so sick that day that he weighed 146 pounds in a division where people were cutting weight to make 160-pounds. His father took him to UCLA Medical Center where they ran all sorts of tests, but could not figure out why he was losing weight. 

Dan later figured out that it was stress. Dan and his father had been clashing about his training. On the weekends, Dan was driving two hours to the Bay Area to learn Jiu-Jitsu under Ralph Gracie.

“I was constantly being yelled at. ,” Daniel said. “When my father and I argued I felt like I was doing Judo for him. I wasn’t doing it for me.”

It was not easy, but Dan decided to give up Judo and move to Mountain View, California to focus on Jiu-Jitsu. Within two weeks of moving, Dan’s health began restoring.

Dan’s father was grooming him for the Olympics and was immersed in the Judo community. He was on the board of the U. S. Judo Federation and often flew in top Judo trainers to live at their house. He even coached the high school team that traveled to Kashima, Japan and won the fifty team tournament.

This rite of passage of sorts was what Dan needed at the time, but it did come with some regrets.

“I had a really good chance at the Olympics if I didn’t quit Judo. I’m dead serious about that.”

That same year, Dan lost his first Jiu-Jitsu tournament — the Joe Moreira National Championships which was the biggest in the United States at the time.

“That bothered me, dude. I wasn’t used to losing.”

Most Jiu-Jitsu competitors learn more from their losses than their victories. That appears true for Dan, because that loss drove him to move to the Bay to focus on that tournament for the following year. 

A year later, Dan returned and destroyed the blue belt division.

“I think I tapped everybody, but one person.”

After winning the gold medal in his weight class, he fought the absolute (all weights combined). Dan submitted everyone except a big guy in the finals. When Dan was down two points, he went to submit the guy with an arm bar.

“Dude, your arm popped,” Dan said after the match.

Dan takes teaching seriously and says it’s hard to fully invest in teaching and competition. You cannot give one-hundred percent to both.

Today his job is to motivate his students. In the early years his dad made sure he went to the gym and later Ralph provided the greatest motivation of his life. It was a lot easier when he did not have to think and just did what he was told.

“I wish I had a coach telling me, ‘Get out there and do this,’ because honestly, there are times I’ll teach and then just sit back and watch.”

He still puts in some tough training sessions, but Dan’s competitive side wishes he pushed a little harder. It’s hard to compete at the top levels without a good coach.  

“I love winning, dude.”

“Why do you love it?” I ask a seemingly dumb question.

“Because it feels so much better than losing.” We both laugh and I decide to leave it at that.

Dan has been teaching for almost two decades so, I ask what distinguishes the top students. He says the people who advance fastest are the ones who love to be at the gym training Jiu-Jitsu.

Dan tells me about a girl he promoted to blue belt after only one year. Some criticized him saying he should have waited longer, but then he explained her ambition.

She trains two times, every day and takes copious notes during class. She beats all the white belts in class and after he awarded her blue belt, she won her first tournament by submitting a girl who had been training for three years.

What separates her, I suggest, is her obsession. Dan says sometimes that’s what it takes if you want to be really good.

Dan reminded me of the great quote, “A black belt is only a white belt who never quit.”

For my final question, I ask if he would have done anything differently.

Dan thought about it and said he did not do well in school, so taking the education path probably wouldn’t have worked out.

He enjoys teaching his students and often receives compliments that his academy has a welcoming family environment that other gyms lack.

“I don’t have family that lives here,” Dan said candidly.

“Being here and having these Jiu-Jitsu friends to hang around…”

He pauses again to think.

“…the academy has become my family. This is probably where I’m meant to be.”

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