The Daily Think

Thanksgiving is always about Cobra Kai binge watching and with that I got to thinking about the man who started it all, MR. MIYAGI! Let’s face it: when it comes to coaches in sports, most of them don’t deserve a wax job, let alone a wax statue in the Hall of Fame. But then there’s Mr. Miyagi. The man, the myth, the bonsai tree whisperer. He turned Daniel LaRusso, a kid with all the athletic prowess of a soggy noodle, into a karate champion in just six weeks. SIX. WEEKS. Somewhere out there, every coach who’s ever given a halftime pep talk is crying into their Gatorade.

A Hands-On Approach
Most coaches start with conditioning, game strategies, or, you know, teaching the sport. Miyagi? He starts with free labor. He’s like, “Hey kid, you want to learn karate? Great, paint my fence.” If this isn’t the most genius pyramid scheme ever invented, I don’t know what is.

But here’s the kicker: it worked. Turns out “Wax on, wax off” wasn’t just a chore—it was a secret training technique. In the time it takes most kids to figure out which way a punching bag swings, Daniel had mastered the muscle memory to block punches, paint fences, and probably apply a flawless coat of carnauba to any vehicle within a 10-mile radius.

This is where Miyagi’s brilliance shines. While other coaches were busy saying things like, “Run it again!” or “Hustle harder!” Miyagi was silently building Daniel into a karate machine disguised as a frustrated teenager. Every brushstroke, every wax smear, every splinter from sanding that floor—it all turned into an unbeatable defense. Miyagi essentially invented CrossFit without the membership fees or insufferable Instagram posts.

The Six-Week Miracle

Six weeks to win the All-Valley Karate Tournament. SIX WEEKS. That’s barely enough time to grow a decent playoff beard, and yet, Miyagi did what seemed impossible.

Now, let’s do some math here. If we assume Daniel trained with Miyagi for three hours a day (and let’s be real, half of that was spent whining), that’s 126 hours of total training. Compare that to the other kids in the tournament who’d been training for years. Miyagi turned Daniel into a fighting machine in less time than it takes most people to finish a Netflix series.

Meanwhile, other coaches are out there holding weekend retreats, reviewing game tapes, and writing up complicated playbooks. Miyagi? He’s like, “Here’s a bonsai tree and a bucket of wax. Good luck.”

Mental Mastery
Let’s not overlook Miyagi’s psychological warfare. When Daniel was at his lowest, Miyagi didn’t just give him a pep talk—he gave him a lesson in life disguised as a folk tale. While other coaches were shouting clichés like, “Leave it all on the mat!” or “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take!” Miyagi was dropping wisdom bombs like a Zen ninja.

“Walk left side, safe. Walk right side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later, get squish just like grape.” Translation? Don’t half-ass anything. And if you’re Daniel, don’t even try to argue because Miyagi would just raise an eyebrow and somehow make you feel like an idiot without saying another word.

This wasn’t coaching—it was Jedi-level mind control. Simple wisdom that also translates to “grow up and be a damn man or the world is gonna eat you up!” Daniel didn’t just learn how to fight; he learned how to believe in himself. And if that’s not the mark of a great coach, I don’t know what is.

Innovation Over Imitation
Let’s talk about the crane kick. Yes, the crane kick. The move that defied logic, physics, and probably several OSHA regulations. Was it legal? Debatable. Was it effective? Absolutely. Miyagi didn’t just teach Daniel to fight; he taught him to innovate.

While the other fighters were doing traditional moves, Daniel was out here standing on one leg like a flamingo with a grudge. And the best part? It worked. One swift kick to Johnny’s face, and Daniel was hoisting the trophy while Cobra Kai looked like a bunch of overgrown toddlers who’d just lost their lollipops.

You think Phil Jackson ever came up with a play like that? Bill Belichick? Vince Lombardi? Please. Those guys are geniuses, sure, but none of them had the audacity to say, “Stand on a post, flap your arms a bit, and wait for the magic to happen.”

The Man Behind the Magic
Let’s not forget, Miyagi wasn’t just a coach—he was a lifestyle. He didn’t have fancy sports drinks or a flashy gym. He had a yard full of vintage cars, a love for bonsai trees, and an endless supply of cryptic proverbs.

And let’s not overlook his fashion sense. That headband? Iconic. The loose-fitting shirts? Comfortable yet intimidating. Miyagi had the drip before drip was even a thing. Meanwhile, other coaches are out here in polo shirts and khakis, looking like they’re late for a PTA meeting.

Legacy of Greatness
What makes Miyagi the GOAT isn’t just that he turned Daniel into a champion—it’s that he did it without ever compromising his principles. No shortcuts, no dirty tricks, no overbearing “win at all costs” mentality. He taught Daniel how to win, sure, but he also taught him how to live.

And let’s not forget, Daniel wasn’t exactly the most promising student. He was whiny, awkward, and had the confidence of a goldfish in a shark tank. But Miyagi saw potential in him, took him under his wing, and in six weeks turned him into the Karate Kid.

In the TV Show Cobra Kai, Daniel became one of the biggest auto-dealers in the valley. Impressive! The legacy of coaching and mentoring didn’t stop at Audi sales, it also led to him raising several championship level children, and teaching Miyagi dojo karate throughout the valley. Legacy for GOAT coaches is important.

So, to all the coaches out there: take notes. Forget the playbooks and the pep talks. What you really need is a fence that needs painting, a car that needs waxing, and a willingness to spout cryptic wisdom at a moment’s notice.

Because at the end of the day, winning isn’t just about skill or strategy—it’s about having a coach who believes in you. And if that coach happens to be a karate master with a soft spot for bonsai trees? Well, you’re already one step ahead of the competition.

Wax on, kick ass.