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How Early Should I Compete?

This weekend is US Grappling’s first  tournament of the year, Submission Only Greensboro, which always gets the new folks asking: is it too early for me to compete?

I’ve had a couple of these questions already, so I wanted to explain my own philosophy on this. It’s different for every person (more on that below), but here are the general principles I start from.

1. Competition Is Very Valuable Experience For Everyone. 

Even if you don’t plan to be a regular medal hunter, I think you — and everyone — should give a tournament a shot.

It’s a different intensity from daily sparring, and it’s hard to find that intensity elsewhere. It gives you the opportunity to roll against people that you know nothing about, so you can’t predict what techniques are likely to come at you. And it gives you the chance to set a goal, train hard for it, and go all-out for victory once the day comes. That’s great training!

Take it from the great Royler Gracie: everyone should compete at least once.

Apart from the standard benefits of competition, consider this: your training partners probably like you. Unless you are a jerk, but if you are reading this blog, then you are not a jerk. That means even if you roll hard, like we do at my academy, they are probably trying to be technical when rolling with you and avoid doing overly terrible things to you.

My training partners are very technical, have great cardio, and are relentless. We roll hard against each other. But if I get a collar grip and there’s hair in there, I’m not going to keep my grip and pull that person’s hair. If someone gets a choke on me, but it’s not a clean choke and they can’t finish, that person is probably not going to just facecrush me and give me gi burn.

… probably.

Where medals are at stake, though? Against someone who doesn’t know you? All bets are off. Facing off against someone who has no stake in you personally, knowing that person is trying to choke you or bend your joints the wrong way — and surviving that — is a powerful thing.

When a match ends, you know that person has done their level best to beat you up. And you made it out the other side. Competition gives you that satisfaction.


2. Have The Right Attitude About Competition

Especially during the first stages of your jiu-jitsu career, you’re there to learn. Period.

Thus, I don’t generally think new people should put tremendous pressure on themselves to win when competing. Don’t misunderstand me: You should always go out there with the goal to win every match, and the attitude that you’re going to win every match.

But you should also be able to put the tournament in perspective. If you lose every match, you’ve still gained valuable knowledge and experience. Now you know what it’s like to be around the hustle and bustle of a tournament, make weight, hear someone shout your name and push you out onto a mat to grapple against someone you don’t know.

That’s a huge win for you, even if you enter four divisions and go 0-4. Very few people compete their best during their first tournament. Getting the first one out of the way is a big step. 


3. In General, People Should Compete As Early As Possible …

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you should register for the Pans after your second class. But assuming you know one or two things to do from the major positions, I say go for it.

Personally, I competed very early on — my first tournament was after I had trained for a month. I think that was good for me. I won some matches, I lost some matches, I made some cringe-worthy decisions that I look back on with laughter, and I learned a lot of things not to do. And I was hooked.

Danger: No Stripe White Belt Trying To Pull Guard
This is my first ever gi match. Danger: No Stripe White Belt Trying To Pull Guard

This part is significant: I don’t even notice the hustle and bustle and excitement of tournaments anymore. After that first one, I started competing as often as possible.But I had a huge adrenaline dump after my first match at my first tournament, and wow, was I unprepared for that. It can be overwhelming your first time.

Yes, I have video of that match. No, you can’t see it.

 

That doesn’t happen to me any more, and I’m glad it happened a month in instead of a year in. Getting your first time out of the way early on means you’ll be all the more ready for the next one.

 

4. … But If You Don’t Feel Ready, It’s Better To Wait.

I always tell people that if they have any doubts about whether they’re ready for the experience, they should wait to compete. Feeling comfortable is important! This is what you do for fun, so you should enjoy it. Being unsure if you’re ready isn’t fun.

Now, there is a balance to be struck here. Everyone gets nervous, and it’s easy to find an excuse. How many people tell you they’re going to start training “as soon as they get in shape,” and then never get in “good enough” shape?

Part of the value of competition is challenging yourself to get out of that comfort zone. It’s hugely empowering to feel overwhelming nerves, to not be sure you should even be doing something, and then come out the other side.

Here’s how I resolve the balance. Anything that keeps people training is a good thing, in my view. If a competition risks robbing someone of the joy of training, that’s too early. So if you feel like you can handle losing, and it won’t discourage you, I say go for it.

As long as you enjoy yourself, you’ve won, even if you’ve lost every match.

 

5. Competition Gives You The Individual And Team Experience

You step out on the mat alone. No one is going to take that guy down for you, pass his guard, or choke him for you.

But you’re not alone. You didn’t train alone. You aren’t at the tournament alone. Your coach can’t armbar your opponent, but he or she can tell you where to move your leg so that you can do it yourself. And your team, if it’s anything like mine, will scream their heads off for you. Or, when your muscles are spasming right before the semis of absolute, they might even massage your forearms for you.

You can use this picture to guilt your teammates into massaging your forearms. You have my permission.
You can use this picture to guilt your teammates into massaging your forearms. You have my permission.

Why do I mention this? Because I believe jiu-jitsu competitions give you the best of both worlds. You get both the individual competition experience and the team experience. If you stink up the joint, like I did at the Pans in 2012, you still get to root for your friends and be thrilled when they medal.

If you do well, all the better. You stepped on the mat by yourself and did something most people will never do. Then you stepped off the mat and got mobbed with support by the people you train, sweat and occasionally bleed with.

Your team might not do this, exactly. But still.
Your team might not do this, exactly. But still.

 

It’s a special experience. And you can have it! So set a goal for when you’re going to compete, train hard for it, and remember: no matter what happens, you’ll have won by the end of the day.

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Tournament Schedule for 2014

It’s never too early to plan for next year. Assuming I’m healthy, I want to compete a lot again.

This is true for many reasons. I want to improve, obviously. I want to have competitive success, certainly. I also want to recruit lots of people for the Charity Challenge and try to raise a lot more money. And I want to see new places and revisit some old places I’ve been missing.

Everything’s better when you have your friends along, though. That’s why I’m publishing the tournaments I’m thinking about for 2014 now, so if anyone is interested in going to a particular tournament and splitting costs with me, we can get it planned well in advance.

Two caveats: First, I’ve listed the dates for 2013 unless the dates for 2014 have already been published. Second, and most importantly: no way am I doing all of these. Time, money, old man exhaustion and more are going to play a role in determining the schedule. But in case you’re interested in, say, road-tripping to Montreal, I want to know about as far in advance as possible so I’m not stuck going to something far away by myself.

Finally, a note: because I’m turning 40, I’m giving myself one major overseas tournament to compete in. Right now it looks like that’s going to be the Asian Open, which is right around my birthday and would let me visit Okinawa right after. There’s a chance a good friend of mine will be living in Germany next year, though, so if he is, I might do one of the European tournaments instead. I’ve bolded all of those tournaments, but I have to pick one.

Without further ado … the list:

3/2/2013 – US Grappling, Wake Forest, NC
3/20/2013: IBJJF Pan Jiu-Jitsu Championship
4/13/2013 – US Grappling Submission Only, Greensboro, NC
4/20/2013 — IBJJF New York Open
5/29-6/2/2013 – Mundials
6/22/2013 – US Grappling, Richmond, VA
6/28-29/2014 – IBJJF Paris Open
7/20/2013 – US Grappling, Henderson, NC
8/31/2013 — IBJJF Atlanta Open
9/28/2012: IBJJF Pan No-Gi Jiu-Jitsu Championship
10/5-6/2012: IBJJF Masters/Seniors Worlds
10/19/2013 – Pendergrass Classic US Grappling, Raleigh, NC
10/19-20/2013 — London Gi And NoGi IBJJF (*)
10/27/2013: IBJJF Asian Open 
11/2/2013: IBJJF NoGi Worlds
11/10/2013: IBJJF Munich Open (*)
11/16/2013: IBJJF Montreal Open
12/7/2013 – US Grappling Submission Only, Richmond.

See anything I missed?
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Final Tally For The Charity Challenge

When the year began, I knew I wanted to compete a lot. Competition makes you better, and you get to travel with your friends, and getting high-quality matches against guys you don’t know is fun.

A little extra motivation adds something, though. Before the first event of the season, I decided to donate $10 for every match I win this year to the Women’s Debate Institute, and an additional $10 to a second charity that blog readers could select. The winner of that vote was anti-cancer charity the George Pendergrass Foundation.

Now, the year isn’t over. I could conceivably still do Montreal, or Miami, or the No-Gi Worlds. For two reasons, though, I decided to wrap things up this weekend. First, I’m old and tired. I also have a few nagging injuries I’d like to let heal.

Every year, the Pendergrass twins — both black belts who have a great school, PAMA — hold benefit tournaments with US Grappling where proceeds help support the foundation. As it happens, the fall tournament was this weekend. It seemed like perfect timing to finalize the results and hand them a check.

That was all planned. What wasn’t planned was me getting sick the week before the tournament. As it happens, me getting stuck in a house for several days + Theraflu = me making an absurd giant novelty check. But then, how often do you get the chance to make an absurd giant novelty check?

Note: there is no "First National Bank of Berimbolo." Yet.
Note: there is no “First National Bank of Berimbolo.” Yet.

I want to thank the awesome folks who offered to match my donations to one charity or the other. Your generosity meant that every win this year was worth $45 to charity. I want to thank the Pendergrass brothers for doing great work to fight cancer, and for being great sports about my goofy check. And I want to thank everybody in the grappling community for the support, and in advance for your support next year.

Without further ado: the results.

FINAL CHARITY PROJECT STATISTICS
Total Matches Won For The Year: 16
Total Raised For Pendergrass Foundation: $480
Total Raised For Women’s Debate Institute: $240
Grand Total: $720

This money isn’t going to change the world, of course. But it’s the end of the year, we did some good, and because I stashed the cash a little at a time, I didn’t miss the money. I just thought of it as additional entry fees. I plan on doing this again next year, too — and you can get involved! More on that below.

Another cool thing about the tournament this weekend: my first two t-shirt designs for Cageside MMA came out. It was fun, and kind of surreal, to see people walking around wearing my shirts. Surreal in an awesome way, kind of like making a giant novelty check while hopped up on Theraflu.

One of the shirts, the “Just Train” shirt, you can see me wearing above. The writing inside the shirt consists of common excuses people use for not training. The other is a reference to this part of the old Gracies In Action tapes:

In-joke shirts for grappling nerds are the best.
In-joke shirts for grappling nerds are the best.

Finally, I want to say this: I had such a blast doing the charity project this year that I plan on doing it again next year. Again, I will be donating $10 for every match I win to the George Pendergrass Foundation and the the Women’s Debate Institute.

The only difference: this year I’ll be actively soliciting more people to match either some portion of my donation or all of it.

In the next month or so, I’ll be posting the tournaments I plan to attend next year. That way, if you’re interested in splitting costs for a tournament we can travel to together, or if you’re interested in donating to support the cause — or both — you can get in touch with me and we can set it up.

Thanks for reading. Let’s do this again next year.

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Thank The Monsters

I wanted to quit. I’m not going to lie about it.

It was last summer, and the teeth of the North Carolina heat had sunk deeply into our training space. The humidity made it tough to get air into your body under normal circumstances, and these weren’t normal circumstances. A black belt — my instructor’s instructor — was mounted on top of me at the end of a session.

The pressure was suffocating. I couldn’t get space. Sweat had crept into every fiber of my heavy gi, and I was starting to get that dreaded claustrophobic feeling where all you want to do is something, anything that will get him off of you. You know you need to hide your arms and protect your collars, but your lower brain functions are screaming at you to buck wildly and push at his chest. Worse, in the back of your mind there’s always that little voice reminding you that you can tap, even though tapping to pressure isn’t allowed.

I managed to shut these voices up until the round ended. I don’t know how long it took. My only answer to that question is “too long.”

Jiu-jitsu is fun. This was misery. But I thanked him for it afterward, and I thank him for it now.

Why? Because training hard feels bad, but is good for you.

My instructor, mounted on me, in the longest minute of my BJJ life.
My instructor, mounted on me, in the longest minute of my BJJ life. I don’t have a picture from the incident in the first section, thankfully.

This comes to mind because of my last match in the absolute division at the Pans last week. I lost in semifinals to the eventual silver medalist, a very tough guy with a suffocating top game. He took me down straight into half guard. I found myself in a deep crossface and facing considerable downward pressure from a strong guy with good technique. He had my head turned the wrong way, making it difficult for me to bridge, and used the position to set up a tight Darce choke.

Why do I mention this? At no point did the thought of giving up cross my mind. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting back to a decent guard position where I could defend myself and, from there, get some attacks going.

That’s not because I wasn’t suffering: it was because I was used to suffering. Because I had trained for it. Powerful and skilled as my opponent was, he wasn’t a black belt coming after me at the end of a long, hard training day.

Don't get me wrong, this is still very uncomfortable.
Don’t get me wrong, I was still very uncomfortable at several junctures during this match.

I still lost the match by points, but I survived and escaped the position. I didn’t get submitted: I recovered guard and got some attacks going. And I have no doubt that my performance was better than it would have been had I not experienced that type of hard training I just described. Training intensely prepares you for these terrible spots.

When I say “training hard,” I don’t just mean “going all-out, until exhaustion” or even “putting yourself in awful positions.” I mean challenging yourself by training with people who are appreciably better than you. Jake Whitfield, the black belt I wrote about above, can submit me more or less whenever he wants and however he wants. When he was smashing me under mount, he was teaching me to endure a terrible spot. That’s a vital lesson.

This not as fun as it looks. But I'm glad I did it.
Stuff like this is not as fun as it looks. But I’m glad I did it.

There are other lessons to be learned, though, from training with high-level guys. I just finished the Pans camp at BJJ Conquest, where I was fortunate to train with some fantastic black belts. No one there was trying to smash me in the traditional sense: guys like Kail Bosque or Super Dave Zennario don’t have to. They were able to utterly dismantle me using pure technique with minimal effort. Just getting the chance to observe jiu-jitsu players on the level of Samir Chantre, Quiexinho and Vicente Junior helped me learn. Having them effortlessly pass my guard or sweep me — essentially drilling positions on me while I was rolling — was inspiring.

These scenarios presented a different type of challenge than the situation I described earlier. Instead of just trying to survive a spot, I had to try to figure out how these guys were breaking me down so easily, and how I needed to evolve to improve. That forces you to improve your technical understanding. Whenever an upper belt asks me to roll, in my view they’re doing me a huge favor — especially a black belt. Yes, I’m going to get owned. No, I can’t prevent that. Yes, it helps me grow.

I was one of least skilled people at the camp, which helped me learn a lot.
I was one of least skilled people at the camp, which helped me learn a lot.

The camp was a special opportunity, of course. But there are opportunities to train hard every day, though, wherever you are. Training with people of different skill sets and body types, people who give you problems in different spots for different reasons, can present its own challenges. There are several white belts who were good wrestlers that can give me problems when they get on top: if I don’t let them get on top, how can I prepare for competitions where I will face guys with similar skills?

I just want to say one more thing. It’s easy to say this and hard to do it. It sucks to get beaten up. It can be demoralizing to “lose” constantly, even in training. That’s one reason it’s so important to control your ego and gain perspective.

The guy that regularly crushes other white belts easily in training probably feels great at the end of the night, like he could take on the world. The guy who just got eviscerated over and over and saw his partners smiling and not sweating may not even feel like he deserves the belt he’s wearing in the moment.

But who is learning more? If this pattern of training is repeated, who will be better in the long run?

Back to the story I started this with: after the round ended, I was exhausted and relieved. Jake turned to me and said this: “The fact that you didn’t freak out down there is a credit to the monsters that you train with.”

That’s the fundamental truth of it. Our teammates and training partners help us succeed, even if — especially if — they are dominating us. It feels great to win all the time, to be the best guy in the room with regularity. It’s just harder to improve if that’s all you do.

Train with monsters. Thank those monsters. Even when they’re compressing your chest, they might just be the best friends you’ll have in jiu-jitsu.

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Pans Tournament Report

I’m going to make this quick, because I have another long post ready to go, but I wanted to get this out there. This weekend, my teammates and I went to the No-Gi Pan Jiu-Jitsu Championship in New York City. This was my last big competition of the year, so I really wanted to finish the year right.

Happily, things went very well. I was able to win gold in my weight and take bronze in absolute. My finals match in weight was a close, tough one, but I’m actually happiest with my performance in absolute: I had three matches against very strong opponents, and was able to win two of them. I’d been concentrating on improving my showing in the open class — I’d gotten close to breaking through but hadn’t quite done so until this weekend.

Look for the smiley, nerdy little guy.
Look for the smiley, nerdy little guy.

My squad did great as well. My coach, Seth Shamp, and my teammate Kim Rice took double gold, and my fellow blue belt Sean McLaughlin won his weight class also. Jason Mask and Hameed Sanders shared a division and took silver and bronze, respectively.

I'm standing a stair up from Seth and he's still taller than me.
I’m standing a stair up from Seth and he’s still taller than me.

SPECIAL THANKS TO: my coach, Seth Shamp; Jake Whitfield; Roy Marsh; Vicente Junior, Samir Chantre, Quiexinho, Kail Bosque and everyone at BJJ Conquest, Super Dave Zennario, Brian Stuebner and everybody from the Pans camp; and especially every one of my training partners at TJJ Durham and TJJ Goldsboro NC.

…

AND NOW, AN ALMOST-FINAL REPORT ON THE CHARITY CHALLENGE

Quick recap for those who are new to the blog: I’m donating $10 for every match I win this year to the Women’s Debate Institute. But to encourage others to get involved, I asked people to vote on a second charity to benefit as well. I’ve told some folks this, but the winner of that vote was anti-cancer charity the George Pendergrass Foundation, which is run by the twin black belt instructors at PAMA, edging out other worthy causes like Reporters Without Borders, RAINN, the Wounded Warrior Project and Carolina Basset Hound Rescue.

A few gracious people offered to match my donations, meaning every win this year is worth $35 to charity so far. I think all the rewards  are ready to be handed out at this point, and I’ll be distributing a bottle of the rarest and best beer in the world, Westvleteren 12 to someone soon. Check out all the ways you can still get involved and help.

I plan on distributing the money at US Grappling’s next Pendergrass classic, and I’ll do a full wrap-up post then.

I won three matches this time around, adding to the total from before. Here’s where we’re at:

CHARITY PROJECT STATISTICS
Matches Won This Tournament: 3
Total Won For The Year: 16
Money Raised For Charity: $105
Total Raised So Far: $560

REWARDS UNLOCKED
One bottle Westvleteren 12
Custom Photoshops: 2
Private Lessons: 1

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Atlanta Open Recap

It was a weekend of firsts in Atlanta. For the first time, I worked a table at an IBJJF tournament (more on that below), and for the first time (spoiler alert), I took gold at an IBJJF event!

1269065_10151607007913483_121904831_o
Shane, you’ve looked better, homie … but then, so have I.

Working the table was actually a productive and fun experience. For one thing, I got to work with some incredible black belt referees, guys like David “Rock” Jacobs and Marlon Loor Vera. You learn a lot seeing how knowledgable and accomplished black belts approach matches — and it was fun. I also got to work a Lucas Lepri match and get a front-row seat to watch Bruno Malfacine.

The picture above was taken right before the adult blue belt final, and I’m including it because it was represents the weirdest table work story of the weekend. Usually, the matches come bang-bang-bang, one right after the other. But the final was delayed. The match runner came by and said “we’re going to give this one 10 minutes: we’ve got some puking happening.”

“Which guy?”

“… both of them.”

The run through the division had gassed both guys so much that each of them vomited not once, not twice, but roughly two dozen times. When we thought we had the match ready to go, one of the guys had to rush off the mat for one final stomach evacuation. Good times!

This is what happened in the match. (Don’t worry, it’s safe for work and life). This is probably the best way it could have finished.

The other reason I enjoyed working the table is it gave me something to do other than sit around thinking about my matches. A common problem I wind up having is getting stuck in my own head and winding myself before matches. Having something to focus on only helped. (My mental strategy was to think like this: hey, the worst that can happen is I lose a jiu-jitsu match. I’ve lost lots of jiu-jitsu matches! Been there.)

The only unfortunate part: I really enjoy hanging out with my teammates and taking pictures. I didn’t get to do almost any of that. Next time!

A few notable things from the tournament:

* I’ve been a blue belt since June 2012. During that time, I’ve trained so much that the IBJJF declared my belt too worn and frayed for competition. This made me almost as happy as the medal, at least after I was able to borrow a belt from another Team Royce guy (thanks, Braxton). Some people say it’s frayed and worn because I wash it too much. I prefer to think it’s the training, but it’s true that I’m anti-belt-microbes.

* In the gym, I play around with all kind of new, fun and risky techniques. I’ve been known to berimbolo on occasion. But in this (and most) tournaments, I didn’t do anything that isn’t on the Triangle Jiu-Jitsu blue belt basics curriculum. This was exactly how I’d hoped it would go: the fundamentals work and you can never drill them too much.

1274100_10151607014393483_1209939923_o
Good things happen when you put a hand in the collar.

I had two matches in my division and one in absolute. All three were against good guys and accomplished competitors. Unfortunately, I lost my absolute match by advantage in the last 30 seconds — the guy tried to pass and forced me to turtle, giving up the advantage. But that match taught me a lot and gave me some things to work on in the future.

I felt good about both matches in weight, too. I pulled guard in one match and played top in the other after getting an ankle pick takedown, so I got to work both top and bottom game. I’d give you the full play-by-play, but no one really cares about that but me and my mom. And mom’s visiting in three weeks, so I’ll get to tell her in person.

You can also read my awesome teammate Kim’s recap as well. So let’s get straight to the photo and the Charity Challenge update!

First IBJJF gold!
First IBJJF gold!

Quick recap for those who are new to the blog: I’m donating $10 for every match I win this year to the Women’s Debate Institute. But to encourage others to get involved, I asked people to vote on a second charity to benefit as well. I’ve told some folks this, but the winner of that vote was anti-cancer charity the George Pendergrass Foundation, edging out other worthy causes like Reporters Without Borders, RAINN, the Wounded Warrior Project and Carolina Basset Hound Rescue.

A few gracious people offered to match my donations — and, in fact, another person has pledged since my last post — meaning every win this year is worth $35 to charity so far. There are still a ton of cool rewards you can win if you get involved, including a bottle of the rarest and best beer in the world, Westvleteren 12. Check out all the ways you can get involved and help.

And now, let’s tally the results! I won seven matches this time around, adding to the total from before. Here’s where we’re at:

CHARITY PROJECT STATISTICS
Matches Won This Tournament: 2
Total Won For The Year: 13
Money Raised For Charity: $70
Total Raised So Far: $455

REWARDS UNLOCKED
Custom Photoshops: 2
Private Lessons: 1

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Grapplemania Recap

This blog post will be organized into two questions.

QUESTION THE FIRST: Is it weird that two or three of my favorite matches from this past tournament were ones I lost? 

U.S. Grappling’s Grapplemania tournament just wrapped up. It’s always a fun and well-run tournament, and I decided to do six divisions: all the 30+ divisions in gi and no-gi, all the young man weight divisions gi and no-gi, and both 30+ absolute open weight divisions. (When U.S. Grappling posts the complete results, I’ll tell you how my team did, but for now I just have some anecdotes).

I knew doing six divisions meant I would be really tired by the end of the day, but I didn’t realize exactly how tired. I’d done all eight divisions on two occasions, and only one of those gassed me out this hard.

Part of it was competing against guys with super cardio: one of my opponents that I faced three times used to be a professional runner, and he’s great at pushing the pace to tire you out. Part of it was doing absolute: you’ve got to work pretty hard to stop big guys from passing your guard.

DSC_3918

The thing is, when you’re tired, your technique takes over — because it has to. Rickson Gracie has said that he’d exhaust himself before certain training sessions just to be sure he wasn’t muscling anything or using explosive athleticism.

Now, I don’t have muscles or explosive athleticism to begin with, so you can be sure I’m using all technique by the middle of the day.

Don't sweat the technique.

That’s why I think my three favorite matches were ones where I came up short. In each of these matches, I gassed hard. But I was able to fight through that adversity and survive, relying on technique to do so. I always try my best to win, but one of my main goals for the tournament was to focus on the training and learning aspect of competition as well. I’ll give one example of these matches to demonstrate what I mean.

In a six-minute blue belt match, I faced that tough, skilled opponent with great cardio I mentioned before. For the first third of the match, I was doing well. Then, the pace he forced me to fight at made me bonk, and bonk hard. I seriously felt nauseous. That’s when he passed. It got worse from there: he flowed through a series of bad positions for me — took knee on belly, mounted, went back to knee on belly, etc. Ugh.

Out of necessity, I went into survival mode. I told myself, “you have one minute of hard rolling in you during this match. You have to survive the onslaught for three minutes, and then just go full-out and try to submit him.”

And that’s what happened. I didn’t win, of course, and lost by a lot of points, but I was really happy with my survival skills (which are at the core of jiujitsu) and with the fact that I’ve gotten to know what my body is capable of.

No win for you this time!
No win for you this time!

At the end of the day I had three silver medals and one bronze out of seven divisions. Sure, I would have loved to get one gold or pick up one or two more medals, but on balance I’m happy with how I did.

 

QUESTION THE SECOND: Does anyone know where to buy a giant novelty check?

I ask because the year is half over, and one of my donors and I want to deliver the charity project funds with one of those comically large Ed McMahon-style checks.

Heeeeeyoooooooooo!

Quick recap for those who are new to the blog: I’m donating $10 for every match I win this year to the Women’s Debate Institute. But to encourage others to get involved, I asked people to vote on a second charity to benefit as well. I’ve told some folks this, but the winner of that vote was anti-cancer charity the George Pendergrass Foundation, edging out other worthy causes like Reporters Without Borders, RAINN, the
Wounded Warrior Project and Carolina Basset Hound Rescue.

A few gracious people offered to match my donations, meaning every win this year is worth $25 to charity so far. There are still a ton of cool rewards you can win if you get involved, including a bottle of the rarest and best beer in the world, Westvleteren 12. Check out all the ways you can get involved and help.

And now, let’s tally the results! I won seven matches this time around, adding to the total from before. Here’s where we’re at:

CHARITY PROJECT STATISTICS
Matches Won This Tournament: 7
Total Won For The Year: 11
Money Raised For Charity: $175
Total Raised So Far: $275

REWARDS UNLOCKED
Custom Photoshops: 2
Private Lessons: 1

Next stop: the Atlanta Open on Aug. 31. I can only do one division there (two if I get really lucky), so there won’t be as many matches for me. But Team Royce Gracie North Carolina is going to take a big group of people, so hopefully we can make some noise.

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Tournament Wrap: NC State Championships

My first tournament of the year — and the first one that counts toward my charity project — was this past Saturday.

More than 300 people entered US Grappling‘s NC State Championships this weekend. It was one of the biggest tournaments I’ve seen in North Carolina, if not the biggest. It was a very cool environment to be a part of: people drove down from West Virginia, Virginia and Washington, D.C. to compete.

I had several great matches against very tough competitors. There are some seriously skillful individuals in my divisions.

Before I get to the results — hey, I’ve got to keep some semblance of suspense, even though everyone reading this was probably at the tournament except my mom — I want to say two things: first, I’m grateful for the two people so far who have agreed to match my donations to charity based on the number of competition matches I win this year. With their help, every win this year is worth $25 to charity. I was stoked to cost myself and my friends some money.

Second, this weekend made me think about the process by which we improve at jiu-jitsu. Primarily, my instructors and training partners are the people that help me get better on a day-to-day basis, and I owe them a lot. But in competing against good BJJ players that I don’t roll with on the daily, I notice different details about the techniques I use, and the techniques others use against me. Those competition matches always teach me a ton about what strides I’ve taken and what else I need to work on. So thanks, guys.

As for results: Out of of the four divisions I entered, I came away with two gold medals and one silver. I won gold in both men’s and 30+ no-gi at my weight, took second in the 30+ gi, and didn’t place in the men’s gi. I lost in the first round to the same dude I faced in the 30+ gi finals, a really tough and technical guy.

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Yes, I’m rocking my Green Gi patch and rocking my Cageside Fight Co. gi. Shillin’ like a villain.

My teammates also performed righteously, when US Grappling posts the final results, I’ll share a complete list of their medals. Just don’t want to leave anybody out, and we had a ton of entrants.

I had entered all the absolute divisions as well: was looking forward to getting a bunch of extra matches in. Unfortunately, I have a nagging knee problem that I tweaked in my last match at weight.

Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious — but it still wouldn’t have been the smartest thing to play guard against dudes over 200 pounds with a gimpy knee, so I bowed out to roll another day. I love doing absolute, but I do enough dumb and fun things that I didn’t feel like adding to the list.

How’d it go for charity? Here are the numbers:

CHARITY PROJECT STATISTICS
Matches Won: 4
Total Won For The Year: 4
Money Raised For Charity: $100
Total Raised So Far: $100

REWARDS UNLOCKED
Custom Photoshops: 2
Private Lessons: 1

CHARITY VOTES (the standings for the second charity I’ll give to):
George Pendergrass Foundation: 5
Carolina Basset Hound Rescue: 5
Reporters Without Borders: 3
RAINN: 2
Wounded Warrior Project: 2

Remember, voting is still open: I’m donating to the Women’s Debate Institute already, but will donate to another charity chose by people who vote as well. Right now, leading the charge are two local charities, the anti-cancer George Pendergrass Foundation and Carolina Basset Hound Rescue.

There are still a ton of cool rewards you can win, including a bottle of the rarest and best beer in the world, Westvleteren 12. Check out all the ways you can get involved and help.

Thanks as always for reading! Big fun this weekend. Next stop: Submission Only Greensboro.

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Trip Report: Mundials. Or: Why You Should Go and Compete

Warning: this blog contains precious little actual jiu-jitsu match content. If you want to know how my team did, my teammate Kim’s (awesome) blog has a great write-up on that. 

A few weeks ago, my team took a small cohort to the IBJJF World Jiu-Jitsu Championships, commonly known as the Mundials. It’s no exaggeration to say it was one of my greatest life experiences so far, and I’m a late-30s hobbyist who does this for fun.

If you do Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, you seriously should go. And if you’re going, you might as well compete and be a part of it.

Not convinced? I have three reasons for you. True, these three reasons are a cleverly disguised excuse to tell some Mundials stories, but I mean them all the same.
REASON ONE: IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW YOU DO: YOU WILL LEARN A TON

Any time you step on the mat, you’re going to get valuable information. At the Mundials, though, you get people gathered from all over the world — each of whom takes a slightly different approach to jiu-jitsu. Even if you only get one match, you’ll get a valuable sense of what others are doing, and how that differs from (or mimics) what you’re doing at your school or in your region.

Examples of what I took away from the Mundials are too numerous to name, but let me list a couple: most people want to pull guard, so I need to shoot faster if I want to get takedown points; and I’ve put in a lot of work on passing the open guard, but I need to put in a lot more, especially on spider guard variants.

(Oh, and one of my teammates kept saying that maybe he’d go, but only to watch. We talked him into competing. He wound up with a (well-deserved) bronze medal. No excuses!)

You also get to pose like this in front of Walter Pyramid.

Besides competing, you can watch match after match. It was helpful for me to watch all the other people around my level. And it was beyond helpful and inspiring to watch those folks who are way, way, way, above my level. These folks are truly the best in the world.

Which leads me to reason number two you should go:
REASON TWO: YOU GET TO BE A FAN

My teammate Hameed and I are admitted BJJ nerds. No shame in that game.

We fly the nerd flag high and proud. Got a DVD? We’ll watch it. Making a sweet new gi? We want it. Put out a jiu-jitsu podcast? We probably already listen to it.

Because I was competing at white belt and Hameed at blue, we got our matches done on the first day.This meant we were free to enter BJJ heaven immediately after. Almost everyone in the jiu-jitsu world that you would like to meet attends the Mundials, and almost without exception, they couldn’t possibly be nicer. Hameed and I brought our white belts to get people to sign. By the end of the tournament, both of them were covered with the signatures of top-level competitors and legends.


Hameed and Roger
Now *that’s* how you dirty up a white belt.

This is one reason I love sport jiu-jitsu. Everyone is so approachable, including the best contemporary players and the best of all time. I hope jiu-jitsu continues to grow — at least, I think I do — but it’s nice that there’s such a community feeling even at a riotously competitive event like this.

When I say “community feeling,” I’m including the Gracie Barra guys who threatened to kick my ass if they saw that white belt end up on eBay. No worries, guys, I understand. Part of community is holding others accountable. But that belt’s hanging on my wall for the duration.

Then there are the matches. This year featured the Rodolfo-Buchecha match that everyone online was talking about, and let me tell you, it was even better in person.

Buchecha after winning gold.

Imagine watching 12 mats of action, and on maybe 6 of them you have at least one legend. That’s what the black belt competition day are like. I should write more about this, but just think: you look one mat, and there’s Xande Ribeiro. On another, there’s Caio Terra. On another, there’s Cobrinha, and … on and on.

Bill Cooper enthusiastically agrees that you should attend the Mundials.

It gets overwhelming. In the best possible way. If you’re fortunate enough to have your instructor with you, he or she can point out the details on what they’re trying to do, too.

Finally, the most important reason of all to attend the Mundials:
REASON THREE: MIGUEL TORRES MAY DECLARE YOU A G

When my teammate Ryan got called to the bullpen before his purple belt match, I went with him. It’s important to have somebody with you in case something goes wrong — for example, a problem with your gi.

(Before next year’s Mundials, I’m going to devote an entire post to How To Make Sure You Don’t Get DQed. The gi requirements are no joke, and they’re serious about them.)

Ryan had a patch on the back of his gi that was frayed. They wanted him to remove it. Naturally, I didn’t have a knife — I’ll fix that next year. So I took a quarter and used the ridges to tear out the stitches. This worked just fine on three sides of the patch. But the fourth side was reinforced with adamantium or some shit.

Now, it’s nerve-wracking enough to be in the bullpen. You’ve put in tons of work, put out lots of money, and you’re about to put it all on the line. It doubles the nerves when it looks like they might not let you compete. I wanted to get rid of this patch problem and get the gi approved ASAP so Ryan could chill.

“Ryan,” I says, “lean back.”

I took the side of the patch between my teeth and just reared my head back. Yup, I got the patch off by tearing it out with my teeth. Sweet relief.

Then I hear from the left of me: “That’s some G shit right there!”

It’s UFC veteran and BJJ black belt Miguel Torres. “This guy’s a straight G!” he announces to the crowd, who laugh as Miguel offers me a fistbump.

If you go to the Mundials, I am sure something like this will happen to you.

This can also happen to you, but you’ve got to make sure your patch game is tight first.

IN SUMMARY

If you love BJJ, you’ll have a blast at the worlds even if you get submitted in under a minute. The sting of defeat is temporary. The experience is something you’ll value forever. Trust me.

Next tournaments: US Grappling July 28 (two days after I step off a trans-Pacific flight, yikes), and probably one more tune-up before the No-Gi Pans on September 29. Can’t wait.