Rolling on the River

Let's say it's time to spar, and that the buzzer has been set for 100 seconds. Nobody has said what type of roll it's going to be, so it's up to each pair.

The buzzer rings and off they go.

I just watched a video of a hundred seconds of a nice roll. It started from mount, went to modified, to guard, to an armbar attempt, to triangle setup, to back mount, to triple threat position and back to mount. Mixed in with all that were a lot of attempts to shift, and to reverse, and to set up submission, and to do counters. There was almost constant movement. They were only in any one position for a few seconds.

Another roll starts with other participants. They start standing. After a bit of inconclusive grabbing, one participant pulls guard, and drags his partner down. The partner tries to break the guard and pass, but is locked down and unsuccessful. Other than 10 seconds on their feet, they spent the entire time locked into the guard.

Group A practised a great deal of technique and movement. Group B did not.

What was different? The first pair were rolling to learn, and the second were rolling to win, or at least to not lose.

Those are very, very different things.

Let's start over, but set the buzzer to go at a much more normal 5 minutes of time.

Let's have the entire class rolling like the first people. They roll until the buzzer, trying things and not worrying much about the outcome. They are relaxed and fluid. They rotate partners at the bell. They remain fresh.

Let's have another class roll like the second pair. They do everything they can to submit or dominate their opponent. Most of the time they are locked together and burning vast amounts of energy. Rolling this way for any length of time is incredibly draining. They also rotate to new partners, but are soon exhausted as the drill continues.

In the second group, success seems to come to people who are larger, and more experienced.

In the first group, these factors are less important. The goal is for both people to get to try things. It also doesn't matter to the “better” person if they get submitted.

In the second group, somebody big and experienced would never let anybody get control of them, let alone to permit them to try a submission.

In the first group, big people try to match their partners for power. Sometimes more experienced people let their less-skilled partner achieve a superior position, and to launch a submission attempt.

This is good for both people. The less-skilled partner gets to practice submissions on a moving target, so to speak. The more-skilled gets to practice escaping from a submission once it gets locked in.

In the first group, people practice positions and moves they are weak at, and that they wish to improve.

In the second group, people only do what they are really good at already, so that they can “win.” They become the equivalent of a good boxer who only has great left hook, but whose jab sucks, and has no right hand shots to speak of.

Also, and just as importantly, the first group is having tons more fun. This is especially true for smaller, and lesser-skilled people.

If you are the only hundred-pound man or woman in a group full of large, athletic men that only rolls competitively, you will never, ever submit anybody. You will always be on the bottom, being crushed and submitted repeatedly. You will hate it.

If you are the only hundred-pound man or woman in a group that rolls to learn, you will have partners who roll with you as an equal. You will get lots of chances to get on top, and to try for submissions. You won't get them all, but you will get some.

If you are a 250-pound muscle man in a competitively rolling group, you will be likely be at the top of the food chain, and used to controlling and submitting partners.

If you are a 250-pound muscle man in a group that rolls to learn, you will be used to partners getting you into difficult situations that you have practised defending without using much power. You are likely quite comfortable being on the bottom.

Suppose the competitive 250-pound guy ends up rolling with somebody who weighs in at 325, and is 6 inches taller, and even stronger. Everything he's learned to be good at will no longer work. He will find himself trapped on the bottom, unable to get out, and forced to defend against one submission after another.

The roll-to-learn 250-pound guy facing the 325 pound giant will also find himself on the bottom and defending, but will have spent his career training for just that situation.

Our school rolls-to-learn style MOST of the time. I love it, even though I'm one of the bigger guys. It is fun. I love trying things, and defending things that my friends attempt.

Every so often, our instructor mandates what is called, “keep it real,” and we go competitive-style, and quickly get locked down, which is dull as dirt. For smaller and less-experienced people, I don't think it's any fun at all. I'm just glad we don't do it all the time.