Scott-free

I don’t much like getting hurt. That should be obvious, but perhaps it isn’t. I do Jiu-Jitsu after all.

The list of worst things that have happened to my body while training would include a startlingly dislocated thumb, a badly damaged finger joint, an assortment of broken toes, an arm wrecked in an arm bar, and a buggered-up knee. Nothing worse than that, but even so it could have added up to my being a seriously hobbled-up old fellow if any of them had been even slightly worse.

I could have been forced to struggle with a crippled-up leg, and an arm of very limited usefulness, with fingers and toes that would be better suited on a wicked witch.

Should this scare me off?

What have I gained from Jiu-Jitsu that could possibly compensate?

Well, for one thing, my training may have saved my life.

No, I was never attacked by a drunken assailant or anything like that. I was, however, almost murdered by my bicycle.

It happened while riding down the big hill right next to our home. My lovely folding bike decided that it would be an appropriate time to use its unique skill, and my handle bars suddenly collapsed.

I don’t recall the exact sequence of the crash itself. I was probably going about 20kph, so there was’t much time involved between the instant recognition that I was going down, and for the rough landing to all have resolved itself.

I was on my back, on the road, and quite all right.

There was nothing more than a little bit of pavement burn. My helmet was intact, but had taken some impact. The question should be, how did I manage to face plant off of my self-collapsing bike, at relatively high speed, onto a roughly paved street, and end up safely on my back with no real injuries at all.

Clearly I had to have tucked my head to my chest and rolled over my worst injured body part, my shoulder. If I had not, it would have been a real face plant directly onto a rather unforgiving roadway.

I did what we do at Jiu-Jitsu, without conscious thought being involved, and it went well enough that I emerged intact.

Consider what happens to most people in my age category when they fall down in more normal circumstances. On that basis, one would have to consider it quite remarkable that I got off scott-free from my little incident.

If, in fact, my training is what saved my bacon, every minute of effort, and injury incurred on the mat, has been more than worthwhile. There were no broken teeth from my bike crash, nor a fractured skull, nor any snapped necks or backs, or even any seriously hooped up shoulders.

I wonder when I will fall again. Everybody falls every so often.

I fall more than most. In fact, last night alone, I must have hit the ground several dozen times. Of course, it was in a controlled and padded environment. Over the past year, I’ve probably gone down several thousand times, and since my training started the total has probably reached 20-30,000 floor impacts.

Jiu-Jitsu might have just saved my life, without any fighting being involved in any way.

Mileage May Vary

Here’s the magic that my new car does.

Let’s say you have a 2018 Ford F150 truck, and your sister has a 2018, and your brother has a 2018 Prius, and I have my spanky red Prius Prime. What does it cost to drive around?

We all drive 80 kilometres. Around here current gas prices are about $1.35 per litre, and household electricity is $8.29-$12.43 per kilowatt hour depending on how much you use. My house has electric heating, so we pay the higher rate.

Or course, the big truck owner will pay the most to move his machine around. To go the 80 km, it will cost the truckster $14.94.

Sis, in her Corolla will get off much more cheaply. Her rate for the same distance will be $8.21.

The brother, in his gas-sipping Prius hybrid car will make the first two vehicle owners seem overly extravagant. The price to move one of those babies 80 km is only $4.86.

But I don’t drive a big Ford, or a Corolla, or a Prius. My car of choice is a Prius Prime. It is what you call a “plug-in hybrid.”

You plug into house current, and that charges an extra battery that can propel the machine happily down the highway at whatever speed you choose for a 40km distance without using any gas at all. Beyond that, it automatically and seamlessly turns into a normal Prius hybrid.

Taking that puppy 80km down the road will take exactly half the gas that the Prius burned. That’s a paltry $2.43 for petrol.

The funny thing is, when I talk about my car, people freak out about how much all the electricity must be costing. Really? Gas versus electricity. That’s why I did the actual math.

To charge my car up to cover the first half of our test distance costs me a grand total of slightly under $.75. Adding on the price of the gas for the second half of the trip and the bill for 80km totals $3.18. For somebody who qualifies for the cheaper electric rate it would be somewhat lower.

Now, I’m not saying a Prius Prime is the right car for everybody. For me it is. Let’s say you find yourself always driving very long distances, and would rarely be in a situation where you could plug in. In that situation, the 40km of cheap gas-less travel wouldn’t make a very large difference. Next winter we will be driving to California and back, and staying in hotels. Our Prime will then be the same as a regular Prius, which is already pretty great.

But, suppose you had a situation where you rarely needed to put in more than 40km at a time. For somebody like that, having a Prime would mean almost total electric use, and therefore cheap driving.

That’s pretty much how we live. The exception is that I drive to the neighbouring town about 4 times a week. Getting there and back is about 50km. Each time I do, my poor car is forced to use a few swallows of gas on the return drive.

We’ve had the car for about two weeks now, and have used about 1/16th of a tank of gas. At that rate, it should be 8 months before needing a fill up.

We could have bought a straight electric car, and avoided even that tiny gas usage, but then we wouldn’t be able to drive to California. We seem to have the best of both worlds; the economy of electric and the range of gasoline.

I suppose 80km in a true electric car would cost me about $1.50.

Legs

Today will be my first Vancouver Jiu-Jitsu class that is focused on Leg Locks.

I have attended about 180 classes in Los Angeles, a half dozen Gracie seminars, and about 30 more classes in Arizona and Palm Springs. None has addressed Leg Locks, except an hour or two section of a Rener Gracie seminar once.

I am no rookie to the subject, having covered the prescribed curriculum at home on the subject many times. I am, however, not confident in the topic.

I can handle any leg attacks that my local friends try on me, and haven’t run into much of such technique when travelling. I don’t try and execute these attacks much, as they certainly are not something natural for me.

And now in Vancouver they are just starting several months of non-stop Leg work.

It will do me a world of good.

The instructor there, Marc Marins, was a world-class competitor, and is as knowledgeable as instructors come. I cannot help but come away with a fundamentally changed Leg game, both offensively and defensively.

Part of both my hesitancy and fascination with Leg Locks is because of how incredibly dangerous they are. Many schools don’t teach them at all.

Students who learn the attacks are normally quite comfortable already with chokes, arm bars, and shoulder attacks. Applying a toe hold, or leg lock, knee attack, or heal hook with the same level tension can do major damage.

Students are also used to defending against upper body attacks, and have it ingrained to tap when the discomfort reaches a certain point.

With legs, that is far too late. The damage comes well before anything has started to hurt.

It is only safe when the attacker doesn’t really apply at all, and the defender is willing to tap super early.

Let’s say you get a heal hook on me. You shouldn’t do more than get your arms into position, and not apply at all, and I should immediately tap. I should then say that I want to try an escape, and you let me try while you attempt and maintain your position, but still not apply at all. During that whole exercise we should both accept that should you yank on my foot, my entire knee would disassemble most horribly.

What often happens instead is the heal hook is in place, and some pressure is put into it. Damage starts to occur, and the defender tries to escape, as it doesn’t really hurt yet, so the attacker increases pressure, and boom.....the knee collapses. Both attacker and defender are surprised, shocked and horrified.

It should all be taught under a highly-qualified instructor. At home, Shawn Phillips clearly outlines the danger and insists on safety first. Marc in Vancouver will likely take us deeper down into the rabbit hole, but in an equally safe manner.

I fully expect to come away fundamentally changed as a Jiu-Jitsu player.

As recently as two months ago, I foolishly thought I was pretty competent in Back Mount. Then came a few weeks of mat work at Gracie University in LA all focused on Back, followed by a month-and-a-half on the topic in Vancouver. My big discovery was that, while I knew the vast majority of the technique, I didn’t a have a clue as to what to do with it, either offensively or defensively.

I got rebuilt. Take my back now, and you’d better be good or you won’t have it long. If I get your back, you’d better know how to defend, or you will be promptly forced to tap.

I fully expect that my Leg game will change to something similar.

My Teachers

I have been extremely lucky both in Karate and in Jiu-Jitsu.

Having a good instructor is incredibly important. I have had such people arise at critical points during my journey.

I started out with a Karate instructor who skipped town over the Christmas vacation. I’d only been training for a few months, and it could have meant the end of the road.

Luckily, the local college found us a replacement in the neighbouring town. He drove for an hour to get to us in our little town of Fort Saint John, and an hour getting home again. He did this for years; never once complaining. He taught us well, in a caring fashion, and with infectious enthusiasm. He was my first great teacher. His name is Perry Foster.

The big instructor for our province back then was Yasuo Sakurai. We hosted him up north many times. After Helen and I moved south to Sechelt, I continued to train with Sakurai Sensei as much as possible. He was the second of my great teachers. His depth of knowledge is remarkable, and he is always striving to be a better and more flexible instructor. He is perhaps the most courteous person I have ever known.

After many years, my knees told me that continuing in Karate would not be a good idea, and I hung up my belt. I tried Jiu-Jitsu. Remarkably, my body liked it just fine.

The man who teaches at our local Jiu-Jitsu school became my third great instructor. He teaches in a very step-by-step manner, and is always thinking about his students’ welfare.

An example is how he handles my promotions. He knows I feel the pressure of time, being as old as I am. He accepts that I keep honest tallies of the attendance required for promotion. I don’t get kept waiting around once the minimum time requirement is satisfied. Many instructors insist on delaying so that their students never know when their next level will arrive. I suppose this feeds their ego somehow. Shawn Phillips seems happy to have the requirements clearly set out, and lets us fulfill them with hard work, which really should be the goal.

The latest of my great instructors, is a man I’ve only been working with for about a year and a half. Compared to my time as a student of Perry Foster (about ten years), Yasuo Sakurai (thirty years), and of Shawn Phillips (seven years), our association has been very brief. Marc Marins is a quiet and inspiring teacher. As I travel all day to attend his classes, he has refused to let me pay, which in turn has me  showing up in time to help out with the beginners class to pay him back somehow. He paid me forward, so that I pay him back. I say “pay him back,” but Marc gets nothing from me helping out. Rather, his other students do, with an extra tutor.

None of this is meant to indicate displeasure at many other excellent teachers I have knows. Rener Gracie, Chris Davis, Ryron Gracie, Andy Holmes, and Alex Stewart all spring to mind. The difference is, they have not become “my” instructors. It is fortunate to ever find one person to fill this role. More is a huge plus.

I seem to have four.

So far.

Know Something?

I hate people who join a discipline and think they know more than  they do.

It happens all the time in martial arts. Stupidly, everybody seems to think they know something about fighting.

Usually they don’t.

Let’s assume somebody shows up who actually knows something. Let’s make them somebody who has been a member of a boxing gym for a year or so. He certainly should be able to hit, and to block, and to move in a boxing context.

He knows nothing about fighting, and less than nothing about Jiu-Jitsu.

Let’s say he shows up on open mat night, and wants to spar with somebody. Let’s say that they find a willing partner who doesn’t even mind if boxing-boy wants to start standing, and allowing punches.

Boxer moves forward, but the finds he isn’t getting any closer. Boxers shuffle, and it’s easy to stay well outside of their striking range, at least for a while. A while is all it would take.

Jiu-Jitsu people understand the danger, and will move from far-and-safe to a tight clinch in a blitz. Don’t believe me? Watch any of the first half dozen UFC events; back before everybody turned into experts in striking, kicking, and grappling.

I dare you to show me a single instance of a high-level striker being able to stop or injure a grappler blitzing in. The evidence all says that our boxing friend will find himself either clinched, or double-legged straight to the ground.

Let’s say the grappler establishes a clinch, which means our boxer is still relatively safe and on his feet.

As he knows nothing about grappling, how long do you think he’ll be able to stay upright? It will be measured in seconds.

So now the fight is on the ground, likely with the grappler on top. What comes next? The boxer tries to escape, of course. Will he succeed in making up something on the spot that the Jiu-Jitsu person hasn’t practiced handling a thousand times?

This is where the lack of skill really shows. He will try futilely to escape, and will be totally exhausted in very short order, and this will be followed by a submission. He might just be too stupid to give up to a joint lock, and might get hurt, but maybe it will be a choke and he’ll quietly take a little nap.

In the early days after Gracie Jiu-Jitsu’s arrival in the USA there were a great many challenge matches. A cash prize was offered to anybody who could beat the Jiu-Jitsu representative, and the bouts filmed. The money never had to be paid.

Dozens of these fights are available on Youtube now. They are almost monotonous in how they go. I have perfectly described them all in my boxer example.

Sometimes they were boxers, or Karate people, or body builders, or wrestlers, or street fighters. It didn’t matter.

Remarkably, the fights were so short, and shocking to the loser that they wanted to try again. Usually the second attempts end faster than the first as the Jiu-Jitsu person learned what to expect from that first exchange.

That was all pretty much settled a very long time ago. Want to see an incredibly clear example of this?

Look up “James Toney vs Randy Couture” on Youtube. This fight happened in 2010 between a former World Champion Boxer and a former UFC Champion. At that time, the UFC had been in operation for 17 years, and you’d have thought Toney would have shown up better prepared.

Couture was cautious, and took his time. The takedown happened about 20 seconds into the bout, and the submission about halfway through the first round.

I find it a hoot that people claim that Toney was too old at the time of the match. He was 42 at the time, but they ignore that Couture was 47.

So what has the boxer in the example done? He has not only shown that he doesn’t know how to fight, but also that he doesn’t know how fighting should even be done.

But what if he were instead somebody who wrestled in high school? It wouldn’t matter, although the story would have gone differently.

Likely the wrestler would have been the one to have caused the takedown, after which he would have been wrapped up in the guard. Wrestlers don’t study or train in the guard, as it puts your back on the mat which means instant defeat in that sport. They also don’t train in any submissions, or in how to defend them.

Watch “Royce Gracie vs Dan Severn.” Severn was a world-class wrestler who outweighed Gracie by almost a hundred pounds. The match had no time limit, and went 16 minutes. Severn got caught in a choke and had to tap.

So if you show up at a Jiu-Jitsu class thinking you know anything, you are wrong. I showed up with a Black Belt in Shotokan Karate, and experience as a wrestling coach, and yet kept my mouth shut it.

Some skills did transfer, but not the ones that you might have thought.

Karate sparring is full of lightning blitzes, both in and out. Although not exactly as it is done in grappling, this movement was already second nature to me.

Wrestlers, like all grapplers, are comfortable with rolling around on the mat.

Both disciplines require comfort and relaxation during combat-like training, and I had this down pat, too.

Other than that, there wasn’t much that was directly applicable. I remember how exciting to work the first armbars I’d ever done, and triangle chokes were like voodoo.

In our little group, there are four people who hold Black Belts in other arts, and yet we all put on White Belts again when we started Jiu-Jitsu. We did this both literally and figuratively. The actual belts we started over with were white in colour, and we also accepted that we were fresh students who knew nothing and needed to be taught.

Does a tennis player think he knows how to play baseball?

Does being a basketball player get you ready to join the NFL?

Magic

There is no magic in martial arts.

None.

It can certainly seem that way, what with all the charlatans that claim otherwise.

Once the air gets cleared of all of the death touch stuff, and levitation, it can still seem that there is magic.

But there is not.

It is all physics, and human behaviour.

In 1993, Royce Gracie used Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu to win a tournament of 16 trained martial artists, all of whom were significantly larger than he was, and went on to repeat his victory several more times. At the time, it seemed like witchcraft, but it wasn’t.

It was physics and human behaviour.

You have to understand the physics involved in how a human body can move, and of the leverage involved with all the bones, tendons and muscles.

The human behaviour aspect is even harder. You have to understand how a typical, unskilled opponent will react in a combat situation, and have answers for all of these possible reactions. That is the base. Beyond that, you have to understand the most typical reactions of people who have different combat-related skill sets. What would a wrestler likely do if a certain behaviour is used by the Jiu-Jitsu person, and how can that be countered? What if instead of that reaction, they instead do another likely move?

Above that, in Jiu-Jitsu, we learn how to defeat each other at increasing levels of proficiency.

I have been a student of Jiu-Jitsu for 7 years, and every so often get taught a move that seems like wizardry to me, but it never is. There is no talk of energy, or chi; it is all about how to line up your bones, and how to use leverage to maximum effect, and to get your opponent to react in a way that seems correct to them, but is actually a step towards defeat.

Try doing that with somebody trained in the art, who is trying to do it right back to you.

No magic.

If anything; the magic is more like science.

The moves are answers to particular problems, and the answer is never to out muscle your opponent. If you find a solution that requires power, it means you have to start over. Jiu-Jitsu is designed with the assumption that your opponent will be bigger and stronger than you. That way it works for everybody, and if you are lucky enough to be stronger than your opponent, you will be able to beat them while using so little energy that your heart rate won’t elevate at all.

It also means that you can do it all while being perfectly gentle with your opponent.

Science that could be mistaken for magic?

Our new car tells me when I’m driving badly, and in a pinch will slam on the brakes to save my sorry ass. It parks itself, and knows the way to every address in North America, and where every Starbucks is. That’s certainly like magic.

But it’s not really sorcery at all.