Tournament (cont.) –
Respect is a concept that has always been a struggle for me. I was told from a young age that I needed to respect my elders, well, just because I was supposed to. My adolescent brain struggled with the concept of ‘earned’ respect because I saw a lot of contradictions in my life – some people seemed to get respect for no obvious reason, while others who worked hard and had integrity didn’t get as much as I thought they should. Over time, the concept became clearer for me as it pertained to others, but I still had difficulty when it came to applying it to me.
As I step on the mat something becomes crystal clear to me. This guy facing me has no reason to respect me. We’ve never met. He has no idea what I’ve been through or how hard I’ve trained. If I want his respect I am going to have to take it from him. I have to show him – right here, right now – that if he wants this victory it will be by going through my best effort. And so it begins…
He pulls guard immediately and begins to attack. I feel the adrenaline pump through my veins as I establish posture and try to open his defenses. I block an armbar attempt, a triangle, an omaplata… man, he has a strong bottom game. I finally get his guard opened and sprawl on the nearside leg. Quick bounce, fast feet, and I get the pass. I work directly into the only real submission I know at this point: a claw choke that we’ve practiced over the last couple of weeks. My technique is solid right up until the finishing point, but I can’t close the deal. I hear him gurgle a tad, but it just isn’t enough.
My heart and mind are racing. My breath comes in deep pulls, desperately trying to get more oxygen to my lungs. He escapes and recovers guard. Back and forth we go until he sinks in a triangle attempt. I recognize it early and my body takes over – stack, posture up, rotate. I crash down and smash pass into mount. Now I’ve got him! I start to attack his lapels and before I know it I am the one on my back. I got cocky and now I’m defending from the bottom. There is a pause in the action as we both take stock of our new positions and try to muster some energy.
My coach, Aaron, gives words of encouragement. “Breathe, Dan! Relax. You’re doing great!” I think I’ve spoken to Aaron once before this match, but he is a higher belt and really knows jiu jitsu. His presence bolsters my flagging reserves and I prepare to defend myself. My opponent tries to stand up in guard against me, so I grab his ankle and sweep him to mount! Six points! I am well ahead at this time, but I don’t dare slack off. I have no idea how much time has gone by. It feels like an eternity. My lungs are burning. My forearms ache from overgripping. Suddenly, it’s over. Time is called. My first five minutes of competition have passed.
Victory is sweet, but even more valued is that elusive sense of respect. From my opponent, from my teammates and coaches, and from myself. I earned this! I realize, too, that my respect for my adversary is great and I congratulate him on a hard fought match. My elation at winning is short lived, as my coach informs me that I have only a short time before I must test my will once more. My aches and pains and fatigue come full bore to the forefront of my consciousness.
Again? Okay. Here we go. One more time.
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