Nationals: - (cont.)
I do my very best to support my team. Five Rings and the Ribeiro association have become a family beyond my family. I get to see Coach Tom and Professor Saulo compete live for the first time and I am really excited to do so. I admire both of these men to a great degree and strive to pattern my new self after their example in many ways. It is an interesting role reversal to help my coach prepare for his matches. The atmosphere is different than at the local tournaments that I’ve been to so far; there is intensity in the air that is almost tangible. I sit with Robert and Jerico, surrounded by Ribeiro teammates from all along the West Coast.
The day meanders along, spiked by exciting high-profile matches; Caio Terra and Michael Liera Jr. put on a clinic in their divisions. The black belt divisions are supremely technical. I realize that I’ve become a bit of a jiu jitsu geek as I analyze each match. I watch as Coach Tom demonstrates a ton of technical skill and tenacity in his matches, only to fall to an opportunistic opponent who seems to have Coach’s number at tournaments. Oddly, my esteem isn’t diminished in the slightest. If anything, I find his grace and humility in defeat admirable and inspiring. I know for a fact that he’s going to take this experience and use it as fuel for his next competition.
Saulo’s matches draw a ton of attention, as one might expect for a world champion. He wins his divisions handily, demonstrating amazing technique and power along the way. I am awed to see jiu jitsu at this level first hand. There is simply no hesitation in the man. This is the result of an unshakable confidence in his ability to find a way to win. I vow to try to do the same in my matches.
(…fast forward to the next day…)
It’s Sunday. Time for the whites and blues to show what they can do. Yep, that means me. I’m anxious, but confident that my coaches have prepared me well for success. All I can do at this point is give my best effort. My one concern is that due to my intense training (some folks might even say ‘over’ training) I’ve continued to lose weight. This means that even though when I registered for this event I was near the top of the middleweight class, I am now much closer to the bottom; I currently weigh 171 pounds. Ultimately, I remember that jiu jitsu is about technique and applied strength, not just how much you weigh. I hear my division being called so I go prepare myself for the coming battles.
My first match is against a guy named Troy from the Inland Empire. Yeah, I have to admit that I did some internet research on my opponents once they posted the brackets online. Not that it gave me any idea of who I am really up against, I found some comfort in making the effort if that makes any sense at all. As I step out onto the mat I look over to the stands where my sons and brothers-in-law sit. They made it! I am really excited to show them what I’ve learned.
My ears are ringing with Coach Tom’s advice: “Impose your will, Dan. You know what you’ve trained. Be aggressive and get into your game.” Okay. Let’s see how this goes. We touch hands. I slide into classic guard smoothly. Pressure through the heel. Post other heel on the bicep. Adjust. Adjust. Feel his arm shift forward. Wham! I throw my leg over his face and lock in the armbar. Tap. 35 seconds to achieve victory. Wow! That felt really, really good. Arm raised, big smile. Cheers and hugs. Time to get back to business. Next match is minutes away.
Steve is incredibly strong. He bulls me around the mat, tossing me like a rag doll. It is all I can do to stay on my feet! Fortunately for me, there isn’t much purpose to his aggression. After the third time he drives me to my knees, I get smart. I use his momentum to slide into my favorite guard position and lock on the armbar. He’s having none of that, however. His strength again comes into play, along with poor positioning on my part. I can’t finish the armbar, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I grind his elbow into my groin, doing much more significant damage to myself than to him. He decides that a solid defense tactic to make me loosen the armbar is to hoof me in the face. The ref misses it, but I don’t let go. Minutes pass until it finally occurs to me to transition to a triangle choke. The shift in position distracts him long enough to allow me to pull his arm across to my opposite thigh and finish him with a differently leveraged armbar. Same result as the first match: submission by armbar. However, I have gassed myself hardcore. My forearms burn worse than I’ve ever experienced in my life and I can barely walk due to the damage I’ve caused my ‘family jewels’ by persisting in my original, poorly placed armbar attempt.
The finals await. This is the National tournament and I’ve made the finals! One more opponent to go and I can bring home the gold medal to Five Rings. I look Coach Tom in the eye and ask him to tell me that I deserve this, that I’ve worked hard for it, and not to settle for silver. He does more than comply, pumping me up and reminding me to work my game. I stride to the center of the mat, ready to give it my best.
I had the luxury of watching Seton’s matches. He won both of his previous matches by Ezekiel choke from mount. Unfortunately, he had the same luxury with me. He is painfully aware that sliding guard and attacking with an armbar is my ‘A’ game. We touch hands, I slide guard and he lowers his center of gravity. This makes it incredibly hard to get to my pitstop and apply any submissions. It does, however, open him up to a sweep I’ve worked on. I use my cross collar grip to drive into him as I move my sleeve grip to his outside knee. He collapses onto his back as I come up into his half guard. Two points for me. I work to drive my leg across his locked in half guard and move to full mount, but in the process I allow him to underhook my nearside leg. He uses this leverage to escape, regain his feet, and start attacking my back. Desperately, I grab his ankle and drive into it. This forces him back to a north/south position. Here we remain for what seems like an eternity. I am locked underneath his weight, scooting him around the mat until we finally drive out of bounds. There is a little over a minute and a half left in the match. We meet again in the middle of that mat, touch hands, and I slide guard yet again. We fall out of bounds and the referee resets us once more. Forty seconds left. I’m still up by two points. I am completely and utterly exhausted. I try to throw my leg over for a triangle attempt, but Seton tilts his shoulders and passes my guard with relative ease. I struggle mightily to keep him at bay, but he is able to lock in a modified bow and arrow and I am done for. Twenty seconds is the difference between gold and silver on this day.
As I leave the mat, Coach gives me a look that indicates he believes that I could have and should have won the match, but it is quickly replaced by one of pride and he and my teammates give me highfives. Some old friends, the Golds, have also come to watch. I used to tutor and babysit for them when I first moved to California. Jordan, Danny, and Zach have gotten so big! Jordan is a blue belt in his own right, but he didn’t compete in this tournament. It is most excellent to see them.
Everything else falls to the periphery as I catch sight of my sons. The look in their eyes as they run up to congratulate me almost drives me to my knees. My breath catches in my throat as I see the pride radiating from them. They nearly crush me with their hugs and I am so happy that I am able to share this moment with them. Briefly, time stops… and we are a family again. I coached their Little League teams for years and encouraged them through their brief stints in wrestling clubs, but they never got a chance to see their Dad as a competitor. A healthy man who could set an example and be an athletic role model. Maybe it is too little, too late. But I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Except maybe more of them.
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