Blogging ain’t easy, or at least it’s been far too easy to
put off, I’ve succumbed to writers block for over six months which I’m going to
put down as a side effect from all the wrist locks Ed Ingamells slams on at the
gym.
So a funny thing has happened since my last blog, I’ve been
winning (fairly consistently). I became a British Champion in the masters
division, won the fabled Kleos Warhammer (which I take to dinner parties) and I
became an endorsed athlete for Meerkatsu, which is fantastic as I was wearing
all the gear already.
So why is it harder to write about winning? I think the
trials and tribulations of a tournament, all the little quirks and anecdotes
that come from competing are more interesting that a collection of medals.
Not that I don’t love medals, but my knowledge and understanding of Jiu Jitsu
still isn’t on the level that I can provide a detailed technical analysis of my
performance while maintaining a modicum of interest.
So.... Crystal Palace, as a north Londoner, it may as well
be on the moon. If venturing to London Bridge is a challenge and going past
Brixton unheard of, then the idea of trudging down to Crystal Palace strikes
terror into the average north Londoner. There’s almost always engineering works
to ruin your journey and if you’re travelling by car you may as well go to
Birmingham.
I’ve described the European championships as a festival of
Jiu Jitsu, almost like Glastonbury, if so then IBJJF London is more like V
Festival or Wireless. The atmosphere isn’t as special, the corporate stench is
undeniable and it doesn’t seem to attract the big names. It’s a long time since
I’ve been to V, yet I once again make the journey to the London Open as despite
my complaints and the ridiculous entry fees it is still a high level comp happening
on my doorstep.
Saturday brings the Gi competition, everyone looks slightly brighter
than normal, presumably bringing out their newest gis to avoid the gaze of the overzealous
gi checkers. My team had been primarily training for the nogi so I see fewer
familiar faces, those that are here are our battle hardened competitors that
seem to have less rest days and more silver wear than I do.
I don’t remember much about my first match, I hadn’t warmed
up properly and felt stiff and slow both physically and mentally but ended up
with some combination of points which gave me the win. By the second match I was a lot more relaxed
and managed to lure my opponent into my guard to secure a triangle.
There was a little minor controversy in the final when my
opponent came up for a sweep, I was able to defend grabbing a single leg which
allowed me to return him to the ground for which I was awarded two points. My
opponents corner went crazy, shouting that it shouldn’t warrant takedown
points, I’m inclined to agree but given I cannot speak to the ref or want to interrupt
the flow of the match I kept quiet and focused. I didn’t want to leave anything to chance and avoid any
appeals so continued to work my way to the mount and secure an arm bar.
It was getting pretty late by the time of the absolute, the
hall was beginning to empty and several of my team had gone home to rest for
the next day. The brackets had put me in with all the heavy guys leaving one ultra-heavyweight
to steam roll his way through a field of lightweights.
My first match was against the heavy champion who rather
than muscle me around the mat confused the hell out of me by pulling deep half
guard. I managed to block his sweep attempt and pull my foot out to pass the
guard, I was braced against the coming storm that occurs whenever a heavy
weight is about to concede points. Regardless of how technical they are when
they know they’re just a 3 count away from a pass they hulk out and try and
launch you overhead with a massive bench-press. Having survived this I switched
to knee on belly, my opponent seemed desperate to come up, so I slid my arm
under his throat as he did so allowing him to come up into a patented Deathatine
(all rights reserved APE industries). While guillotines aren’t strictly ‘gi
moves’, I figure if it’s there, it’s there.
Next up was the super-heavy champion who I needed to beat to
meet the ultra-heavy guy in the final (I was really questioning my life
decisions at this point). There was quite a bit of back and forth with me
sweeping and him looking to come back on top, I eventually managed to flatten
him out in half guard working a tight crossface but unable to release my foot.
I kept him there for what felt like two minutes, fighting the whole time to
release my encumbered appendage to no avail.
With 40 seconds remaining I gave him a glimmer of space and
looked to retreat backwards towards open guard, but I stopped halfway looking
to knee slice through his freshly recovered guard. But my technique abandoned me
and he rose up from the ground using all the strength his 100kg frame would
allow lifting me up high and planting me through the canvas for a last second
sweep. I scrambled to prevent the pass coming to a rest in half guard as the
whistle blew. Sadly the advantages went in his favour and I’d blown it in the
final seconds.
I then proceeded to watch the final as my conqueror faced
off with the ultra-heavyweight beast. I witnessed my tormentor brought low by
the weight of the rotund (but surprisingly athletic) colossus. I thought as to
my game plan for facing such a man, how to avoid his death grips and overcome,
but I would have to wait to step onto the mat as I put this to the
test on Day Two of the London Open...
