Asking for the Boston Crab, and Other Bad Jiu-Jitsu Ideas

My father once drove past a karate studio, outside they had hung a banner which read, “Black belt guaranteed!” Black belt most certainly not guaranteed in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ). The average time to become a black belt seems to be thirteen to fifteen years for the average hobbyist, but life and injury often intervene.

And injuries you shall have, might as well make peace with the possibility of a torn MCL or ACL sometime in your future. The injuries start small: the gi burn from team mates’ jackets abrading your face, the constellation of bruises on your shins, the visibly swollen finger joints from gripping a collar, sleeve or pantleg too tightly.

One day in class Coach will ask for a volunteer with ‘good shoulders’ to demonstrate a kimura on and you’ll struggle to remember what that’s like. At least I’ve never had to drain cauliflower ear with a large gauge needle — fingers crossed that continues to be the case.

Outside of bona fide injuries there’s a lot of plain ole soreness — the wear to the tear. You’re always hunched in on yourself so it takes its toll on the thoracic, for example, and yet it’s nothing that prehab, stretching after class, and massage can’t fix.

But that’s all in the future. As a beginner you’ll have few challenges; your main tasks are learning to tie your belt, and maintain your balance rather than toppling over like a sack of potatoes.

You’ll also have to learn the lingo to describe the positions (open guard, closed guard, half-guard, side-control, mount and back-control) and various submissions (primarily, chokes and joint manipulations). Your final and most important challenge will be to keep a straight face when you hear the likes of ‘Just slide it in’, ‘More penetration!’ (for a double-leg takedown) and ‘Mount him!’

Jokes aside, what most surprised me about Jiu-Jitsu was how much full body contact it entails. These days I’m used to sliding my knee across hips to mount (instead of lifting my leg off) or grinding my shoulder into my training partner’s jaw to loosen them up enough to escape their half-guard. However, it did take some getting used to — both the meting out and being on the receiving end of that immense pressure.

To a degree, BJJ rewires your relationship with pain, one doesn’t tap to mere discomfort in a competition — unthinkable. You also grit through the pain for the sake of your training partner who needs to learn to put submissions on properly when you’re drilling in class.

The level of ‘aggressiveness’ and tenacity BJJ requires is something I’m still, pardon the pun, grappling with. There are aspects of the sport which are difficult mentally, requiring a high level of resilience; some classes have left me battered, bruised and momentarily demoralised, with little else to show for it.

Are there tangible off-the-mat benefits then? Has Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu “changed” me? Will it be enough to “save” me?

Will chiding those lower-ranked and rolling (sparring) too close to me translate into assertiveness in the workplace? I’m not so sure… although I did once rear naked choke my boss*.

Will Jiu-Jitsu enable me to defend myself to a sufficient degree from an attack in the real world, with the possibility of being surprised, struck and hitting a ‘mat’ most likely made of concrete? Or will it only prolong the inevitable? That's why when people ask me why I train BJJ I never say that it’s for self-defense, that would be disingenuous and a little depressing, and so I tell them the truth, ‘It’s simply for the fun of it’.

And such fun it is. Where else can you take friend’s arms to the verge of snapping in half, or choke them to the point of passing out? They’ll tap much sooner than that, of course. Therein lies the beauty of Jiu-Jitsu: the tap. The tap allows both people to go full throttle, each knowing their training partner has the physical and psychological assurance of safety at their fingertips.

Notice how often I’ve said ‘training partner’ and ‘team mate’ rather than opponent. Although many people have a tendency to only think of people wearing matching jerseys and passing a ball around as such, Jiu-Jitsu is very much a team sport.

There’s a high level of camaraderie on the mats. It’s not just your Coach you learn from, your team mates are invaluable also — you’ll teach them, and learn from them in kind; you’ll look out for one another and support each other. I’ve certainly found an off-the-mat friendship or two in my training partners.

Similarly, competitors from other gyms are not even remotely your ‘enemy’; it’s a lovely community. On that note, your competitors aren’t even your competition, truth be told. In a roll you may be trying to best the other guy or gal, but your ultimate goal is bettering yourself. The point of it all it is to be the best practitioner of the art that you can be; the only person you’re in competition with is past you.

Exercise, fun, friendship and self-defense skills are all well and good, but I only train BJJ for the fashion.

Team mates will fawn over your stylish new rash-guard, emblazoned with mythological beasts, or your vibrant blue pyjamas — er, gi, with its orange piping, sky-blue stitching and sown on junk food patches. And Boxer braids look pretty stylin'.

There are aspects of the sport decidedly less glamorous. In the heat of a roll, sweat trickles from your training partner’s brow, down the length off their nose, and hangs off the tip… before dropping into your eyes or parted mouth. It’s a traumatic rite of passage, you might as well stick it out to black belt now, ay?

Other more pleasant steps along your journey are learning your first submission (mine was the Americana — which you can find here). That sense of being imbued with ‘secret’ knowledge and a new found power — incredible! Pulling off your first sweep and reversing your position into a dominant one in a heady, exhilarating rush is also a defining moment. Then at some stage, Coach will award you the first stripe on your white belt, and thus you graduate from being sentient sack of potatoes.

After I’d received the first two stripes on my white belt (out of a possible four), I entered my first BJJ competition. After the first fight, I was astounded by the loss of all feeling and movement in my arms — massive amounts of adrenaline had caused the muscles in my forearms to tense up. (Interestingly enough, I still experience this every comp.)

That first competition was a bust, by the way, but an incredible learning experience. I haven’t competed at the blue belt level yet. I feel as if I’m still finding my bearings, and, to be honest, it’s a little daunting to once again be at the bottom of the heap.

Graduating to blue belt after a couple of years is a momentous occasion. However, the longer you train, the more acutely you’re aware of how little you actually know — the Dunning-Kruger effect in reverse. That’s the appeal for me, that there’s still so much left to discover, to refine, and to learn how to combine with other moves and apply in sparring.

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is often likened to (physical) chess and (involuntary) yoga. I’m working on it, that cerebral ‘chess’ aspect, but it feels like I’m not much of a thinker (yet) when it comes to grappling. I’m not sure I have much of a ‘game’ going on… but rest assured, people sure are pretzeling and contorting me. That’s Jiu-Jitsu in a nutshell by the way: the physicality of it, and the smartness: the baiting, the counter move, the counter to the counter to the counter move…

I might not be clever at it, but clever it is. The use of leverage and the principles of body mechanics. The times where a technique is about pitting your entire body’s strength against but a small muscle group of your opponent’s. However, speed and backing your moves with brute force (it’s a fight, after all) is also required. Technique is king, but there’s a reason for sex and weight categories in comps: strength, stamina and stones are still factors.

Aikido and Krav Maga held my interest for a year each; Capoeira (“sexy dance fighting”) for a couple of days, but I dare say I’ll be training BJJ well into my golden years. I’ve been at it for close to four years, and there are other signs of obsession (such as the mat I have in my lounge room).

I’m in it for the long haul, most definitely.

Lastly, what’s a Boston Crab, you ask? Rather than a crustacean from ‘New Yok’, it’s an exceptionally bad idea I once had: “Ooh, show it on me (and my bad back)! I wanna feel!” Instant, wholehearted regret. All of the pictures in the Wikipedia link are of WWE wrestlers, by the way, which amuses me to no end.

I hope I’ve inspired you to find your nearest pyjama folding gym, make some new friends… and choke them!

Footnote

*With my boss's consent, of course. I kept tightening the choke, mystified as to why he wasn’t tapping. And then quite suddenly, he was spluttering on the floor, on his hands and knees. Apparently he had thought a RNC (rear naked choke) would entail slowly running out of air “like in the movies”. However, it’s a carotid choke and cutting off blood flow to the brain has near immediate effects. “It was a life changing experience”, he told me later.

Angela Volkov is… refraining from demonstrating further chokes on upper management. Check out Sike! Psychology for World Domination for some pop psych fun.