Chapter 8

21 Oct

Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Part 3: Mass Conversion

The tournament had passed, and I was halfway to orange belt. It would be an accurate statement to say I was excited. My excitement could not be contained in the class itself, and more often than not spilt into the streets.

A separate friend of mine, my same age and normal sized, had heard I started some kind of “kung fu thing” and wanted to spar. I go over to his house to find not only him, but many others. Some were my friends, some were his, some were mutual friends. I spar him, and tap him quickly with a triangle choke. All of the people there then proceed to freak out, because they thought that A) The triangle choke didn’t look like a choke, B) BJJ stood for blow job jews, C) it was worthless, and D) they could beat me. I sparred them all, and won each time; one time I sparred a guy and his little brother at the same time (I put one in my guard, then managed to shoulder lock the other while squeezing the guts out of the original). After that we played some tekken, and everybody went home.

The next BJJ class was outrageous; almost everyone from the sparring session had shown up. I felt proud that I had enlightened some onto the awesomeness that was BJJ, and excited to soon have my own platoon of whitebelts below me. Unfortunately for them, they had shown up during the advanced kids class, and had to watch instead of participate. The advanced kids class consisted of myself, the friend who was 2 years older than I (henceforth reffered to as Napoleon), an indian kid (I will refer to him as Curry), and a small fat kid with glasses who looked remarkably like Harry Potter.

We practice moves, and finally it’s time for sparring. First up is Napoleon with the instructor; instructor pulls guard, Napoleon tries to pass it for 3 minutes, nothing exciting. I’m paired with Curry.

Curry is a tall, lanky boy who happens to have a green belt with two stripes. I’m a little anxious since I’m only a yellowbelt, but I go out fearlessly. We begin on the knees, and I pull guard. I fail an armbar, and he hops to sidemount, then mount. Without wasting any time, he goes for the standard “grab each collar and pull” choke. I go for the Trap n’ Roll, but it won’t work. He doesn’t give way like the instructor does when I sparred against him. I try again; nothing. I pull both his wrists away from my neck, and try Trap n’ rolling to the other side; no luck. This continues for the rest of the match, and we’re both tired. His forearms are tired from trying to pull, and my arms are tired from stopping his choke. We both stand up, and the instructor politely informs us that he would’ve won had that been a real match. Thanks.

My friends are hooting and laughing that I just lost. I will have to hurt them later.

I was actually okay with the entire ordeal. I learned that the Trap N Roll doesn’t work, and that green belt guy was pretty good.

My friends sign up and are going to start in the beginner kids. I can’t wait till they reach my class, so I can rape them for their taunts.

The next advance class I show up about 15 minutes early, and walk in the school. It is vacant, so being the investigative person I am, I adventure into his office area. I walk in to see him thumbing through a book with a picture of people doing jiu jitsu on it. He’s mumbling to himself, but I can’t hear him. I don’t want to interrupt him, so I run into the mat room and start doing cartwheels for the hell of it. He hurredly scurries out and greets me.

“Let me get changed into my gi and then we’ll start.”

“Cool.”

He walks into the bathroom and starts to change. I, on the other hand, sneak into his office. His book is face down, so that his place is saved. The page is one detailing how to perform what’s called “Air Brazil”, or an armbar from a monkey flip. The technique is someone stands in your guard, you put both of your feet on their stomach while holding on to their wrist. You airplane them into the air. Now, using one foot and your hands, spin them, and let them fall into an armbar.

I leave the room as I hear a toilet flush.

Minutes later Curry and Harry potter show up.

“Alright, this move is one that I learned back when I trained with Caique.”

If you couldn’t guess, he showed us the armbar from the feet on the stomach thing. I didn’t know if this was coincidence or not, but I didn’t like it.

The class finishes uneventfully, and next class I show up on time. The instructor is on the phone, and I motion I’m going to use the bathroom. He gives me the thumbs up.

I pee, then I sneak into his office again. I look at the book, and see omoplata from failed armbar.

That class we do omoplata from failed arm bar.

I’m thinking about confronting him on the matter, when he surprises me by saying I can go to the beginner adult.

I cease to care about why he needs to read the book to know what technique to teach, and am glad to join the ranks of real manly men.

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