Dipping My Toes in the Waters of Grappling Sports

I’m a bit of a walking contradiction when it comes to my MMA fandom. On the one hand, my favorite fighters (with a couple of exceptions) are strikers who aren’t known to go for takedowns. I get super hyped watching a fighter point to the center of the octagon, Max Holloway style, and roll my eyes any time I see a grappling specialist enter the cage. At the same time, I find myself complaining when the fight goes to the ground and the boos immediately start to rain down from the audience. I climb up on my high horse and snobbishly declare the majority of MMA fans uneducated in the study of *mixed* martial arts. This, of course, isn’t true; I am just a nerd who oftentimes enjoys listening to Joe Rogan and the other commentators break down strategy as much as the fight itself. And honestly, even though I’ve dipped my toes in the waters of grappling sports, I know relatively little about how they integrate into MMA.  In my inaugural piece of writing for The Casual Combatants, I detailed how I explored various forms of striking until I discovered Muay Thai. In this piece, I’ve decided to document my journey through the world of grappling arts. It is a short list, and it is exhaustive. 

Experience #1: High School Wrestling

 My older brother was a decent wrestler in high school, so when I started my freshman year, I decided to follow in his footsteps. The assistant coach, who had been my brother’s teammate, was happy to find out who I was.

“Your brother used to kick my ass!” he told me on my first day. “I expect big things from you!”

I can only imagine the disappointment he must have soon felt when it became evident that I would not be meeting his expectations. I was pretty terrible. By chance, the only person on the team worse than me was in the same weight class. So, despite my lack of skill, every week we’d wrestle off and I would earn a spot in the dual meet, only to get destroyed by whoever lined up in front of me. I never bothered to learn any technique, relying purely on my strength to outmuscle my opponents. The problem with this strategy is that I also had no muscle. I don’t think I ever even lost on points (though I may have made it out of the first round a time or two before getting pinned, if I remember correctly).

For most, this would be the part of their story where they come to a crossroads and decide to either give up or use a newfound determination to succeed. I didn’t do either of those things, instead opting to just go with the flow and hang out with the friends I had made on the team. There were a few weeks left in the season, and I was at one of our final dual meets. I polished off some McDonald’s (never had it even occurred to me to cut weight so I could wrestle smaller guys) before making my way to the mat to do my thing. In front of me stood a beefy kid with a crazed look in his eyes, staring me down while he grunted and slapped his thighs to psyche himself up. This dude’s gotta be on steroids, I thought, wondering where a fifteen-year-old would get steroids and having no clue how a person on steroids looked. I had always half-accepted defeat before stepping onto the mat, but I never had any fear or felt any sort of intimidation. But in this moment, I felt nervous. This guy was going to hurt me.  What happened next is a blur. I only remember being on top of him and him not fighting back. He had completely given up and lay flat on his back, worn out by all the grunting and minor flagellation. Afraid that any movement on my part would give him a chance to shift my weight if he suddenly decided to fight back, I also lay still, my chest on his, my arms sticking out awkwardly in a Superman-like pose, rather than holding onto him. The ref slammed his hand on the mat and I stood up, the victor. I did the customary hand-raise and exchanged shakes before walking off to pats on the back from my teammates. My coach kind of scratched his head and told me good job (it almost sounded more like a question), but recommended that next time I use my arms to secure the pin.

His advice would not be necessary. I decided I was going to end my career while I was at the top of my game and ride that victory off into the sunset. I didn’t return to practice for the rest of the season, or the rest of high school. As far as I know, the team was able to survive without me. 

Experience #2: Getting Choked Out by a UFC Fighter

A couple of years ago, my mom’s health was declining, and I was taking more trips to my hometown of Wilmington, North Carolina. I’d usually take my gym gear and sneak off for a couple of kickboxing classes at the local mall, which is home to an MMA gym owned by former #4-ranked UFC middleweight Derek Brunson. One week that I was home, I decided on a whim to drop into a no-gi BJJ class–primarily for a workout, but also out of curiosity. I had taken a trial BJJ class at my previous gym, during which the instructor never talked to me, and my partner told me to  “just try to imitate what UFC fighters do when they’re on the ground.” With this prior experience in mind, I wasn’t expecting much. However, I was pleasantly surprised when not only did “Blonde Brunson” teach the class himself, but he spent the majority of his time with me and another beginner, walking us through basic positions and drilling with us. This guy has shared the octagon with legends like Yoel Romero, Izzy Adesanya, Robert Whittaker, and Anderson Silva, and holds wins over the likes of Kevin Holland, Darren Till, and Lyoto Machida. He was getting ready to go into camp to prepare for what would be his last UFC fight against current champion Dricus Du Plessis, yet here he was showing me a triangle choke. My train of thought was cut short as my vision started to fade to black, and I remembered I needed to tap. I ended up having a great experience with the class. Brunson’s willingness to leave his fighters and work with complete beginners showed both his genuine kindness and his enthusiasm for promoting the sport he loves. He did a great job selling it, even if it wasn’t enough for me to continue when I got back to my home in Virginia. 

Experience #3: Judo

My final and most recent foray into the grappling arts was a brief stint as a member of my local Judo club. For me, Judo bridges the gap between tradition and practicality that can often seem at odds in martial arts. This is a nuanced subject, but for the current writing, I’m going to paint with an extremely broad stroke and say that while I quite enjoy reading the history and studying the philosophical and spiritual sides of traditional East Asian martial arts, I’m one of the many who view them as overwhelmingly impractical in terms of actual combat. Judo, however,  was formed as an offshoot of Japanese Jujutsu to emphasize randori, or live sparring, as opposed to kata, or memorized forms. As some practitioners of Jujutsu veered off towards what would eventually become Aikido or Wadō-ryū Karate, Jigoro Kano was teaching policemen to neutralize criminals and creating a future Olympic sport. While Judo is not the most represented martial art in MMA, it’s not uncommon to see elements used in matches by high-level fighters. And of course, we’ve seen the massive success of Olympic judokas Rhonda Rousey and Kayla Harrison. So, in short, Judo “works” in real combat to at least some extent. However, due to its roots in traditional Japanese Jujutsu, it still focuses quite a bit on tradition, respect, balance, and other philosophical principles that I enjoy learning about and putting into practice. Combine this with the fact that the club was cheap and consisted of mostly older people who didn’t compete and never went hard in randori, and it was perfect for me. I went for a few months, read quite a bit of literature, and got promoted to Gokyū (green belt). Then, like high school wrestling, I decided to end my career on a high note and didn’t go back to the dojo. The situation was a little different this time; it had more to do with scheduling, nagging injuries from Muay Thai, and complaints from my wife about the previous two points. In reality, I had just decided to take some time off and planned to return, but I still have yet to make it back. 

Conclusion

Perhaps as my kids get older and I have more time to myself, I’ll return to Judo or give BJJ a proper go. But for now, I’ll continue to watch respectfully, content to brag about having pinned a [definitely not] roided-up teenager 20 years ago. 

Recommended reading:

Kano, J. (2013). Kodokan Judo: The Essential Guide to Judo by its founder Jigoro Kano. Kodansha.