A Realisation

It's been a while since I updated this blog, but here I am. I've been largely busy with trying to get into the GB Squad in fencing, which has been very challenging. I've been going to several competitions, trying to improve and do my best, and I've hardly been to NAF at all. After this last comp. that I've got back from, I've realised something about fencing.

Fencing isn't all about squads, or how good you are. It's about enjoying the sport, living each fight for the thrill of the moment, having a good time, and HAVING FUN. Ever since I started trying to get into the squad, none of these things were happening. I was panicking with each point, and more focused on doing well and earning points than enjoying myself. But since I realised that I get more pleasure from club fencing, that's what I'm going to do more of. You don't have to be in a squad to be told that you have potential, or that you can fence well. People around you can tell you that, and you will know that you can fence at some point. I think that after realising this, I'm going to stop trying to get into the squad, and just have a great time with my fencing. That's where the satisfaction lies.

Carry On Camping

Last week, I went away to the infamous Millfield fencing camp, and I returned yesterday, full with new ideas and activities. The week was arduous, but incredibly useful. I learnt many new warm up exercises, and games that actually use fencing technique and theory in them. Such things included stepping in time to the rhythm of a song, speeding up and slowing down accordingly, throwing a glove from behind someone, so that they have to lunge and catch it as soon as they see it, and also a dexterity exercise for the times when you feel your arm is going to fall off (which it frequently does, in a lesson). So, I may be able to use some of this newly acquired knowledge in future fencing sessions, as they really helped me to improve my fitness and fencing performance.

The Void

I've been reading the Book of Five Rings again, and I've been trying to work out what Musashi means by the Void. He says that using it, we can determine our enemies spirit, and use it to influence our own. He doesn't directly describe it, saying that it is nothingness and vice-versa. So, I've been puzzling over it, and I think that I've come across a plausible answer.

The void is nothingness. Nothingness is all around us. Take away the landscape and the air, and there is nothing at all. But the fact is that there can NEVER be nothingness, because there is always something there. Even if you drain the air out of a space, we proclaim that there is a vacuum there, still far from nothingness. But perhaps nothingness doesn't have to be the absence of physical things. It can maybe represent the potential of existence, because there is always the potential for something to exist in a space occupied by nothing. Therefore, we are surrounded by this potential; a potential that enables us to see what could occupy a space, and when it will do so. To use the void is to see past nothingness into potential. If this were to happen, you would be able to see the enemies attack before it happened, because the potential would be there before the physical action of the attack was. So, the true void, I believe, is a realisation that there is a potential to do anything, at any time, and that to become a true follower of the way, a warrior has to interpret and react accordingly and instinctively to the changing of the void.

Sportsmanship and Fencers

I think that fencing is one of those sports where sportsmanship is of vital importance. It is essential in my opinion to show respect to everyone; your opponent, the referee and even spectators. Yesterday, I met an opponent at the Suffolk Open who ignored all of these values. I was fencing him in the final, and he did not behave in the best of ways. He argued with the referee or what was basically every alternate point, even when it was as simple as a parry riposte against him, he swore that there had to be a mistake. He claimed that I had hit him in the eye, and that it effected his fencing. I should clear this up now: The hit beforehand had hit him on the shoulder. I know this because I placed the point there deliberately, and the hit registered on target. Even if it did flick upwards to the mask, it would never have landed squarely in the eye, since the point was almost level with the back of his head during my recovery. Add all of that on to the fact that he was WEARING A MASK and you can see why I was disbelieving of that (particularly when a few months ago, the same guy claimed I fleched into him, injuring his shoulder and ruining his fencing arm). He also had the nerve to shout at a woman in the audience, claiming that she had said something that had distracted him, which had meant that his attack had been parry riposted. This claim caused most of the spectators, including the referee and my opponents coach amusingly, to tell him to shut up and keep fencing.

This is probably the only thing about fencing that annoys me. You can meet some really nice people when you fence, and they see fencing as a laugh and a fun hobby. Then you see die-hard fencers who believe that mercy is for the weak and to win by any means necessary is fair play. I like to think that I am someone who enjoys fencing as a hobby, and I am friendly when club-fencing, but I also try to be friendly at competitions, and talk to the nervous ones. Yesterday for example, people were introducing themselves to me, and I made some new friends. My final opponent, however, talked to his coach, and told anybody who would listen (which wasn't that many people to be honest) his game plan, and how he would make it to the final. Some people are just annoying, and see fencing as a serious sport. It can be at times, but you have to realise that it isn't restricted to that. It can be a lot of fun as well, and that's what I enjoy about it. It's a hobby as well as a sport. So, it is sort of ironic that the thing about fencing that annoys me is the fencers themselves. Not all of them, I hastily add. Most fencers are kind and respectful of other people. There are only a select few who are not like this.

While I am writing, I would like to thank Joseph Igali for supporting me, and also congratulate him for doing extremely well consistently throughout the day. Good on you!

Return

I'm back after the GCSE's, completely worn out from revision and essay writing, but I've now got a very long, and I feel, deserved break. So, on my very first day of freedom, I return to my blog, to talk about a particular subject that I've had in mind; practice.
We often get a lot of practice in on the piste. which can prepare us for competitions. We learn how to hit, and what to expect. But its not often that we learn to hit within a 2cm squared area, or what you should do if your opponent doesn't want to fence you. This is why I believe that practice of any kind can be vital. I've tried different methods, such as stringing up a tennis ball to the ceiling and hitting that, and placing a tennis ball on one of those softball tees and lunging at that. I've lunged for light switches, tried to flick-hit a golf ball, and tried to step forwards and backwards with a one kilogram weight on my leg. Obscure training methods can actually be helpful. The person who recommended that I lunge at a tennis ball does it himself, 500 hits a day. Don't just nod and read on, think about it. 500! The first time I tried it, I got 92 hits in an hour! It goes to show that practice makes better than before. I'm still lunging at a tennis ball on a softball tee at school, which has drawn some odd stares and jeers from most people (although the nine and ten year olds are quite interested, I have to say). They may seem odd, but I think that I've improved because of these practice techniques, although I will say now, if you are going to use weights on your legs, make sure that they are lighter than 1 kilo, or you might end up like me and get a killer of a cramp. Oh, and don't lunge at the light switch when relatives are trying to revise for A-levels; you'll only make it worse for yourself. Other than that, go for it!

Changing Times

Yesterday, I was asked to preside for the U12 team competition. I agreed, and watched a variety of fencers battling it out on the piste. Refereeing is quite a good thing to do, because it helps you to understand how to preside (obviously), but it also shows you a different range of styles and techniques. Unfortunately, the U12 teams were more or less lacking in technique. It seemed to be hit hit hit all the time. However, there were a fair few who were evidently trying to make the best of it. What I find quite annoying in competitions is the fact that people with bad technique seem to win more often than those who are actually 'worthy' of a victory. It's annoying, but we've got to learn to live with it unfortunately. There was a girl there, who seemed quite unfazed by all the points going against her; she was attempting to hit with good technique, which I thought was just brilliant. The only bad side of watching all of these people fence made me realise I wanted to fence. I began to suffer from withdrawal after two hours, and I had to remind myself to stop lunging with the size three foils. I fenced at the end, so that was fine.
I'm going to be away for a good few weeks, since I've got my GCSE's coming up. Coming up very fast. So, I'm going to have to get stuck into revision, and hope that it all works out. See you soon!

Sloganise

This blog is very short. So short, that if I digress, it will not be short at all. I'm just posting a slogan that came into my head a few minutes ago:

'This is not a foil which I use, but the embodiment of potential'

It sounds a bit Shakespearean and pretentious, but I think it has the desired effect. There are some fencers who are afraid of their opponent; afraid of being hit. Some even refuse to lunge, and charge forwards, perhaps not mindlessly, but clumsily. It may be due to lack of technique, but is it also a complete avoidance of lunging, or even arm-extending. I had to explain to a beginner at school about how the target area in foil was limited to the torso. Her face fell slightly when I mentioned the word 'limited'. I then improvised a completely random method of making her feel better about the weapon. I didn't use the pretentious slogan above (Thank God, she would have thought I was mad), but I summed it up pretty well. Your target isn't limited to a particular spot on the torso. It doesn't have to be HIT THERE OR SUFFER. You can hit to the shoulder, to the side, slightly to the right, etc. You can almost say you have an infinite amount of target to hit. You don't have to poke and limit yourself to hitting there. Limit yourself to the target, and hit anywhere on it. I think that's alright, and this blog turned out to be not quite short.

Thank you for the Music

I'm sure that all fencers have a ritual that they go through before they start a competition, or even just a normal match. This is sometimes done for comfort, out of habit, or for inspiration. Inspiration is something that means different things to different people. With me, it can vary between creating a fierce mood, or calming me down. To do these things, I listen to music without fail before a competition. Here are some examples of what I find inspiring in music.

• Bat out of Hell
• Go the Distance
• I'm still Standing
• Eye of the Tiger
• Everything I do
• For Crying out Loud
• God of War Montage

These are just a few examples, but they seem to follow a set pattern of inspiration.

The Melody of A Blade

I purchased a new foil yesterday, and I used it whilst I was fencing (obviously). I was surprised to find that most of my attacks were landing, and all of the techniques I used were almost flawless. I then switched back to my other foil, and suddenly, my attacks seemed to fail. So, I wonder whether the foil affects how you fence. My philosophical and common sense screams NO!, but I have to consider it. Maybe it was just a pyschological effect; better foil, better style, but I'm still not sure. Musashi says that the weapon does not matter, if you are good enough. So maybe it does matter before you are not good enough? Do blades matter, or don't they? I'll consider his for a while, and then come up with a good answer...

Seeing is Believing

Where should we look when we fence? There is so much to take in, and yet we need to focus on one aspect. Where should we start? Study this image, and find the face. When you have found it, study fencers as such:

REALISE THAT THE THING YOU ARE LOOKING FOR LIES NOT IN THE BODY, OR THE HANDS OR FEET, BUT THE FENCER ITSELF.

Lessons

It is said that we all learn a lesson; in victory and defeat. There is no such thing as mastery, only bettering yourself, and because of this, there is a lesson in everything. This is my lesson for today:
Today was the day that I fenced in the Norfolk County Junior Championships. Most of the people who turned up were from N.A.F, and there were a few others. I was in the U16, along with six others. Included within the six, was the opponent I beat two weeks ago in the DE, 15-11. I don't think I felt nervous then, just a quiet reminder that I had only beaten him once. I didn't want to get complacent for the poules match. Evidently, he felt differently. Every victory for him seemed to be magnificent, and he frequently told uninterested spectators that her was doing well. Me and him were the last poules match. What did I feel then? Confidence? Determination? I can't say. I don't remember feeling anything. Remembering the technique I used last time, I entered the match, and came out of it a victor, 3-1. He didn't seem fazed by it, but something had changed about his attitude nonetheless.
The DE started, and I found myself in the final, facing none other than the same opponent. This is then where emotions began to gather. There was a desire to beat him, a desire to win, a determination to prove myself and an anxiousness that I would fail. I then realised that these emotions did not matter. None of them would help me on the piste, only hinder my performance. I tried to crush them out, and the DE began.
After two periods, I was in the lead 8-3. I knew that I had the psychological advantage. All I had done was hit him, and exploit his own technique, and suddenly, he had excuses for walking onto my parry ripostes. Amongst them were slippery shoes, a bad foil, and a sore leg. Inwardly, I knew that he believed he had lost. For the final period, I expected him to go all out to attack, but he continued with his previous technique. I think that he knew that he had lost. Some part of me thought that this was bad. The 'Hagukare' tells you to burn with mad death when the time comes, but this acceptance disturbed me a little. However, I was satisfied with a victory of 13-4. I was satisfied, as I had shown once again that gaining points with a bad technique is no substitute for gaining fewer points with a good technique. So, as a winner of the U16 Norfolk Championships, I feel that there is a lesson for everyone.

• Always try to better yourself, and you will find that your opponent will then be bettered subsequently.
• Even when things look bad, there is always a victory somewhere.
• Burn with mad death when the time comes.
• Utilize your opponents weaknesses, and attempt to mask your own.

So, I have learnt a lot on this day. Also, well done to all those N.A.F fencers who took part and had victories of their own. Thanks for the partaking, and the support.

Mind tuning

I fenced in the Norfolk Senior County Championships today, and I came across a very great challenge whilst I was fencing. In the poules, I fenced someone who I know doesn't have very good technique. To my annoyance, he beat me 5-3, due to the fact that he would constantly run forwards, twisting deliberately and lunging low to avoid being hit. What annoyed me was his victory due to bad fencing, not his victory itself. In the DE, I came up against him, and beforehand, I took a few moments to try and work out how to beat him.

It is a strange thing, and perhaps a hard thing, to change a style of fencing instantly. It needs to be gradual, and sometimes forced. For instance, I was told by one of my fencing instructors to keep my elbow tucked in and turn the wrist over more so that the thumb is at '1:30'. I struggled with this for a few weeks, and then tried to change back to my original form of outward elbow, thumb on top. I was amazed to find that I could not remember how I used to do it. So, was it possible to change my entire style to beat this person?

I don't suppose I changed the whole style. More or less, I just changed my form, and my attacks. Rather than my usual arsenal, I tried a more patient approach. I had nine minutes, so why try to end it in one? After the first period, the score was 3-2 to me. After that, we were never more than one point ahead of each other. Eventually, it was 9-8 to him. I desperately wanted to rush in and finish this, but this little niggling thought kept screaming NO NO NO NO NO NO!. So, I tried to keep calm (by the way Dave, C.U.P, calm under pressure is hard, but good). I scored the next two hits, and I knew then that something had changed in my opponent. Rather than his slow and steady movements, he had speeded up, and his non-fencing arm was rigid with tension. Something had possibly twigged in his brain, that he could lose this, and in my opinion, he abandoned what had been working without knowing it. He began to attack me more often having previously scored on the counter-attack. When he shouted at the referee, who had just awarded me the hit for scoring with a blatant parry riposte compared to his fleche, I knew that he was getting wound up. I won the 15-11, and ended up coming joint third overall.

The point of this blog is to show that everyone has what I like to call 'A Punishment Mind'. This is where the fencer gets into the mindset that if they get angry, they will ferociously beat down their opponent in a flurry. This may work for some people, but the calm way is almost always the best. Aggression is better than anger, and in this case, it proves itself.

The Trackless Road

Having seen the behaviour of fencers at competitions, arrogant and modest, fierce, angry and confident, I decided to see what a samurai thought of such behaviours. I personally dislike arrogance, anger and misplaced agression, as they often lead to bad fencing and bad habits for younger fencers. I consulted Yamamoto's book on The Way of the Samurai, and this is what he says:

At the lowest level of skill and ability, one thinks of himself and others as poor. He thinks this because he has mastered only a little. Needless to say, a person at this level is not at all useful. At the middle level , one is still useless, but he can at least understand that he and others have mastered only a little. At a high level, since a person has made something his own, he is proud of his accomplishment. And he is also glad of the praise of others. He grieves over the shortcomings of others. This kind of person is at least useful. At a higher level, one pretens to know nothing, yet others understand that he holds an upper hand. The majority of people cannot get beyond this level. Beyond this higher level, there is one further step: the level of the trackless road. If you travel deeper into the trackless road, infinite secrets will finally appear. Then you can never see the end of your mastery. Then you realise how lacking you are. You only have to go ahead with your intention of mastery in mind You go forward without pride and without humility

I don't need to explain this as it speaks for itself.

Obvious?

Our strangest thoughts usually occur when we are tired, so naturally, before I sleep, I seem to come up with weird ideas and scenarios. However, on Sunday, I came up with a question that seemed really obvious, but actually required deeper thought. The question was simply 'How do I beat people when I fence?'. I can think of how I would answer that, but there is probably an answer for everyone.

I asked someone today how they beat an opponent they had just fenced. The answer was 'I was just faster than them' I don't think that this was true. I think that the opponent just didn't realise that they were not reacting to their speed. There was nothing to do with speed. People claim that fencers are sometimes too fast, or too forceful to beat. If a fencer has reached a certain stage, they should be able to beat any opponent with any traits, in my opinion.

Thinking about this, I came up with a metaphorical scene. Imagine a test that you and someone else are sitting. You both finish the test, and are then given access to the answers, and the other person's answers. The people who claim that the fencers are too fast will look at the test papers and see only their mistakes, and the other person's correct answers. Other people will focus on their correct answers, and see only them, even though their other answers may be wrong. This is what I would do.

I have the answers, and so I would correct my own mistakes at first. Then, having looked at the other person's paper, I could see their mistakes, and I could then make good use of them. In the fencing world, this means exploiting their mistakes until your opponent is mentally and physically drained by your onslaught. Correct your mistakes, and exploit your opponents.

Unexpected

Today, I fenced in the Cambridge County Individual 'MegaFoil' Competition. Recently, with competitions, I have been intending to just score points, and try to fence my best. I frequently see people smacking themselves over the head in exasperation and fury as they loose matches. I want to just fence at a competition and feel completely relaxed.
There were two rounds of poules. I won the first set, loosing only five points, and came second in the second set, loosing one match and two other points. The man I lost to was also in the first poule. I had beaten him 5-2. He then beat me 5-2. The DE's got underway, and I told myself to remain focused and to remain calm. I won the first match, and then the second, and then the third. I hadn't been expecting it, but I was suddenly in the final. I didn't really have time to feel shocked, and I was just trying to remain calm. This became quite hard when I realised my opponent was none other than the man who I had beaten in the first poule, who had then beaten me. He was obviously a favourite to win, seeing as though he had most of the room in his corner. Every time he scored a hit, applause rang in the air, along with shouts of 'Come on!' and other such encouragement. There were only three people from my club backing me. It was fairly discouraging, but it made me all the more determined to score hits off him.

Most of that match passed in a blur. Eventually, I began the final three minutes with the score of 10-10. My opponent promptly scored the first hit, much to the crowd's pleasure. It was then that I made a counter-attack, expecting him to parry it. Instead, I hit him just below the arm. 11-11. I then realised what had happened. My opponent had grown relaxed with the first hit, and he had let his guard slip. This seemed to spark the idea off in me that he was more than beatable. He was just any other fencer. Any fencer can make mistakes. They just need to be exploited. Confidence and adrenaline running, I attacked. After a minute and a half, I had beaten him, 15-11. Afterwards, people asked me what it felt like to have won the competition. To be honest, I didn't feel anything. It was simply a quiet satisfaction of my achievement, and confidence in my abilities. It was a good day, all in all. I felt great then, but I'm exhausted now! That's probably one thing that was expected.

Running on Empty

Despite what the title may seem like, I'm not going to write about the film starring River Phoenix or anything like that. This is going to be about how we feel while we fence. I noticed on Wednesday that we feel different things when fencing a variety of opponents. When I first began fencing, I became nervous around anyone wearing a white jacket or breeches. Since I have now fenced a variety of opponents, I don't really feel anything when I fence people. I feel calm, in a way. I only begin to feel pressured in a competition, in a DE. When I feel pressured, I tend to increase the pace a lot, but this leads to wild parries and bad footwork more often than not. Very rarely, my adrenaline kicks in. I can't really say for sure when this happens. I think that I get energised when I am fencing someone who I subconsciously want to do well against.

We don't always get emotional while we fence. There are also times when we have various states of fatigue. Since my injury, I become tired more often, but I always try to work to the best of my ability. In my opinion, there is tired, fatigued and empty. Tired is when we feel a slight nagging feeling in our muscles, telling us to slow down. Fatigued is when we feel drained, and feel as if we can't go on anymore. Empty is a feeling that I have only had twice in my fencing career. It occurred for the second time on Wednesday. It happens when you bypass tired, and then appear at fatigue. My legs were seriously aching, but I kept telling myself that fatigue is a message, and messages can be ignored. I pressed on, and I hit empty. It was very strange. I couldn't actually feel anything, and I felt as if I could keep on fencing for hours. Nothing seemed to be tiring anymore. Perhaps the strangest thing was that I wasn't thinking. I mean that I was thinking as in: functioning. Whenever my opponent attacked me, I was able to respond very quickly. After the fight, this feeling promptly left, and fatigue set in. Empty is very weird for me, but it is also very good. Maybe this forms the trance-like meditation that Buddhist's and Samurai seek for. If it is, I have only seen a glimpse of it. Or maybe I was just exhausted. Who knows?

Mocks

I have returned from my exams, and I have a few results so far. Some of them are pretty good, and some of them are not as good. I noticed that the subjects that I did well in are the subjects that I actually enjoy doing. If I don't like a subject, I tend to spend less time doing it. This is a direct parallel to my fencing style. I perform moves that I generally like, or that work on certain opponents. If something I do on the piste doesn't work, or if I don't like the feel of it, I often don't do it. Because of this, I feel that I should spend more time attempting to improve my lesser skills, instead of using something that I feel is easy. I shall try this experiment, and see how it goes.