The Last Post (for now)

As we are getting closer to Christmas, I have decided to stay off the air for a while, so this will be my last post for quite a while. Normally this wouldn't be the case, but I've got my mocks coming up, so I'm getting stuck into revision, which leaves little time for blogging, unfortunately. So, I am abandoning my blogging world, and withdrawing into the world of figures and annoying passages of German I have to learn.

So, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everybody!

The mocks finish on 16th January, so watch this space. (figuratively of course)

Also, here's another Poser Picture to look at:

Equal Lines

It's not often that you find a fencing fable or philosophy, so I was quite surprised when I came across one when I was reading. I have changed it slightly, but in essence, it's the same thing.

A coach is watching his students fence. He is more focused on one, than the other. He focuses on the one who is winning, and looks at his forms and tactics. He is waiting for his opponent to attack, and then hitting him with either a counter-attack or parry riposte, exploiting his opponent's shorter reach. He wins the fight 10-2. Afterwards, the coach calls him over, and shows him a piece of paper. He then draws two lines on it. A long one, and a short one. He then tells the student o make them equal, and hands him a pencil and an eraser. The student thinks for a moment, and then draws a line through the long line, cutting it so that it is the same length as the short line. He then rubs out the off cut. He hands the sheet of parer back to the coach. The coach smiles knowingly, and rubs out both the lines. 'Here's how you should do it', he says. He redraws the lines, and takes the pencil. He draws on a section to the short line, so that they are both equal. He pauses, and then draws another section onto it, making it longer. The lines have now been inversed. He hands the piece of paper to the pupil, and says to him:

Concentrate on improving your own game, rather than finding fault with your opponents. Extend your own line; extend yourself.

It's so simple, yet it is a great metaphor. I need to find some more of these, and if I do, I shall interpret them, and hopefully learn.

Original or Modern

Recently, they have been playing reruns of the Star Wars saga on TV, and I've noticed how much the original trilogy differs from the most modern films. The original trilogy focuses of the Force more or less as a religion, whilst the modern ones hardly seem to bring it into the film, and if they do, it is only as a type of power. Episodes 1, 2 and 3 demonstrate how the Jedi and the Sith conquer each other only through saber duels. The original trilogy brings a more religious attitude towards it, with meditation, empty minds and other such exercises. Following on from this, I think that people can be separated into the categories of people who fence from the original trilogy, and people who fence from the modern films. The latter want to be a form of Yoda who leaps around like Orville on speed. They want to become masters in a matter of years, and then duel to the death at competitions. The former are the people who realise that there is more to fencing than the foil. The foil is only as powerful as the fencer who wields it. Episode 5 demonstrates this perfectly. Luke spends half a year training with Yoda, and never once is told to use his weapon. These types of people spend longer training, and strive to perfect simple movements, rather than flashy, twirly ones. The modern trilogy people become dissatisfied quickly with fencing, as they realise that real fencing is not a lightsaber duel. I was refereeing a couple of beginners on Thursday. As soon as they began, one of them charged down the piste, casting aside all technique and form, literally running forwards, foil raised above his head. I promptly called halt, and told the fencer in question that this wasn't a film. I explained that the representation of swordplay in films is a Hollywood error, and that it was not the way to fence. I got an uncouth remark back, but I at least put my point across.

I think that I am closer to the original trilogy. I want to get better at individual techniques, rather than just win, and I also consider the mental side, rather than just the ideal place to hit just to puncture an artery. The majority of beginners are the modern trilogy, but there are a few who genuinely want to be like the original.

Up at the top of the page is a random picture of a Jedi Knight I made on Poser (a brilliant computer program). Rob, if you spot your own resemblance, I had you in mind with your Jedi interest.

Fencing Types

I brought a book on Saturday by an Olympic fencer with the name of Ziemowit Wojciechowski. His book is mainly for coaches, but I found it really good. It gives you lesson advice and group activities, but also tactical advice and fitness planning. It also gives you odd science formulas. For example:

i = Nc / Nc + Nr

One of the books highlights is probably the types of fencer. It divides them into four categories. Permanently-pressing, Maneuvering-attacking, Maneuvering-defending and Permanently defending. There are descriptions of them, examples, and ways how to beat them. I'm not really sure what my category is, but I think it is a Maneuvering-Defending type of style. For the record, here is the description:

Fencers of this style blend attacks and defensive strokes equally, paying a lot of attention to preparatory actions. They like manoeuvring on the piste while discovering their opponents intentions and playing a tactical game. They produce various parry-ripostes and counter attacks with equal ease as well as many attacks with the ability to switch to another action. Their initiative is sometimes hidden. They often create situations where an opponent reacts in a premeditated way but is not adequately successful.

Not all of this is true about me, but I think that it is the one I can relate to the most. However, I linger more towards parry ripostes and I don't maneuver that much. Still, I fall into a category at least. I'm not going to say how to beat the categories. I don't want to divulge all my secrets!

The Answer

Here it finally is, the answer to the question. It gets inside your head, the way questions do, always niggling at the back of your mind, but now it will leave, once the answer has been given.

Q: Who would win in a fight between the Wombles and the Clangers?

In the event of a draw, what if it were the Wombles versus the Clangers and Bagpuss?

A: Bagpuss.

Reason: I've been thinking about this, and I'm sure that Bagpuss is the solution. The fight has to be completely fair, so there can be no advantages. Because of this, the fight will have to take place in some half gravitational world. Also, it's just the Wombles and the Clangers, so the Clangers can't have the soup dragon as a killing machine, and the Wombles can't construct their own tank like contraption out of recycled waste. Although Tomsk was indeed the only 'hard' Womble, but he probably isn't used to half-gravity. Also, the Clangers would not be used to it either. At this point, no-one has the advantage. Call in Bagpuss, and there is a clear winner. He has the added advantage of a huge bulk, and although he wouldn't be able to move in normal gravity (because of his bulk), he has limited movement in this world. Even if he is wounded, another layer of fat would slide out from the wound. If the battle draws on, Bagpuss could live off his own stomach contents for decades to come. Therefore Bagpuss is the winner, and we should use him for all future conflicts in the world.

The answer has been told, and I hope that no-one is dissappointed.

And Now for Something Completely Different...

For a fencing blog, this is a totally random point. It's not exactly philosophical, and it might have a simple answer, but I'm struggling to find it. I got talking to someone about this, and we still haven't found the answer. News of the debate has spread around my school, and I hear most of my classmates discussing it. Different points are discussed, and different angles are considered. My philosophy teacher has struggled to solve it, and I am sure that may men will push their pens aside and weep before the question is answered. Maybe it will never be answered, and it will linger on as a void meaningless entity, up in the high spots with 'What is the meaning of Life?' and 'If bullets bounce off Superman's chest, how come he ducks when you throw a gun at him?'. Maybe when I am dead and buried, some faceless stranger will lay the answer on a piece of paper on my grave and walk off into the sunset. Until then, I'll ask as many people as possible. To solve this, you'll need a clear mind, some form of beverage, a calculator, a pencil and a piece of paper. Here is the question:

Who would win in a fight between the Wombles and the Clangers?

In the event of a draw, what would happen if it were the Wombles versus the Clangers and Bagpuss?

I told you it was random. There is a random side to us all, I feel.

Fencers on Gaming

Though I feel that I'm beginning to mature (or am I?) I still have a passion for gaming. Set me up with any console, no matter how old, and I'll get stuck in. I've only been a serious gamer for about four years, but I improve rapidly. One good game I have is a Japanese Kendo game, which I personally think is quite realistic. You choose a starting character, and train him up until he is excelling in speed, power, spirit, insight and other such attributes. You then work your way through towns, defeating dojos and wandering samurai until you begin to participate in Imperial Matches, and eventually fight your own master, and yourself in a dream like scene. It sounds weird and cliche, but it is good. I noticed while on it the other day, how the other warriors are beaten. There's this one guy, who I think is called Jengo, who's incredibly fast. He will leap upon you with many screeches, and beat you down with a bokken until you collapse. There's another called Nuatsamoa who attacks with an oar, Musashi style. My point is this: They can all be beaten. I'm sure anybody reading this will think of course they are beatable, they are computer generated pixels on a screen. I know this, but the point is that your style may change to beat them, but you can always beat them. You cannot be affected by their speed, or their power, because there is always a way around it. No opponent is unstoppable; Rocky Balboa got beaten once by Mr. T, so if he can be beaten everyone can be! It may take a while to work it out, but there is always a way. To use a matrix quotation 'They are part of a world that is limited by rules. That is why they will never be as strong or as fast as you'. There is a way around every opponent. Nick Evangelista said this, because it's true. If they are quick, upset their rhythm, if they are powerful, make them work to hit you, if they are quick and powerful, make them work harder. There is always a road. Just find it in the shrubbery.

Frustration

I think that I'm now more depressed and frustrated then I've ever been. I've been fencing for about a week and a half since my injury, and it is incredibly frustrating. I can't lunge, and it's only now that I realise how big a role it has in fencing. I have to wait for fencers to come to me most of the time. This is fine with beginners, but more experienced people realise what I want them to do, and just back away. I've won most of my matches so far, but I prefer to focus on how I'm doing technique wise. I'm loosing more points than I should be, and I've been told it's going to be at least another four weeks before I'm back to normal. It's incredibly annoying to not be able to fence with my usual form and style. I arranged a match with the Norwich High School for the 29th, and I doubt whether I will be able to compete. The NFC is doing their annual competition and I know that I cannot compete in this, despite me looking forward to it. I'm told that I just have to deal with it and be patient, but it hasn't helped. Fencing was a way in which I could escape from the world of everyday problems and trivia, and now I can't, so I'm getting really wound up, fed up and frustrated.

ID and Ego

Once again, my English teacher has shed some light on my confusion, relating to why I become more angry than usual at this time in my fencing role. We were reading Kuhbla Kahn in the lesson, and this led to a discussion on Sigmund Freud. Freud stated that there were three divisions in the mind. There is the superego, which is what we aspired to be, which is usually influenced by other people. There is the ego, which is what we are. Finally, there is the ID, which is everything that we were. This represents what we want, and what unconscious thoughts are made up of. Most of the time, the ID is repressed by the ego, but sometimes, the ID escapes, and this is known as a 'Freudian Slip'.

In fencing, I try to focus on my ego, because focusing on the superego makes you forget about what is happening on the piste in front of you. Most of the time, I manage to keep my ID under control. When a hit is awarded unfairly or without proper consideration, my ID begins to beg me to question the hit, and argue against it, but my ego knows that I should respect the referee. If the hit is then awarded against me unfairly, my ID becomes very angry, but I usually manage to restrain myself from becoming angry. It has been recently though, that my ID is overcoming my ego, and I don't know why. I find myself becoming angry sometimes, and I argue against hits more frequently than normal. I don't want to become a bad loser or anything like that, and there is no guarantee that it will happen. Even so, the ID is always there, waiting to be released onto the world. I guess Rob would call this my dark side. Maybe I just need to balance the two out. Freud said that we have a safety valve for our ID, which lies in jokes and dreams, ways of skirting around the political correctness and prejudice. So, when I fence, I shall just try and have a laugh along the way.

Romanticism

The title of this post may seem a little odd, but that will be explained later on. The subject of this post starts with Ernest Hemmingway, an author who wrote several diverse culture novels. We were discussing this in English, and the teacher explained why the dialogue is so odd in The Old Man and the Sea. He said it reads in such a boring way because it emphasises romanticism. Romanticism is said to be the fusion of man and nature. This meant that the old man in the story is only named near the end so that he retains his archetype and highlights his romanticism with the sea, as the same description applies to both the old man and the sea. The teacher then singled me out, and asked me to describe what it felt like when I was 'in the zone' while fencing. This is now where I discuss it.

When I get in the zone, I don't feel very energetic. It's not really a sort of 'Eye of the Tiger' mood, despite what people expect it to be. It is basically, an example of romanticism. I feel very peaceful, aware of everything going on around me, and not just in the environment, but part of it. All the troubles and trivia of the world are brushed aside when I'm on the piste. I don't have to think, because my brain and my body are perfectly co-ordinated. They don't stop to think, and they are not harboured by the limits of the physical anatomy. Everything just seems to flow. A second seems like a minute and vice versa. My mind never stops, and only remembers that I am a person after the bout. Before that I am just a fencer. So when people ask me what happened at points in the fight, if I have been in the zone, I can't honestly remember. My mind will not have stopped to consider it, as it will have automatically responded.

Romanticism for me happens very rarely, but when it all snaps into place, it feels great. Maybe that's why I fence. To achieve a state of mind that men search for over decades of meditation and philosophy. Perhaps.

Injuries

Today was meant to be a happy day, of all things. I was going to be fencing in the Eastern Regions competition, but in the end I didn't. Not really anyway. I got there. I was in fencing gear. I fenced someone who I had fenced before, and I was not up to my usual standard. My hamstring muscle was twinging and aching. I did some stretching, and it went away. It was halfway through my first fight that my leg began to twinge again. I tried to ignore it, and I lunged. I felt a brief popping sensation before my hamstring muscle flared with a brutal agony. After the fight, I hobbled over to the benches, and stayed there for the rest of the day. As I was applying ice, I was informed that I had torn my hamstring and would not be able to fence for at least four weeks. Disaster! There goes Cambridge Leon Paul series, my school match on Monday against the UEA, my London training days. Four weeks of non-fencing! At the minute, I am still in pain, but it has dimmed slightly. Thankfully, other N.A.F fencers who were there kept me informed of their progress. I have to note they all did well.

When I first started fencing, I thought it would be exciting to be injured. I have no idea why, but I did. Now, I never want to be injured EVER AGAIN. I'll still attend my clubs though, but as a spectator.

Do not stand by my piste and weep,

I am not there, I'm on the side holding the clipboards and stopwatches.

My Right Foot

I was told yesterday that my right foot, is, in fact, wrong. David pointed out that when I lunge, my foot turns outward. When he had told me this, I started fencing again, and I suddenly noticed it. It was only a few inches off course, but it looked so obvious, I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before. I know it isn't a disaster, but it is slightly worrying how these habits take hold. I will need to coax it back into its rightful place. On this note, one should look closely at themselves fencing. A full-length mirror is quite useful. Practice some basic moves, and see whether anything else needs a slight adjustment.

Alone

At a refereeing course yesterday, I noticed a slightly disturbing thing. We were watching Olympic finals, and during this, one fencer scored a brilliant riposte. The entire audience cheered, but when his opponent scored a hit, only a tiny fraction cheered. I realised that it must feel quite bad to have no-one supporting you. I have seen fencers at competitions have crowds of people at their end of the piste, whereas their opponent only has his or her parents or coach. It struck a chord within me. The feeling of loneliness must lower your fencing performance dramatically, because of it's psychological disadvantages. Now, I have realised, that that is not the case. However many people support someone, it doesn't make an ounce of difference when they are on the piste. For on the piste, no-one else can fight with you. More often than not, you have to fight with yourself, to overcome your emotions. Although I may not have many people up my end of the piste, there is always support in my mind. Fencers shouldn't base their skill on their number of supporters. Likewise, their opponents shouldn't be put off by the opposing numbers. As long as they have confidence in their own abilities, they will always have the largest amount of support. Here's a line from a poem I found:

'When the mind opens, the twin sword will fall

For it has seen the hopeless cause of its passion

And so the same person fights hand in hand with himself

Gives himself hope

Gives himself voice... '

The Line of Duty

A few months ago, I was asked had I ever been injured in my fencing. I had honestly replied no. My answer has now changed, as of yesterday.
I was fencing, when my opponent lunged at me. Realising that he would try for a riposte to shoulder, like he had done before, I parried with a pronation. This carried his point straight into my knuckle with a small crack. Pain. My opponent hurriedly asked me if I was alright. For some reason, I said I was fine, and we continued. Several fights later, I checked under my glove, and saw a red bruise beginning to set in. Turning my hand over, I felt the knuckle in question 'pop' and a flare of agony shoot down my finger. Even as I type now, it's still pretty sore.
I know it's not a major injury, but it still hurts enough to be classified as an injury. Someone I know once got a sabre blade through their shoulder, so I was thankful that didn't happen to me. I think it's changed my style in some way though. Today, I was fencing someone, and I didn't want to get hit, for fear of repercussion. I fenced as if I wouldn't get hit by anything. Not panicky, not arrogant, just good old 'middle way' lunging. Surprisingly, it seems to work. If I can get injured in different ways, what else would change about my style? I won't try it out, but it's a thought...

The Simple Things

For some reason, while I was fencing last week, I got really frustrated with myself. This is quite unlike me, as I try to remain placid throughout the match. However, none of my hits were landing, and my opponent, someone who tended to whip the point in rather than place it, kept hitting me solely on the counter attack. I kept thinking, he shouldn't be getting points for my mistakes. Every point, I had to keep tugging my left handed glove down. I don't actually have a left hand, just a stumpish type thing. I have to wear a sock-like glove to cover it, so it doesn't get hurt. I have to pull it down, as it keeps slipping off. Today, I decided to just take it off. My opponent watched me cast aside my glove, and at his lead 7-2, we began to fence.

I felt better for some reason. The lack of glove seemed to have some kind of physical effect. In the open air, it felt free, and comfortable. I physically and mentally relaxed, and resumed fencing. The final score was 10-7 to me. Somehow, my lack of glove had completely changed me. Perhaps it was a pyschological thing. Casting off the remnant of a frustrating period, had mentally rid me of it, and so I relaxed. Perhaps. Or maybe my opponent was just bamboozled by my actions. Both valid points. Of course, I wouldn't recommend ripping off your mask half-way through a bout, so as to breathe a little easier. Just try and do something simple, like taking off your glove, and putting it back on again. Simple things produce great changes. A breakthrough, I feel!

Fighting with Fire

I attended yet another competition in Camden on Saturday (missing Rob's grand return to Norfolk), which turned out to be quite productive. After a slow and generally unorganised start, the fencing began. After the first poule, I felt great. The adrenaline was flowing, and all of my pent up energy from a two hour journey was bursting out of me. I had won two matches, and lost two matches. The two that I lost, I lost 5-4, both to fencers who had rankings above 15. After a half hour wait, the second round of poules began. Afterwards, I still felt great. This time, I had won three and lost two. Once again, the two that I lost were both 5-4. Incidentally, the second loss was against someone who had beaten me in the English Youth Championships, 5-1. He won this time on a simultaneous lunge, in which he had the point in line first. A significant improvement. After an hours wait, the Direct Elimination started, and I lost 15-10. I wasn't particularly disappointed, as the fencer in question said he felt genuinely challenged by me, and his father said that I gave him a hell of a fight. It was only afterwards that I was told he was seeded 2nd in the Leon Paul series.

That day, I feel that I fenced really well, but how did I manage it? I think that initially I felt relaxed, and confident in my abilities. When I fenced the EYC fencer, however, I was loosing 4-2. I have to admit, I was pretty angry. My ripostes and beat attacks had landed flat, and he had scored on the counter. I felt pretty raging. I brought it back up to 4-4, and then lost 5-4, but only after several off-targets and simultaneous hits. The same thing happened in the DE. Parry ripostes were just landing flat on this guy. After the first break, I was down 8-4. A man approached me and said 'Try getting low. Left handers don't like that.'. It seemed they didn't. 8-6. Then it went to 12-9. I was angry. I had clearly lost the DE. I had done all the right techniques, but none of them had registered. Why? Was the equipment against me, or something bizarre like that? I was angry. Rage. 12-10. What? How did that happen? 15-10. It seemed to pass in a seething blur. Thankfully, my rage subsided on the thirteenth point, and I managed to accept my defeat gracefully.

Branching off, the Sith said that your anger made you more powerful, and the Jedi said that it would eventually destroy you. Which one? It certainly doesn't seem evil, but then again, it probably doesn't until it's far too late. However, there are two sides to every sword. Rage, and relaxation. The challenge will be to balance them out. I accept the challenge. En guarde!

The Limp Shouldered Man

This post is the neat version of an idea I half-formed yesterday afternoon. Whenever, I do a one on one lesson, my arm tends to ache after about five minutes. I am told that this is because we place emphasis on our wrist and finger work, and so we grip the foil tightly. Thus, our arm muscles are in a permanent grip mode. They will ache. Yesterday, after loosing a math 5-4, I wondered why I had lost it. I had won the previous match 5-1, and I had fenced this person several times, and always won convincingly. I think that when it got up to 4-4, I became cautious. I didn't want to throw this match away. I focused on getting the point, rather than the process with which to get the point. The result was that I tensed up majorly, and promptly became jerky and panicky.

Whenever you are relaxed, you tend to fare well, because you are not concerned with the points or the technique. You're just enjoying yourself; like a twig on the shoulders of a mighty stream. You tense, and suddenly, it's all about points. You can't really help it. It becomes vital. I think that this is the goal to aim for to gain a degree of success. Relax all of your limbs, and get out of the permanent grip mode. It doesn't really matter if you lose. You've lost nothing, except from your tenseness. Relaxation builds confidence, and vice versa.

A Couple of Competitions

Instead of attending the N.A.F this weekend, I went to Sheffield for the British Cadet competition and Junior competition. I am glad that I did. The location was a huge sports hall, and I have to admit, I felt nervous just by this. It gave the impression this wasn't just any old competition. To talk about the experiences I had, I will need to subdivide; there's too much to talk about normally!

STANDARDS

The standard of fencers was very good. Most of the people there had a ranking, so I felt a little out of place. When I casually asked someone how long they had been fencing, they replied since they were 4! Some people had brilliant technique, while others relied purely on speed. All of the fencers adapted their technique to each fight. Most of the time anyway.

TECHNIQUES

Most of the fencers were fast and flashy, flicking in ripostes and broken time attacks. Occasionally, someone would be more calm and collected, but still win fights. On the first day, I was told that to win in these competitions, you had to constantly attack. So I did. I promptly lost two matches. Looking back, I realise that those sort of fencers fight attacking styled people very often in these competitions. The next day, I changed my approach to a more relaxed, defensive approach. I won some.

ADVICE

Some of the fencers had advice to offer. Some said that you should chase your opponent to the back line where they can't retreat. Others said that you should go to the back line so that you could stand a better chance of hitting with a parry riposte. The general advice was don't let your opponent dictate the fight. Sometimes, comments like 'pronate the hand more' and 'don't argue with the referee' would surface. It's all good.

REACTIONS

I for one think that a fencer should be modest in victory and humble in defeat. Evidently, my opinion was not shared by many. Some fencers would scream with ecstasy whenever a hit was awarded, whereas others would sink to their knees if they failed. There were several arguments with judges about right of way and covering, which resulted in several yellow and red cards. The worst, and perhaps most amusing reaction I saw was when the fencer, who had been ranked highly in the pools, lost in the direct elimination. He slunk into a corner of the gym, threw his foil onto the ground, and sobbed weakly into his lame. It was quite painful to watch. The quarter-finals especially were pitiful. Basically, every hit was argued for, and the victor gloated in his opponents face. I long for the time when two fencers accept their victories and defeats without hysteria.

JUDGES

Some of the judges were quite fair, while others were tougher than something very tough indeed. Fortunately, the judge that I had was very nice, and dashed off to get my foil taped when it stopped working. In one fight I watched, one judge gave two red cards to a boy who slightly bowed his head when lunging (one after the other for the same offence) . He also gave another out when the boy argued against it. Whilst I agreed with his decisions (the boy was being very argumentative and abrupt) it was still quite moving to see the boy reduced to tears. Still, I suppose the judge is always right.

I think that that's about it then. A good experience all round, I suppose!

Questions

I was doing some creative writing the other day (just a hobby) and I was suddenly struck by the question, 'Why do I fence?' It seems an odd question (especially occuring to me when writing a novellete), but I have been trying to find the answer. It's not really a 'crisis of confidence' question, just a 'I got into this, and why am I still going?' type thing. If my memory serves well enough, I started fencing two years ago, as part of a compulsory sports fixture. A few lessons in, and I was hooked. But why did I continue? David once told me that the sword that gives life (katsujinken) is more important than the sword that takes life (setsunito). I think this means that you fence, so you don't have to fence. Paradoxical? There is a story of two samurai, staring at each other over a crowd, neither breaking their gaze. Their outer visages served as their weapons. When one realised that he had been beaten, he turned, and left. Musashi was once accosted, saying one of his opponents had in fact sliced a flap of skin from his scalp. Musashi then approached him, saying that because of a tumour growing on his head, any scars would still be intact. He invited the accoster to check. The accoster, completely unnerved by his presence, refused, and left. Zen master Bo Mun said that 'The other aspect is the sword that gives life: the experience of empowering ourselves, doing things which come naturally, that we love to do and find fulfillment in. When we do too many of these things, most of us get a certain softness or flatness. There's no keen working edge to our practice. It's hard to believe in ourselves if we go too far to that side. ' According to this, we fight so we can keep ourselves alert to our everyday pleasures. My own opinion is that the sword that gives life is symbolic. It symbolises cutting through the illusions of life, like false images of happiness. In a sense, the sword that gives life is a zen term that represents a tool used to reach enlightenment.

So why do I fence? I think I fence to gain something. I don't know what it is, but I will know what it is when I get to it.

In a Corner

On Saturday, I went to a coaching session, wherein I fenced someone from the N. F .C. This person was quite arrogant, with no real sense of technique. His attacks were simply: Rush forward, possible parry riposte, hit. As I said, no real technique. So, I was quite determined to beat him, which is quite unlike me. I think I wanted to prove that technique can triumph over force. So, we started fencing, and I was soon losing 7-2. I was trying to stay where I was as he rushed at me, so most of the time, my ripostes were landing flat over his shoulder. I knew I wasn't going to win it. I stopped trying to win. What was the point of trying to win? The score that followed was 9-7. To me. What had I done? I had transmogrified into a comeback specialist. I was quite suprised at this; so suprised, that I promptly lost 10-9. However, I didn't really care. I felt more satisfied with my comeback than I would have been in victory. How had I done it?
I think that when we are in pressured situations, we have an apathy for our success.I know that I did. So we stop trying to win. We start fencing. The margin is quite small, but greatly important.So, in future when I am in a bout. I will not fight to win. I will fence, and see how it goes.

Beyond Comfort

Yesterday, I asked my coach David to fence, and he willingly agreed. At first, I was getting most of the hits, but then everything seemed to change. David began to bob up and down on his feet, and began to move much more quickly. I was very surprised by this; after all, David had taught me that you mustn't bob up and down a lot (see The Graceful Swan). I don't mind admitting that it unsettled me. Fencing is not just played physically, it is also a thinking game. The problem was, that I couldn't see what he was trying to achieve. To unsettle me? Match my style? I was unsure, and because of this, I instantly became wary. Confidence on the piste is important, because even if you are panicking, if you remain confident on the exterior, you can keep up a good performance. However, I was incredibly wary of David, because I didn't know what he was doing. My confident exterior crumbled promptly, and David began to get point after point after point. Afterwards, he explained what he had done:
Everyone has a comfort zone, and it is in this zone that we fence at our very best. Yesterday, David succeeded in bringing me out of it, and so he scored plenty of hits. If we have a small comfort zone, then we will not fare as well. Perhaps beginners have a smaller comfort zone, which is why they are more easily unsettled. I would say that the comfort zone grows with experience. It's just a matter of expanding it. Now armed with this knowledge, I look forward to fencing David next time!

A Simple Error

Fencing today, I was helping to preside a group of younger fencers, which included some beginners. One fencer had been fencing for at least three months, while the other fencer had been fencing one month. We'll call then 3m and 1m. Watching them, I could see that 3m was performing fairly basic technique. 1m was doing likewise, however, it was slightly better. At the end of the match, fencer 1m had won, and 3m was confused why. I think I have the answer.

No criticism is intended for any beginner fencers reading, and I hope I do not offend anyone. Beginner fencers are split into two groups. For an example, let us say that 3m and 1m are watching a coach give a lesson on the beat attack. Fencer 3m will take the technique, and shape it into his own style. He will still beat the blade, but his point will then fly off here and there until he finally succeeds in hitting or wounding his opponent. With the point his, he assumes that he hit because his technique was good, and that he is doing the attack right. He will not attempt to change it, using the most hated sentence in the fencer's vocabulary: Well it worked didn't it?

Fencer 1m however, will try to copy what the teacher does. He will not view the technique, but how it should be applied. Unfortunately, these fencers are often scorned or failed attacks. Fencer 1m should just keep trying until it is a perfect technique. He should realise that he is doing something wrong, but instead of not using it because it isn't working, he should continue to try it; find out why it isn't working, correct himself.

The simple error for beginners is to use their own style initially. Fencers starting the sport should try and follow their teachers, and this includes everything. They need to assume a proper stance, so that they will be able to have a centre of balance, and they need to learn how to adopt, adapt and improve in every technique. To quote from Nick Evangelista:

'Without this, you will always be a poker, never a fencer'

A Change of Scene

Yesterday, instead of attending the N.F.C as per usual, I went to visit another club, which someone had recommended to me. I was a little wary of this, mainly because I wanted to stick with just attending one club. I like the N.F.C. This club, however, was not how I expected it to be. There were only about fifteen members, and they were all quite young. The session got underway with a warm-up, which I was expecting. However, I was not expecting to be continuing with it half an hour later. This is not an exaggeration either! The fencing then got underway, and it was just about free for all. It was basically grab someone, monopolize a piste, and fence away. I was amazed by the standard there. I was probably the only person there who didn't have a ranking. Although I was beaten several times, I managed to score at least two points off everyone, and even win four of my matches. I found it a great experience, but I will stick with the N.F.C. From this, I would say that everyone should break the routine every now and then with a change of scene.

The Graceful Swan

As promised, here is the post on 'the graceful swan'. Fencers who enter into competitions are more often then not, fast movers. They bob around quite a lot, ducking and weaving. At one competition I saw, one fencer was doing just that when I was fencing him. He evidently thought that my firm rooted stance was nowhere near as good as his, obviously better, light of foot technique. He openly laughed as I set off after him, and he sprung backwards lightly. I began to feel slightly annoyed at this point, and I decided to attack. I lunged forward, and simultaneously, my opponent jabbed at me , hitting me on the shoulder. Both of our lights came on at the same time. My opponent turned to the referee, expectantly. It was clear that he was expecting the point.

'The attack is from this side' The referee said, indicating me. My opponent literally screamed 'What?!', and demanded an explanation. This is it:

Fencers should try and be like a swan. Bobbing is all very well, but it turns your lunges into jabs, which makes you draw your arm backwards, instead of an extension. Keeping your feet on the ground, you can still move quickly, but you can control your upper body, keeping your cool. Be like a swan. Be calm in the upper body, fast in the lower body. Make fast one. Silence the other.

Visitors

The N.A.F started again today, and we had a new influx of people. We also had a surprise visitor; Anna Bentley. David often talks about her, and I was naturally pleased to meet her. But I didn't expect David to ask me to fence her. Somehow, I didn't think that I would be fencing the Woman's Foil Champion of Britain. However, it turned out to be very interesting. She was left handed, which didn't surprise me. A lot of people I see at competitions are left-handed (I once had the misfortune of having six out of eight left-handed fencers in one pool). What surprised me though, was her movement. Most competitive fencers are very light on their feet, bobbing around quite a lot. Her movements were light, but not bobby. They were firm on the ground, and yet speedy. I expect that David taught her about the 'graceful swan' some time ago (I will do a post on that one shortly). The fight started, and initially, I was in the lead 2-0. Then she got a few points, and I did as well, making the score then 4-2. Anna then began waiting for me to attack, and hitting me on the back twice with excellently placed parry ripostes. The score was then 4-4. The final point. At this stage in a fight, both fencers are either very tentative, or very aggressive. Anna and I were tentative. We were unsure of what to do, and so I decided to take the initiative. I did a beat attack, which, to my immense surprise, hit. Now, some fencing champions, when they are beaten, get very shirty. The most eventful one I have seen was a few months ago, when the fencer in question screamed in rage, hurled his foil away, and literally ripped his mask off. However, Anna just took her mask off and shook my hand, smiling and telling me that I had done well. To me, that is the attitude that all fencers should have. David obviously taught her well!
When you are fencing, you can either fence to win, or not to lose. When you fence to win, you are hurried, frantic and unfocused. When you fence not to lose, you are relaxed, calculating and focused. However, when I fenced Anna Bentley, I did neither. I just fenced.

Sacrifices

I am in a bit of a problematic stage at the moment. After viewing the techniques of fencers who compete at a national level, I think I have managed to see why they succeed. Some of them are good at attacking on the preperation, while others are good at feint attacks. However, most of them attack simply. The most complicated move I saw at a recent competition was a beat attack. The attacks work, I think, because of the speed and ferocity which they execute. The ferocity in particular, is startling to a fencer like me. It is essentially extend the arm, parry, extend, parry, parry, lunge, all in a matter of two seconds. The problem is this: To achieve victory against these fencers, I may have to match their techniques, become fast and aggressive. Conversely, I do not think I want to. I believe that you do not need speed to beat an opponent; I prefer to use cunning and technique to beat an opponent. I think I lack aggressiveness, though. I don't like to chase a beginner fencer down the piste, it seems to lack honour in some way. Also, if I try to be speedy and agressive, I find that my technique becomes bad, and my lunges aren't powerful or fully formed. I noticed that at the competition, that speedy and agressive fencers are the same; lunges are done with bent knees and with rolled over feet.

This may seem a bit old-fashioned, but I want to retain my technique. I have been taught that good technique is something good. However, I want to do well in competitions, and to do this, I need speed and agressiveness. So, do I stay a technical fencer, ordo I become a fast and furious one? I will think about it...

The Unfettered Orb

In my opinion, you need to have a number of things to succeed in fencing. You need to have commitment, you need to be open-minded, and you need to be determined. Skill, patience and speed will come later, as well as dexterity, control and, most importantly, adaption. Adaption is one of the most important skills a fencer needs to learn. People I know will try a move out, and find that it works on an opponent. However, they wil continue to use this move on different opponents. In a direct elimination at a recent competition, I saw one fencer lunge, and hit his opponent. When they started again, he lunged again, and was instantly parried and riposted. In this situation, I hope I would think Alright, I need another attack. Unfortunately, the fencer in question just kept doing the same attack, and kept getting parry riposted. I think the term, flogging a dead horse is appropriate. The fencer's logic must have been: I hit him with it once, why isn't it working now? The simple answer: He knows what you're going to do.

Fencers should try and be like a ball., always on the move, constantly changing angles and not stopping. If an opponent is beating you, stop and think about the following:

1. Why aren't my attacks working?
2. Why are his attacks working?
3. How do I need to adapt? Is it possible?
4. Do I have a back-up plan if it fails?

In this way, you shall become the unfettered orb.

Respect

I was fencing in a competition in Essex today, which turned out to be suprisingly illuminating. However, I couldn't help but notice one fencer, who obviously thought a lot of himself. After every hit he landed, he would scream out at the top of his voice in what was obviously some fit of ecstasy. While it may be satisfactory to hit with a lunge, I find it very disrespectful to scorn an opponent, even if the hit is brilliant. I also find that not much respect is being shown to anyone on the piste anymore. The ecstatic screaming is just the tip of a very big iceberg. Some fencers are contradicting every hit that is given against them. Asking why the hit wasn't theirs is fine, but effing and blinding at the president for a clear decision is another matter. I was once presiding a normal fencing match, and the following happened:

1. Fencer A attacked.
2. Fencer B parried, but didn't riposte immediately.
3. Fencer A continued the attack, and hit.
4. Fencer B riposted and hit.
5. Both fencer's hits registered at the same time.

I thought about it, but eventually awarded the point to fencer A. Although a parry riposte grants you right of way, it can only be awarded, if the riposte is immediate. Therefore, fencer A seized priority by continuing his attack into the delayed riposte. I told them of my decision, and fencer B didn't take it very well. He ripped off his mask, and demanded that I phrase the attacks. I explained to him my reasons behind the decision, and eventually, he put his mask back on, and walked back on to the piste, grumbling as he went.

I can't respect anyone who accosts the referee for making the 'wrong decision', anyone who tries to scrape points together by accosting the referee, or anyone who refuses to acknowledge a clear hit.

Introductions

My name is Chris Seaman, and I am a fencer from Norwich. I captain the Norfolk Academy of Fencing, and I intend to tell the world about the sport of fencing. I must note that there are other fencing blogs that are worth looking at. There is Autumn Lighting, by my fencing coach, David, and there is a link to Musings of a Warrior from there, written by Robert Page, friend and coach. Both are well worth a look. On this blog, I will list some of my experiences and lessons which I have learnt, and I hope people out there will read my thoughts and perhaps comment on them.