Wear and Tear

9th September 2023, White Belt Diaries IV

The scream was unlike anything I’d heard in a long time. It rang out across the mats with a guttural agony. Everyone in the room froze immediately, our heads whipping towards the sound of the wail. The scream seemed to go on and on and on – it was not an immediate shout of pain, but a rolling cry of prolonged agony. I dashed over to pull a classmate off the evidently injured sparring partner. The guy lay there, teeth clenched hard, eyes clamped shut, his hand hovered over his right shoulder as he lay on the mat. I shouted for some ice, fearing he’d ripped something in his shoulder, but getting closer I could hear him spit out the word ‘dislocated’. 

The class that morning had been a little looser than usual. The pattern of the GB1 (beginner) class is usually fairly consistent: after warming up we gently drill some wrestling takedowns; we learn and rehearse a new technique or two; finally we pracitce the technique in live ‘specifics’ – aka a mini sparring contest starting from a fixed position. Now specifics can get a little tasty sometimes, but as they are limited in scope to what you’re trying to practice, it never gets too crazy and curbs the flailing tendencies of us beginners. This class, however, the instructor had decided to do a few different things beyond the usual.  

Firstly, we’d done wrestling sparring. Now if there is anything to turn up the temperature and testosterone in white belts, it’s wrestling. Most have little to no technical wrestling ability (passed what we learnt ‘downing’ people in the playground at school). It involves slamming one another on the mat. It usually it devolves into a brute strength contest.  

Secondly, as we hadn’t been getting a concept with a particular guard passing technique, the brown belt taking the class had tried to do a drill to demonstrate the subtlety of the move. He turned it into a little competition – but it involved some wrestling from the knees and landing on your partner.  

The combination of i) wild, flailing white belts who had ii) their testorone up due to wrestling like maniacs doing a iii) drill that involved a competition and iv) landing on your opponent was, in retrospect, one that could easily lead to an injury. And it did, unfortunately. 

As quickly as the scream had started, it stops. With a pop, the shoulder is popped back in. Immediately afterwards, the injured classmate seemed cheery, fairly upbeat, even if a little shellshocked. The rest of us continued the class in muted fashion, while he sat and recovered off the mat. I walked with him part of the way home after the class and he was stoic and philosophical about the injury. He knew he would have to take some time off, he took it on board as a lesson in not letting ego get into the practice, it wasn’t the first time he’d injured the shoulder. I was impressed (to say the least) with his calm demeanour – we parted ways with a handshake and a promise to recommend him a physio if he needed one. 

But the incident lingered with me for days afterwards. It left a terrible taste in the mouth. It left me questioning why I even do the sport.  

I’m not old, but I’m certainly not young anymore. My only regret with jiu jitsu is that I didn’t start earlier in life. The last few months have been fun, but my own, admittedly much milder, injuries have stacked up. I practise kimuras and my shoulder is a wreck for weeks. The first time I experience a rear naked choke class, I’m left with one of the worst sore throats I’ve had. A seemingly unbroken chain of bruises, cuts, black eyes, muscles strains, and busted lips have lined up over the last few months. I’m 33 – I don’t need to be doing this. I don’t need the pain, the injury, the sleeplessness as I turn in the night onto my injured forearm. And I certainly I don’t need to be the one screaming out on the mat in agony. 

The whole episode is a stark lesson. I’m starting to realise that this is a martial art, a combat sport. Part of the process is going to be getting hurt. But at my age I need to recognise I can’t take the sort of risks someone who is younger can. It teaches me to be cautious, to take things carefully, to manage the wear and tear as best as I can, so that I can stay on the mat learning as much as possible.  

And when I feel my blood rising in a sparring session or specifics, I check my ego immediately with the memory of that scream.