Hello chums, long time no scribble. I was going to start by asking how you are, how the family is etc. but the logistics just don’t work out that well. Plus, I feign interest enough on a day to day basis with the droves of absolute fucking dafties that I happen to surround myself with – let’s no repeat that pattern on here as well. I’ll be polite enough to say, I hope you’re well (whether I mean it is a different story).
I’ve had a few people ask me why I don’t tend to my literary garden anymore, and it’s simply because I lack inspiration. When things are flowing well, the garden is rich with minerals, nutrients & the elixer of life, wasser – when it’s not, it’s simply left to rot. That’s a wee metaphor for the quicker in the room, I’ll re-explain for the slower. Essentially, when my Jiu-Jitsu is going well – I can write about it for days. So, my dear Watson – you can deduce with all your wits, guile & savvy that it might not have been going so swimmingly of late.
I’m still playing catchup from the last few years. I’m behind the curve, and I’ll be the first to admit the lazy grappler of yesteryear would probably kick my cunt in, regardless of the bit of fabric that is slung around my waist. There was a time at late purple, early brown when I believed for a single fleeting moment that I might actually be no half bad at all this nonsense. If there was ever a goal now, it’s to try and get back to that.
White to black should be a story about making less mistakes over time. What a novelty that would be. I think I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my approach to Jiu-Jitsu, but the most detrimental one is likely teaching too early in the game. I was able to get away with it for a long while, because I was still developing my own game by attending classes regularly, etc. but the bias slipped far too heavily into the teacher/coach role, and I found my progress become deathly still. Locked in stasis for who knows how long. Add to that a lengthy hiatus or three and before you know it, you’re drowning every time you try to take a drink of that sweet sweet grappling nectar. That is not a request to be smothered in the bossom of another man.
Quite simply, I’ve lost my mojo baby. I’ve lost the beat of the song halfway through & this shit just ain’t jazz – so I can’t even just style it out and pretend it was a saucy interlude. The wheels simply do not spin the way they used to, so I need to buck up my ideas and make a change. I’M TALKIN’ TO THE MAN IN THE MIRROR.
Going forward, my focus is going to have to be on litle old darling me. Drilling, positional sparring & sparring the three tenets of the holy book of Helio. I’ll skip the diet though, kebabs & bourbon for life. I’m currently doing all the wrongs things when I’m rolling. Linear in my approach. Shitey timing. A basic little bitch. So I’d quite like to try and get back to just being a horrible cunt to roll with. Feared & revered. I’m ready to put a pin in the whole teacher/coach thing for a while (I’ll still cover classes and that if asked). At least until I can get some semblance of self back.
I’m also a big fat greasy bastard at the moment. 88.5KG this fucking morning. So that needs smacked in the dick as well. I fear the day has come where auld speccy fucked eyes is going to have to start shiftin’ tin. Fuckin’ fuck sake.
Hopefully the next time I scrawl some pish on this very page, it’ll read a little more positively. I assure you though, this comes from a good place. I’m just a bit tired of crying in the shower after every time I train.
On October 9th 2022 I completed the best game I’ve ever played, saved my progress and readied myself to start all over again on New Game+. Sure the difficulty will be different, some of the baddies have also levelled up and there’s some things I missed the first time around; but I’ve got all that juicy experience now – I’ve played this game before and I’m going back in with a few tricks up my sleeve. Ya boy has prestiged, baby.
For those of you in the room that haven’t wasted countless hours of your life playing computer games (fucking weirdos), I’ll explain what that rambling guff means. My longtime coach, mentor & friend David Speedy Elliot awarded me my black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I know I could have just said that in the first place, but I’m trying to captivate an audience here. Literally tens of people may read this.
Now granted October 9th was quite a while ago, so what’s been the hold up on writing this? It was very much a where to bloody start thing. I’ve written and re-written this so many times it’s actually maddening, to the point where I had to step away and start again. And again. And again. Sometimes writing is easy, sometimes you turn into George R. R. Martin and delete more than you write. Now I’m not saying that these posts are anywhere near the level of Game of Thrones, because let’s face – Game of Thrones is an absolute lot of shite. I’d be doing pretty well to be considered in that regard.
Let’s go on a wee journey, before I speak about the big day and the people & places that helped get me there. Had to get the word journey in somewhere, as it’s a staple of the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu vocabularly. JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL, LIVIN’ IN A LONELY WORLD. TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN’ ANYWHERRRRRRE.
In 2010, Dundee’s Gi scene was simply Judo, Japanese JuJitsu & Karate. Now I’m not going to shit on any other martial arts, because that’s not my style and I’ll remind you to do the same. Actually why don’t you take a wee moment to yourself and think about how many swordsmen actually roam around the streets that you comfortably canter on. You’ll be hard pressed to find any! God forbid someone DARED to unsheath a katana in the city centre; they’d be disarmed, folded up and sent packing by a 70 year old man with a heavy drinking problem that has studied the way of the Samurai so fluidly that you’d never even be able to comprehend that level of dedication in your entire feeble little existence. His silken tongue spits ink blotted subtitled Kanji into the sky as he lets out a roaring battlecry, lights a cigarette and shuffles away in a dirty kimono to the nearest Farmfoods for his weekly shoppin’. It isn’t the police that are keeping you safe, it’s these vigilantes. Those traditional martial artists keep the riff raff out and just you fucking remember that you butt scooting son of bitch. YOU LISTEN TO ME BUCKO – woah, I blacked out for a wee moment there. What was I saying?
2010 was a very different time. Dundee Mixed Martial Arts had just opened and what they offered was a striking, NoGi & MMA classes. They added in wrestling, sambo, boxing, kickboxing & Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu at later stages. Also, I should probably clarify that when I say Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu I mean the way our good lord and saviour Helio Gracie intended. In the Gi you motherfuckers. I’m not saying that NoGi isn’t Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, but we all know in our hearts what the right way to do things is and what the wrong way to do things is. The right way doesn’t throw up gang signs and wear spats. Eddie Brah has a lot to answer for.
Back then the landscape was very different to how it is now. Let me tell you, Scotland used to be all hills when I was a lad. Ohohoho. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu definitely existed in Scotland back then, but it was nowhere near as well known or as readily available. Between rounding up sheep, drinking ourselves blind & riding highland coos to work – there was already people practicing this wonderful grappling art at multiple clubs around the country. They were just a lot further spread out. Back then though, it felt like a bit of a dirty secret. Things are a lot easier to explain nowadays with MMA being fucking huge thanks to old Tomatohead’s domination with the UFC. People now have a far better reference point than Ground Judo or Wrestling with Jammies on when explaining what it is we do. To keep things simple, I’d tell people I was basically training to be the next Chris Benoit without the grisly ending. I’m going to be the next champion of the friggin’ world! I’d considered writing a who’s who of Scotland’s Jiu-Jitsu A-List back then, but I’d miss someone out and that would be it – my name would be marked going forward. Barry the fucking Bastard. Auld black mark Baz. You’re no getting in here with those trainers on, you piece of shit. You’re clearly steaming! The chances are that if they’re an upper belt now, then they were on the scene back then, when it all began for little old me. Unless they’re some sort of phenom/grappling savant, in which case fuck you. Fuck you and your good Jiu-Jitsu.
When I started this pyjama party, all I really wanted to do was get good enough at it so that I could hopefully encourage more people to do it. I was a lot more focused on other people’s progress, than my own. Over the years, the black belt discussion would have been centred on people that I knew who were getting close – rather than wherever the I was. I have always been happy enough just being on the mats, regardless of what was wrapped around my waist or tossed to the side when it inevitably comes loose in a spicy roll. From day one though, when I put a gi on and had that first daft roll about with some mates – I knew this was my jam. Early on it was obvious that I’d likely be doing this for the rest of my days. CHILLING OUT, MAXIN’ RELAXIN’ ALL COOL.
DMMA weren’t fucking about in trying to establish themselves as a place to be in Dundee. Their first seminar was actually Big Boaby Drysdale, who at the time I didn’t really know or care how good he was. I just knew the coaches were keen, so I should probably go. Plus it was about £35. Thinking back, having a former ADCC champion land in bloody Dundee as your first experience of high level Jiu-Jitsu is a pretty big deal, but I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Marcelo at ADCC. “The human body was not designed for Jiu-Jitsu. Let’s begin.” – How Boab actually started the seminar. That’s pretty cool.
Not long after, seminar number two was up. This one would forever change my wee life going forward. Speedy Elliot came to Dundee after meeting a few of the coaches at an MMA show or something. He’d agreed to do a BJJ for MMA seminar and I just happened to go even though I was no longer really entertaining the MMA idea. I liked to train it, but I was never going to be a fighter. I’d absolutely be on someone’s KO highlight reel. Fuck that noise. It was clear quickly that Speedy was an excellent coach, and could nurture those willing to learn. A few of us were convinced that there was something in this Jiu-Jitsu stuff, and whilst we were still going to train NoGi as well – we should buy gis and start training either at open mats or privately on a Sunday. At that time, we looked like weirdos (we still do to the gen’ pop’). Some people took that weirdo thing to a whole new level though. One even bought a bright red Gi. What an absolute prick that guy was.
Those Saturday/Sunday Gi sessions were instrumental in whatever technique base I likely have now. So if you think I’m shite, blame The Billy for taking me through the basics & Grant for being the training partner I practiced those basics on. As you reflect in your auld age, you realise how thankful you should be for those sessions. That was the start. In those days it was more often than not just myself, The Billy & Grant. Occasionally we’d be joined by my old manager Chris, or someone else half-keen to dip their toes in. The Billy is an exceptional coach, with more knowledge than most will ever know. People quickly forget that he can smack a puss or two as well as rip yer jaiket aff and de-breek you. It’s weird to think back on, because whilst The Billy was already a blue belt under August Wallen (Shooters MMA) – when we started these sessions, we likely didn’t think it would go anywhere other than what we were doing there and then.
In November of that year after a few months of training ourselves; The Billy, Grant and myself took our first trip together to see Speedy in Newcastle. I don’t think I’ve been to a colder place in my entire fucking life than the old Wallsend Boys Club. We were ushered into a dimly lit room upstairs, past the youths playing football loudly. I can almost feel the sting of the freezing cold Judo Tatami on my wee tootsies. There was a bench along one wall where a bunch of Speedy’s guys sat and welcomed us. Our first class was on kneebars. It was brilliant. Afterwards I remember rolling with Speedy’s son Tyrone, who was a small fifteen year old child green belt – he beat the absolute fucking shit out of me. I then rolled with one of Speedy’s brown belts, Ian. He was smaller than Tyrone and I physically couldn’t move him. What I felt in that room on that very day, seemed like magic. If I’d had any doubts before, they would have been squashed there and then. I wanted a piece of that magic and was ready to make a deal with the devil for it. I’M THE DEVIL, I LOVE METAL.
The next couple of years were either us going down to Speedy’s or him coming up to us, each time we’d be teased with a new slew of tricks to play with to expand our ever growing tool belt. Things started to grow organically here and whilst we were still considered the Gi weirdos in the club – people started to gradually take notice. It helped that the likes of Euan Sloane, Paul Patrick & Scott Malone were joining in on the fun All veteran Martial Artists in their own rights even back then. Those early sessions were tough, but great fun. Even the times when it was just Grant and I training, we’d make sure to drill techniques to absolute exhaustion, whilst laughing about some absolute fucking nonsense.
Once The Billy got his purple belt from Speedy, he agreed to start finally teaching BJJ at DMMA instead of doing his NoGi classes. The Billy’s a stubborn auld traditional fuck, so he is. Refused to officially teach before he was at least considered a decent grade – I don’t think anyone would have had a problem learning earlier to be honest, but if there’s one things nearly 13 years of The Billy has taught me, it’s that he’s no right in the haed. So you can’t really reason with him, or convince him that he is actually pretty good at this stuff. What you have to do is piss him off when you’re rolling with him, and suddenly he picks it up a bit and you’re in for a world of hurt. Prison rules. Finally, we had a gi scene that wasn’t just 70 year old pissheads jostling swords out of people’s hands. DMMA was the birthplace of Dundee’s BJJ really. What started as a few chums running with an idea and driving down to Noocassle in my wee fartbox Corsa is now a fairly healthy city for thon Jiu-Jitsu. Dundee now comes with four flavours of BJJ. There’s DMMA (The Billy), Origin Jiu-Jitsu Scotland (Grant Cruickshank), Gracie Barra Dundee (Valentine Duke) & Catch 22 (Shaughn Vos). It doesn’t matter which door you knock on, you’re going to get some top quality training at any of them.
Back to October 9th. Originally Marc Walder was due to come up to Origin Jiu-Jitsu Scotland for a seminar, but could no longer make it. Luckily one of his black belts by the name of Speedy offered to cover. I hadn’t seen Speedy in a couple of months so was looking forward to this. The seminar was great. Full of good technique, ukes getting fucked up during demos & most importnatly the room was filled with laughter. It was a cool day. At the end of the seminar it was time for a couple of gradings. I’d already spoke to Grant about who would be up. Cookie and Flynn were getting their blue belts. This was really cool to see because Flynn has been training since he was just a tiny little thing. Y’know before he grew a mullet, developed a stinking attitude and a propensity to talk back. Typical yoof. Cookie has been training years, but has really kicked it into gear this last year or so and has come on leaps and bounds. Seeing both get their well deserved bump up the ladder was wonderful. It’s a special wee thing sharing in that moment. Seeing team mates get recognised for their efforts. I love it.
At this point I figured it was about time to say our goodbyes and crack on up the road for a succulent Chinese meal (GET YOUR HAND OFF OF MY PENIS – I see you know your judo well), but Speedy wasn’t done. He took a moment to talk about how difficult it can be taking time off of training, when other people are still able to. He talked about how long some people in the room had been doing this, their technique, attitude etc and how one person in particular had been deserving of grading up for a while now. In moments like that you know there’s a possibility that it’ll be your name, but there’s also a possibility it could be anyone else in the room. Being the speccy hoor that I am, I tried to ignore the fact that Sharon was pointing her phone in my direction. It felt big. It felt like Speedy was talking about me and to me. He called my name. Somehow, I managed to stay composed and not burst into floods of tears and just enjoy the moment. Stoic but happy. It’s a strange thing, seeing the faces of your training partners, team mates, peers and instructors all be happy for you at the same time. I could see the pride in The Billy & Grant’s faces to have me stand up there with them, when I started with them all those years ago. The absolute happiness that both Ritu & Speedy had for me as well, as I’m added to the list of Speedy’s black belts. Looking back at the room and seeing friends that have come to this semianr specifically just because they had an inkling that today was that day. It was very special and a day I won’t soon forget.
Speedy then went on to speak about the struggles that another person had been through in their own life, how close they’ve become with that person and how it was his time to ascending into grappling god status just like myself. Paul Patrick was up next to receive his black belt. Wonderfully Speedy & Ritu had arranged for Paul’s family to come in and witness this. I don’t think there’s a nicer guy I could have been bumped up with. He’s a gentleman on and off the mats, and his Borat impression is an absolute treat that you must ask him to do if you meet him. You’ll genuinely question whether he’s ever seen the movie.
Afterwards there was photos, cake & just general good times until the day was done. I was grateful to have been a part of it, but I couldn’t have gotten there without so many people along the way. I’m a big fan of Simon Hayes’ philosophy on hidden lineage. Respecting not only your coaches for getting you where you are, but the training partners that have helped you along the way. So if we’ve bumped fists & had a roll about, thank you. Even if you mashed me up, or were a complete prick it’s all forward momentum in some way. In later years you find yourself learning not only from training partners, but from students as well. It’s a testament to how far things have come in the short time that I’ve been training, but a blue belt then and a blue belt now are not the same thing. Shit’s evolved, and I’ll happily steal techniques from anyone on the mats as long as I can make it work. Not every day on the mats was my best, but I always came back – do the same and one day you’re very likely to be where I am now – baffled by how the fuck you’re a black belt, but happy with it nonetheless. Some day I’ll be giving out black belts. How fucking mental is that?
I’d be a top tier prick if I didn’t mention my three homes over the years. I’ve split my time between DMMA, Origin Jiu-Jitsu Scotland and the Inchture Grappling Club (now defunct). In each of them I have been lucky enough to be a student and a coach. Without those places & the people in them, I am nothing but a mortal man.
Toodles.
The Billy, Ritu, myself, Speedy, Paul & Grant – October 9th, 2022.
It’s a long and painful process, on the slow meteoric rise from complete spasticity to smooth flowing grappling groove. If you’re an everyman, that is. Phenoms are excluded, because they just get it.
You’ll slowly shift from being one of the guys that drills techniques millions of times to understand them, to nailing them first time; refining them very quickly and throwing it into your game like some sort of wizard. With that new found knowledge, you’re able to revisit moves you just didn’t get when you were say a white belt (or if you’re into that NoGi shite, I dunno a board short wearer?) – because now you’re filled to the gunnels with that sweet delicious wisdom, and those moves that were once so elaborate are now as easy as destroying a birthday BBQ by defecating in the kid’s paddling pool. Sweet.
Grappling, Submission Wrestling, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu or whatever flavour you decide on – is at its core, understanding movement. It’s all well and good knowing how to do an armbar or a triangle, or whatever sexy hundred year old technique you think you’re reinventing by attacking from a slightly different position – but again, I will re-iterate this is simply understanding movement. Yours and theirs.
The biggest hurdle we all have in the early days is understanding our limitations, and how to work around them. This is a game less about flexibility and more about mobility. The trick here is to work that shit out early, and build a game around it. If you crack the mobility code, then people will think you’re more flexible than you are because you’re moving properly within your own limitations.
Where things get tricky is absence. They say it makes the heart grow fonder, but what it actually does is allow everyone you know to level up whilst you’re sitting, rotting, decomposing, drinking, drugging, shrugging, mean mugging and generally being a layabout piece of fucking shit.
The adjustment when you come back is not a fun one. The people that you once tooled are no longer so easy to smack about like the little bitches they once were. You’re fat now. You’re unfit now. Your timing is all to fuck and your body isn’t moving the way it used to. You’ve picked the wrong potion from your inventory and instead of getting a health boost, or a stamina boost or something that’s actually fucking useful – you’ve realised the potion is Wild Turkey 101 and you’re just praying to Odin that you didn’t drive here this evening.
I’m currently trying to get myself back to where I was, but it’s a bizarre process of your mind cashing cheques your body simply cannot pay. I’m not some grappling genius or any of that shit, far from it – but currently my brain is operating far faster than my body is. I know the moves, I’ve done the moves but by crumbs is it tricky when peope are trying to do moves to me, when I’m trying to do the moves. That’s grappling though. I used to be able to style on cunts like they were made of soft cheese.
Currently I’m really good at this stuff on a non-resisting opponent, but frankly that’s not going to cement my legacy is it? “He’s a good coach, but he rolls like a he had a lobotamy for breakfast.”
I’m a supposed brown belt. I’ve been at this a long time, and I know I’ll get my shit together quick and be back to scooping up armbars like they’re delicious ice cream, but the point of this post is to let you know that no-one is immune from the perils of time off. You might get injured, sick or have to take some time away from the mats because of something out of your control.
If you have time off, it may not be so easy to come back – and when you do come back, it may still not be easy. Do not be deterred. Keep at it. Don’t quit.
This has been a public service announcement, to remind those of you that have trained and are on the fence about coming back, just fucking do it. If you time it well enough, you’ll actually give me a doing whilst I’m in this fuck about, useless slug stage that I’m at currently. I can’t promise that I’ll stay there for long, but I can promise that I’ll probably help you out of that stage if/when you go through it too. I’m a gentleman like that. Call me Gentleman Jack if you want. Another of my tipples of choice.
Welcome to neither here nor there. An update on my status as Dundee’s most sought after BJJ coach (I’ve had like four messages – two from Jamie, and two from Sean. I love you both). This got a bit more personal than I intended, but sometimes you just have to let the cup spill.
In February/March last year, the western world got wind of a new respitory disease and fully shat the bed (we know now that virus had originated in 2019, but the information was suppressed for funsies). Britain being the arrogant little cunt place that it is, decided to fight fire with some good old fashioned unleaded petrol. The government demonstrated a pandemic preparedness that’ll be looked back on in years to come and ripped apart for it’s shambolic and often flimsy efforts. Of course none of them will pay for their ineptitude, but we’ll certainly remember this one for years to come. It will haunt us as a nation. Regardless of how divided we are. Let’s not get into the fact that Britain is a fucking Island, and if we weren’t so fucking pig ignorant we could have adopted a similar model to Australia or New Zealand to keep this virus at bay, and y’know have semi-fucking-normal lives whilst the rest of the world flaps its arms about in constant panic. We shouldn’t have been the ones panicking.
It’s September 2021 now. You know how the story goes. Between March 2020 and right this very second, Great Britannia has employed a number of varying restrictions in a bid to sorta kinda try to maybe quell this virus’ thirst for blood. There’s been some wholly confusing guidelines by a bunch of the most unhealthy looking fuckheads you’ve ever seen in your life. Fucking BoJo telling anyone to try and live a more healthy life when he looks like a cross between Wurzel Gummage and a smashed packet of Richmond Sausages is an irony none of us need to fucking hear. Spoon fed butter guzzling prick of a laddie.
Needless to say, the restrictions aren’t what they were – so we have this false notion that we’re coming out of the other end (it’s not the end, we’re nowhere near). This just isn’t a good place to be anymore. ‘R FREDUMS’ as the illiterate among us would say have been stripped in a way that we don’t fully understand yet. There’s a health crisis that isn’t being acknowledged by the upper brass that have created it. Countless physical and mental health problems in various flavours, whether pre-existing or brand new are getting ignored, pushed back and just aren’t getting the treatment they require. This bullshit should not have played out the way it did.
I should probably take a moment, let the fire in my belly settle and re-focus on what we’re here for. I’ve made it no secret to those close to me, and a few not so close people that this whole Covid stuff has been pish on a personal level – and I’m fortunate enough that I haven’t yet caught the bastard. The width of the virus is so ridiculous that I’ve known people that have had what seems like a basic cold, and people that have ended up in hospital on oxygen. I had to completely close up shop on the Jiu-Jitsu arc of my story, without any real indication of when it would continue. That has been weird, and it has sucked a fat one (and I don’t mean that sweet Mary Jane). I did not do especially well during lockdown. Vices were explored.
Before all this Covid nonsense, I was still very much in a grief bubble – trying to get through each day as it came. I had a series of deaths in a fairly short span of time, and likely didnt allow myself to process any of them properly. The hardest hitting of which was my dad. He was out for a lesiurely run on his motorbike one Friday afternoon and was killed by another driver who just wasn’t paying attention to the road, taking a sharp and completely inappropriate turn across his path. It’s been to court, he pleaded guilty and was banned from driving for 12 months. He tried to write a letter of apology to my family, but there are things you can apologise for and there are things you can’t. Farting in a lift is one of them. Accidentally killing a person is not. Shock makes you do really weird things in the momens, that looking back on I definitely would have done differently. I didn’t cancel my class that night, although plenty had reached out to me and recommended that I should. I grabbed my good pal Grant and taught anyway. It just wasn’t real. And then it was. Things hit properly when I got back from class and collected my thoughts. I ached all over for weeks. I still go numb when I think about what happened or the fact I’ll never see him again. It becomes completely overwhelming. I find being alone insufferable because it becomes all I think about. There are of course good happy memories in there, but that still manages to be painful because there are no more to be had. He was meant to outlive us all. That was three months after my gran passed and six months before my grandad. Needless to say I wasn’t really prepared for how fucking shit 2020 was going to be, even though I’d already declared 2019 the shittest year in the history of everything. Pandemics are a pause button for whatever shit you’re dealing with at the time. There’s a big picture to think about, but the joy of grief is that you don’t get to decide when it’s unpaused.
Lending a bit of much needed diplomacy here, I am not the centre of the universe – as much as it pains me. I have vulnerable people in my life and their health & wellbeing is important to me. I’m not one of these people that can comfortably run about licking everything in sight because I’m probably going to fine. I have to make sure they’re fine too. That’s not to say that I’m a pillar of humanhood. I’ve got IBS that would have most fine establishments ban me for life (there’s a wee pub on the way back from Newcastle that I can never set foot in again – that embarrassingly is my choice, although I’m sure it would be theirs too, in dealing with the aftermath. Think Dogma, starring Chris Rock, Matt Damon & Ben Affleck). My mental health has been a right old laugh for years now. I’m a fairly angry & often miserable person, always have been. It’s part of my charm. Then there’s the grief, bouts of depression, silly anxieties and each wanting to take centre stage at any given time. I typically managed (ignored) these by training or coaching frequently and often. It’s not really dealing with the issues in hand, but it was what I knew and it was working for the most part. If I had a bad day, I could always dip out of training or coaching and let someone else steer the ship. Smash a succulent chinese meal down my gullet, watch a movie or play some good old fashioned video games. Something other than catering to the every whim of another forever white belt that just will not do what you’ve demonstrated, explained or physically guided them to do. You make me sick. Fuck you, you nameless little shitcunt.
So where do we find ourselves now? Well, for the most part the world as we know it is sort of back to normal – bar a few remaining restrictions. Masks in public places, certain venue restrictions, covid passports, and a few other shitty little inconvenient things. Most of us can go out and do whatever we please, so it’s not actually that bad anymore. Where do I find myself? Well, a sort of limbo I guess. I’m grossly unfit – although that’s something that will start to come back in time. I’m likely healthy enough that this virus shouldn’t do a number on me. Although let’s not stay ignorant to the fact that the younger among us are at risk of long-covid (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). That is not a recipe I would like my body to cook up. With my vulnerable ones in mind, I’m still very much ‘in it’ currently. I keep an eye on daily case numbers. I’m trying to see what direction this thing is trending, to see when this fucking thing will properly plateau. Cases will rise, they’re going to be there until reporting finally ceases – whenever that is. Cases not levelling out is a different story altogether and that’s what determines how quickly I’ll get my life on track. My contact with others has been limited the whole time – I visited my mum PROPERLY the other week. We had food together, like you’re meant to. I also got to see her new hoose. She’d had it for ages. It’s a weird thing spending so much time away from a loved one, as she’s a gem. My close friends have been there from afar, doing their best to understand the circumstances – I’m sure they’ve wanted to grab a hold of me and strangle the shit out of me, as only a friend would but I just haven’t allowed it. I’ll be in their debt for years to come. I love them for tolerating me.
Since things have opened back up in July, I’ve been looking at the clubs I trained & coached at as little labs for Covid. The people that train there are the test subjects – let’s call them guinea pigs, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t add a bit of cunt to the situation. Surprisingly there haven’t been as many outbreaks as you’d expect, which is good. For the most part I want to stay optimistic and assume people are being vigilant, but people can and will be selfish yo. Some people are just being ignorant to Covid, or simply don’t care. There have been two cases at the main club, and none at the other. Whilst they’re very separate clubs, people have been known to train at both. So steps are being attempted to try and stop the spread. There are Scottish Government Guidelines in place for all training facilities, venues, etc. If you come into contact with someone that you know to have tested positive for Covid, you should isolate and do a PCR test. The official line doesn’t really align with what has been recommended by the people that developed the tests. When that PCR test is taken in relation to contact is important. If you come into contact with someone on a Monday, you shouldn’t be doing a PCR test until Thursday or Friday at the earliest – to allow the virus to pass the latent stage (non-infectious). A lateral flow can be used in the interim, if the lateral flow is picking up a positive result – you’re likely fucked because they’re less reliable than PCR tests. If you’re going the PCR route, you need to be at that infectious stage of the virus for the PCR test to even pick it up. Whether you present symptoms or not doesn’t really matter, you could still be spreading a virus to someone that would get symptoms and therein lies the crapshoot. Guidance given from the upper brass is exactly what you’d expect at this stage. We’re still living in doubt because of how we’re being lead. None of us are invincible. We’re all guilty of it at some point. Being honest, if I didn’t have vulnerble people in my life – I would have thrown caution to the wind and never stopped training way back when. I’d luck out though and either end up being a long-covid sufferer, or would have died early doors for some underlying health issue that I’m not aware of, just to fit the died with covid – not of covid narrative that seems to be so popular in the current climate.
This is where the limbo bit really sinks in. I recently started training again, it’s just a little one to one with another training partner that is happy to train in a bubble for now. David you are a diamond. I’m only charging him £100 an hour as well. We’ll continue to train a few times a week until things stabilise/normalise/whateverthefuckalise. It has been a rough experience to say the least. The first session back was total bullshit. I was so fucking sore afterwards it was ridiculous. My mobility, flexibility etc is wrecked. Not that I was able to before, but let’s just say if I wanted to then I can no longer suck my own dick. Inversion is a nightmare again! My ability to string things together is all out of whack. My knowledge and ability aren’t in sync at the moment (not that they ever were). It’s frustrating and very difficult. I’m hoping that it doesn’t set me back for too long, but I legit feel straight up stupid on the mats currently. Thankfully David’s there to make me feel a good bit better about myself. He’s every bit like an old tabby. His best years are behind him, but he still tries to jump up onto the counter when he sees a saucer of milk. Sometimes he makes it, sometimes he doesn’t. Bless. It’s good to be back in a way, but it’s not the same as hurling abuse at my wee pal Min Goo in front of a class for being different. That’s one of the things I miss the most. Being horrible to the nicest guy in the fucking world. I can’t go back to classes yet, at least until everyone in my life is comfortable with it. When they are, it’s all steam ahead. I’ll be tonguing the mats, dirty gis, belts, faces, doorknobs – I don’t care. I’m a lifer. Regardless of hurdles, stumbling blocks, whatever.
Beyond my very doorstep, I’d like to visit some other gyms too. I’ve got pals across the the country that I’d like to train with/against. I’ve been playing Warzone with my pal Neil for over a bloody year now (we are pish). He used to train in Dundee back in the day. He’s a brown belt at Higher Level now, so naturally I need to drop in and see what they’re all about and whether it’s just COD I’m better than him at – or whether he still has my number on the mats (it’s 100% going to be this option, as he was a fucking nightmare when he trained with us). I’ve spent too long being comfortable in Jiu-Jitsu, living in a bubble even pre-pandemic. I need to get back to getting my arse kicked by those closest to me, and the farthest reaches of the land. I might even get to dish out a few arse kickings myself. I have a shitlist of tosspots that are getting it. YEW WANT SUM? The hope is to gradually introduce more (doubly vaccinated) training partners, make this realm between normal and not-so-normal a bit more bearable and then take up the mantle of most revered coach in the history of Dundee again. Or just another dick trying to teach Jiu-Jitsu to a room full of pricks. Whichever title works, really.
I think that’s a wrap. I’ve sounded off for long enough, I’ve brought you up to speed on some of the absolute fucking dogshit that lies between my ears. If you’ve gotten this far, have a biscuit. If you disagree with any of it, feel the need to sound off or whatever – I believe there’s an 18 month waiting list on the NHS for counselling.
Hello again friends. A rather portly friend of mine literally begged me to do another one of these. I’ll not name names, but it rhymes with Boney. It’s been too long (almost a year in fact). So I figured I’d dust off the old typewriter, and see what flows out. The answer of course is a load of old shite that probably doesn’t make any sense at all – but hey, it’s been therapeutic regardless. No harm, no foul.
Last year didn’t exactly close well for me, and this year hasn’t exactly started well. The world as I know it has unraveled, and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to manage that. I have been filled with a weighty pain ever since my dad died. I’ve tried to manage that as best I can by having what I deem to be a normal life. My normal isn’t exactly remarkable, but it works for me. I work. I train. I chill. That’s it. Sure there’s other little things that ease the thick black tar that surrounds my heart, but for the most part I’m very set in my routine. I work a lot, but it’s manageable because I train a good bit too. This helps to work out any tension that’s there from the weekly rat race. I then have some downtime to manage any aches and pains from training. It’s a simple and often flawed system, but it works. Coaching fits in somewhere too, and allows me to take focus off of myself and try and better others.
I’ve found that dealing with the loss of a loved one really is all about distraction in moderation. Knowing when to do something, and when not to. The pain will always be there, but it’s how you manage that pain that’s important. I’m not able to manage that pain as well anymore. I work from home, I chill at home and I no longer train. The days have all become one long miserable blur. Pre-BJJ I would have thought this was the life. Barry the wee couch potato would be in his wee skinny/fat element, playing Xbox and avoiding the world forever. Not now though, I fucking hate it.
I haven’t trained since March 8th, which for a so called lazy grappler is actually the longest I’ve been without training in the entire time I’ve done this funny old thing. That includes injuries. It’s a pretty stark contrast to my ‘normal’ routine. I did a Gi class in the morning at Grant’s, followed by a NoGi seminar in the afternoon at DMMA (thon Raspberry Ape no less). It was a really bloody good day. I didn’t know it’d be my last day training for the foreseeable future.
Y’see, it was around about that time that some creepy little virus started to take the UK by storm. The media prior to this decided to just have a good old chuckle at China. Silly media. Before you know it, like the latest hot new pop sensation, everyone was talking about it. I pre-empted the shit hitting the fan here and decided to take a week or two off to see how things were going to play out (any excuse eh). This was less to do with my own health, and more to do with the health of some loved ones. Given half the chance, I would never stop training. It completes me like that laddie completed the other laddie in Brokeback Mountain. By god did he complete him. Over and over again. The plan was for Covid to fuck off forever, but I’d still have gotten some much needed down time before getting back after it. The government decided that wasn’t to be. Jiu-Jitsu was well and truly fucked, not just for me – but for everyone (that plays by the rules). It’s now approaching November and we’re really no further forward. Scientists and politicians just don’t mix well. It makes you wonder why we have bred politicians from families of politicians, taught in schools to create politicians instead of getting people to run the country that are actually educated in something that isn’t lies, deceit and being an entitled cunt. Gyms either have to take one of two stances for BJJ; stupid no-contact classes or succombing to the seedy underground and delivering live lessons behind closed doors. CLOSE THOSE BLOODY BLINDS. Those silly Tory fucks and the SNP have basically created real life Fight Clubs. I’m sure that wasn’t their intent when they shut the gyms for contact training. When the uprising is finally upon us (and as long as we’re within grabbing range) – the fat cats are fucked. Yer getting looped Boris, and I doubt you’re going to be able to stop it.
I’ve taken the suitably unhealthy stance of doing next to fuck all since March 8th. There was a bit of light exercise for a bit, but that died quickly. This has had a horrible affect on my mental and physical health. There has been a lot of take-aways, and lots of drinking. I’m basically a villain nowadays. I consume whatever free time I have with playing the Xbox, angrily shouting and generally being an absolute fucking tyrant to be around. Prior to Covid, my training was a bit more lax because my interest had waned. This was fairly grief driven and not actually a lack of interest in BJJ. I still love it, I just didn’t need it the same. It wasn’t my wonder cure then, but bizarrely without it now, I’m lost. My coaching however was really coming into its own. I’ve coached for years with varying degress of success, but I feel in the last year or so before Covid, I’d begun to take some real strides. I’d developed my own style of coaching, taking bits from other coaches that I’ve been lucky enough to train under or with. People were following the material well, and I was showered in hugs and kisses from all the boys at the end of every class. It’s what every coach wants really. We’re not so far removed from the Greeks you know. We’re only a bit of nudity and some oil away from a bloody good time.
As my mental health has declined, I had to take a few steps to prevent further and deeper slumps into depression. I’ve mostly got things under wraps with some light exercise, less consumption of the bad stuff and a bit more openness to the fact that there’s a problem – I’m still miles away from actually being myself or anywhere near being a happy person. That shit takes time, yo. Over the years I’ve put a lot of stock into Jiu-Jitsu as a device for physical and mental health – not having it has seemingly allowed all those cheeky critters inside my head to run riot. Going back, it can’t be everything though – that in itself isn’t healthy and I didn’t realise it at the time, because I ignorantly thought we were beyond a global fucking pandemic bringing pyjama fighting to its fucking knees (there’s a joke somewhere about how BJJ guys start on their knees anyways, but I’m not clever enough to make it). I’d hate to crumble again, whilst out with an injury or something. So there has to be balance going forward. This pish has taught me that, at least.
All is not right with the world currently – for most, that’s actually pretty hard to process. A bitter pill to swallow. A turd in your sausage roll. I’ll never shop at M&S again. Whether you think Covid-19 is a supervirus out to destroy our very existance, or the government using Covid-19 as a vehicle to further their own crooked agenda (try to narrow it down to just one), one thing is true – this world as it is right now, is fucking bullshit. If my glasses steam up one more fucking time in the Co-Op, I will kill everyone in stabbing range. Albeit blindly. Naturally, it’s not all black and white – nothing ever is. There is grey in between, let’s not be ignorant to that – if you genuinely care about any of it though, no doubt you’ve already explored it to the fullest extent (that means you’re already a virologist or an epidemiologist / have watched some YouTube videos, or read some illiterate Facebook posts from a twat in Scunthrope that ‘gets it’ – the digital age is a fucker, isn’t it? All the information in the world at our fingertips, but no real direction on what information is correct). The long term affects of this virus are going to be horrific, and that’s not just for the people that fall ill with it, or get long-covid as it’s so affectionately called. The degredation in mental and physical health, as well as the cuts and delays to our health services is frightening and will no doubt be pushed aside for years to come. Covid is king now. Cancer, HIV, MS and a slew of other illnessness are now second rate problems in the eyes of medical professionals, because of the stress they’re now under due to the virus itself, and the restrictions of resources that the government are throwing about so haphazardly.
Some people I know haven’t taken my overly cautious approach to this Covid lark, and have continued to train. If you’re of the Fight Club variety, then cool – you do you. Have fun, enjoy it. Fuck you. FUCK YOUR FUCKING FACE. I’m jealous. I miss being on the mats so much. It is minging. I’m not especially interested in what your reasons are. Some of you are athletes, some are in bubbles, some just don’t give a flippin’ hoot. Just be safe, yo. I don’t personally have a problem with people training, or continuing to train through this absolute fucking chaos, it might well be the thing that helps you survive – but I do think we should respect the people out there that aren’t as equipped to deal with this virus, as you might be. So don’t fall into old habits. The BJJ community can at times be wholly selfish. I’m guilty of it myself too. We’ve probably all trained when we’re under the weather, because we wanted to train. Sure with the common cold, it’s probably not a big deal – but it completely disregards the family and friends of your training partners, who might not want to get sick. We forget that, or at least we ignore it. I’ve seen coaches, students, training partners do the same. Someone can have the sniffles, assume it’s allergies and plod on. Before you know it – Tom, Dick & Harry all have the sniffles too. I don’t know about you, but my gi isn’t made of ragweed (wee allergy joke for ya, I’m here all week). It’s probably not advisable to be as lax with Covid, since we just can’t know who that’s going to impact. If you’re well enough to deal with Covid, then crack the fuck on, but your pal, their family or another friend may have an unknown medical condition or hidden disability and might not be so lucky. My worry currently is that I’ve seen seemingly healthy people implode as their body starts to attack itself through some genetic bastardisation that doctors just couldn’t spot until it’s just too far gone. A training partner and mortal enemy of mine suffered an auto-immune disorder out of nowhere. It brings me no end of joy to mock him for it, but also it’s absolutely horrible what they’re going through right now. So whilst you may be fit as a fiddle, it’s the people you come into contact with that matter (even mortal enemies). The virus could be The Green Mile for one of them. That doesn’t mean don’t have your little Fight Club – it means, don’t be a fucking dickhead about it. Get tested, be sure that you’re not impacting others. The vulnerable are among us. Weirdly enough, they’re people too (except you Daniel, fuck you!).
Currently, I’m not sure when I’ll be back to training. My other half is one of the aforementioned vulnerable people, so I’m being cautious until things normalise a bit more. I’m going to end up sloppily double legging someone in Tesco soon. No-one wants to see that. Once I get back on the mats, I’ve no idea where I’ll be. Whether I’ll be able to just pick up where I left off, or whether I’m going to be the prick wearing a BJJ brown belt that rolls about like he’s been only disciplined in Billy Blanks Tae Bo. I feel further from my black belt than I ever have. It was never the goal really, I just wanted to get better at this shit – but it’s weird to be up there now, and be so far from it. If that makes any sense.
Anyways, I’ve ran out of steam. Thanks for reading some of the stuff that’s floating about my mind at the moment. A big thanks to Boney, for encouraing me to write again.
Hello friends, let’s talk a little bit about Jiu-Jitsu – the people in it, and why I can’t really be fucked writing anymore, or well anything.
I’ll start by saying that I love to train and to teach; both are extremely important to my mental and physical health. My diet for the most part is laughable and outside of Jiu-Jitsu I don’t really do much except work all the cunting time, play computer games and watch ER (it’s absolutely bangin’). Training suppliments my slovenly lifestyle. I’m a fat dude is a skinny body.
I’ve never really had that desire to do something outside of Jiu-Jitsu and whilst I’ve dabbled, the notion of lifting stuff or runnig is completely alien to me; I’ll just never understand why anyone would entertain either unless they were confronted by a ravenous animal – and even then you’re just delaying the inevitable. You’re going to be eaten, just let it fucking happen. Do the world a favour, and fuck off (your carbon footprint is probably disgusting).
I’m at my fittest both physically and mentally when I’m training often, hard and sparring as much as possible.
This year did start well – I’d been doing my usual of training like fuck, and running my own class too (covering other classes when needed). The problem is though, that I’ve picked up a lion’s share of stupid injuries, tons of colds/flus, and I’ve got this horrible little lump on my chest that needs to be removed (His name is Terry – surgery pending).
Something had to give, so after a really busy first half of the year – the bubble has well and truly burst. I’m training a lot less now, and it sucks.
Having focused a bit more on teaching in leiu of actual training, I’ve found that as I’ve gotten better at all of this Jiu-Jitsu shite from a mental point of view.
I understand and pick things up a bit quicker than I used to, which is good as it means I no longer have to kill myself with a hundred classes a second – whilst my body and head are in their current fragile state. Ideally, I want to get back to training all the time, but for now it’s just not possible.
I’m starting to believe the hype. Drilling is bollocks. Training effeciently is where it’s at. With that said, I still make my class drill – because fuck ’em. Stupid white belts.
Things began to fall apart mentally in August when I lost my dad.
He was killed in a road accident by another driver. There are days when that’s very real, and there are days when it just isn’t.
My current understanding is that there was no need for a criminal case, as the guy pleaded guilty. However there is still a civil case going forward, so there’s that to deal with.
If it weren’t for my other half, some family and Jiu-Jitsu (specifically the people in it) – I would be an even bigger wreck than I currently am. I’m on edge constantly – with outbursts of rage, sadness and a slew of other emotions.
Training and teaching affords me moments of distraction from myself and the pain that I currently carry with me. I am not an especially happy person anymore, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to getting back to being ‘normal’ again. The stages of grief were chaotic, to say the least.
I’ve never felt anything like that in my life, and genuinely don’t wish it on anyone else. I’ve lost before, but not like this. I’ve experienced the grief of long drawn out illnesses in the family leading to their eventual death, and a few family suicides but the trauma of this rocked my world. I was so beyond numb on the day that it happened, that I still taught a class that evening (with a little help from my good friend Grant).
I’ve settled for missing my dad just now. It’s shitty and it hurts but there’s little else I can do. I’m just going through the motions, as you’re meant to.
Loads of people that I’ve trained with over the years reached out to me, and offered support. They’re unlikely to know how valuable that has been to me but it has helped tremendously just to know that there are people out there that care. To those of you reading this, thank you again.
Since my dad’s passing, I’ve done what I can to take my mind off of things. I’ve attended a couple of great seminars, likely overworked and spent quality time with those closest to me.
David ‘Speedy’ Elliot has made a more regular appearance at DMMA and Origin Scotland in the last few months. We even had a double seminar day at both locations one Sunday, with a surprise in toe for a few members (grading, yo). The real joy on that day was seeing Sloany get his brown belt from Speedy. There are few people in this lifetime more deserving, due to the effort he puts in. He’s a tremendously good coach, and whilst we reuglarly rip the piss out of one another – we’re forever sharing ideas and techniques (discussing Chinese food).
I went to a Demian Maia seminar back in late August, and a Roger Gracie Seminar in October – both of which were cool opportunites to train alongside some legends, whilst learning simple effective Jiu-Jitsu. The Maia seminar especially was briliant. It’s up there as one of the best big name seminars I’ve been to.
I’d be a cunt (more so than usual) if I didn’t mention what happened last weekend. My longtime coach Billy Beckers (DMMA founder) received his overdue black belt, alongside two other Origin members in Hubert (Newcastle) and Alex (Darlington). I can’t even describe how good that was to see, and be a part of. None of them expected it, because they all carry themselves with very similar values.
They’re humble, dedicated, providers of knowledge always putting their students first. Billy has an especially low self opinion, but really he’s one of the most technical and knowledgable coaches you’re ever likely to meet. He’s a sponge for the grappling and striking arts, having dedicated his life to this.
When I started, he was already a blue belt and he’s just gotten better and better with each passing year. He’ll do that belt proud, regardless of what he thinks of himself. Silly old bastard.
I’m not as present as I once was on the mats, but that will change in time. I’m currently just trying to drift from one positive experience to another, so that the hurt doesn’t completely strangle me from the inside. I’ll get back to being me one day, and I’ll get back on track with training, living and existing as I should be.
So much of what I do currently seems like a waste of time, or a pointless activity. I have to gee myself up for the most normal of things, otherwise I just won’t do them. Part of that is why I’ve made sure to invest time into these seminars, etc. It’s a way to keep moving forward, so that I’m not entirely trapped in a single awful moment.
Occasionally my mind will overhwelm and begin to spill out, if you’ve managed to read this to the end, well done. Thank you.
Hello friends, foes and other hoes. A few of my closer friends have asked why I haven’t written anything for a bloody long while.
I’ve been pretty busy scrapping on the floor as much as I possibly can, but the honest answer is that I normally write when I’m in a darker place mentally with my grappling; if things are going shitty – it’s far easier to write something from a self-deprecating point of view. If they’re going well – it’d be all rainbows and unicorns – and that’s just not what I’m about, son.
When I started this blog shite, it was a way of venting my frustrations. There was also some catalouging of progress, etc. but now, I’m in a better place more often, so my frustrations are squashed when I next train. If you get my drift.
With that said, I wouldn’t be writing this pish if I didn’t have something to vent.
On a weekly basis I spend as much time on the mats as possible, sharpening my own skills, coaching and doing my best to positively influence others. I will not lie – This can be a fucking grind. I’m hardly a ray of positivity, and tend to lead in what could be called an informal manner. Bit of a bastard, innit.
The balance between training and coaching is a difficult one to strike, and people are vampires. You’ll quite often see coaches get bogged down by their own game, because they’re so focused on everyone else in the room (one of my head coaches is guilty of this, even though he’s a technical monster – you know who you are, you fuck).
When this isn’t your main gig, and you have to work for a living, being sensible in your approach to training is vital. I only have so much time in the week and with that it’s an almighty balancing act. Watching, thinking and doing Jiu-Jitsu is only enough if you’re investing your time wisely.
I’ve taken the following approach; I attend three classes a week and teach one class. I’ll usually try and muscle in something additional to that too, a bit of extra sparring for instance. That only accounts for a linear view of the learning / coaching split.
Being a senior grade comes with an expectation to lead by example and to impart that fabled ‘wisdom’ they talk about in the movies. So quite often, I’ll be coaching within classes in an assistive manner to the lead coach – or one on one with various students. My primary focus is still learning, and it always will be. I want to make it clear that when I get that illusive black belt in the years to come, I’m not going to fuck off into the sunset. I’ll still be in classes regularly, learning like a dirty little white belt – I’ll have just been here longer.
In addition to the learning and coaching, I try to roll as often as I can. I find it interesting to see what approaches people have to certain techniques. We’re all built differently, so there’s micro-adjustments that we all make to try and get shit to work. Some people kill you slowly and methodically. Others are bulldozers. Some wrestle. Some invert. Some people are straight up ninjas. Techniques are only guidelines in Jiu-Jitsu. It’s you that turns them into a game.
Over the years, I’ve invested a fair few hours into this hobby of mine.
My own progress aside, in return for my invested time I’ve seen countless people progress into absolute warriors, but I have also seen people come and go. That accounts for great talents, average Joes and the truly abysmal.
Of those that stick it out, again there’s a split of great talent, average Joes and somehow a small bunch of ham-fisted thundercunts (bless their hearts).
With that in mind, knowing who to invest your time into is difficult, because you just don’t know whether they’re going to stick it out. It’s an absolute fucking cunt of a thing. Everyone’s all about that #JiuJitsuLife throwing up selfies and shakkas when it suits their social media, but let’s face it our turnover rate at white and blue belt is bloody embarrassing in this Martial Art of ours. People can, and often do very quickly fade away into obscurity. That’s not to say I don’t love a bit of self-indulgent social media, but I train, so it’s allowed.
Having a pool of people you can rely on is seemingly hard to come by, even with a fairly large team. People break, they holiday, they family, they relax, and at one point or another I have been guilty of all of these things. Life somehow finds a way to ruin grappling. Let’s not forget I used to bin training pretty frequently for a new game on the XboxStation. Don’t be THAT guy.
I haven’t yet worked out how the hell we’re meant to get people to stick this shit out. I’ve seen so many brilliant grapplers dissipate into nothingness over the years. I also often look back on people with a what could have been mentality, that gets me down. I can control my own training, and I can try and make my own classes engaging, fun, whatever – but sometimes it just seems like we’re fighting a losing battle. People are going to quit, because people are shit. Also, there are people that you haven’t invested enough time into in the early days, that have pushed through the shit and are now high level blues and purples. What’s all that about?
As good as our current roster is, I don’t feel I can genuinely rely on a lot of these goons to stick around and continue to drink from the Jiu-Jitsu Kool-Aid.
My biggest worry currently is whether those that are on the cusp of new belts are about to fuck off into the ether forever. This is commonplace in Jiu-Jitsu, and one of the great ignored realities. I’ve walked a fine line recently, trying to ensure I’ve been good with the students and I’m not ignoring people or just rolling and engaging with the same people over and over again, as was the norm in the good old days – but I just don’t know if that’s enough.
I felt compelled to write this so that you know where I’m coming from. If you’re not engaged, please don’t just give up. Speak to a coach, speak to your training partners. There are slumps in this thing. Jiu-Jitsu isn’t easy. It’s a bloody grind with very little loot at the end for us hobbyists. Let’s try not to lose any more people from our fabled little Martial Art, stick this shit out and all be really terrible black belts together. I need people to roll with in the next god knows however many years.
If you read last week’s issue of The Lazy Grappler, you’ll know that I was promoted – but I’m not the only cowboy in Dodge. Loads of people were promoted alongside me at the same time, or the following week too. It’s a fucking who’s who of stripes and belts across the board. Finally we’re in a position where there are tons of coloured belts on the mats. This has always been the aim, and it makes me so god damn proud of all your wee faces.
I’m not going to list everyone that was promoted, becuase it’s a massive list and more importantly; I definitely would forget someone, they’d throw their toys out of the pram, and it’s just not a can of worms I can be arsed with the ballache of opening.
For a long time, a lot of people in my wee club have suffered from the idea that promotions aren’t especially important, because if you’re having fun and just enjoying doing what you’re doing, I guess they’re not.
When it comes to NoGi, you legitimately don’t know how good someone else is until you roll with them or see them roll. Gi is a little bit different. The senior grades have a big target on them, saying HEY! fucking look at this.
The belt should give you an idea of where someone is at. That strip of material along the waistline should be a measurement of a few things; attitude, discipline, technique, knowledge, time, etc. The further up the ranks you get, the more inherent trust others will put into you. The game changes. Your own progress now has a knock on effect to everyone else in the gym (that cares). As more people around you get promoted, people start to elevate their games across the board. It’s a very positive thing to see and experience. Plus for the team, the club or whatever, you have a far easier sell of the Martial Art that you’re demonstrating to masses.
Grading is a very personal thing. I think the right way to do it (and I may be wrong here), is to judge a person against themselves. That’s how I was graded. Are they a better version now, of what they were say X amount of time ago? When judging someone’s progression, you should be looking at their expression of Jiu-Jitsu, how they move, what their attitude is etc. Comparing two people like for like is difficult because of how different those people can be.
For instance, I am not a supreme athelete, I am not a fighter, I’m just a hobbyist that happens to have put a decent amount of time into this. My arse can still be kicked if/when I get lazy, but I do have an A-game that works very well against a lot of people. So I try to keep it real, yo. I am not Cobrinha. 😦
To wrap up for those of you who didn’t get promoted; be happy for those that did and stay hungry. By trying to beat the promoted people up, you are getting better. They’re also getting better and so on. It’s a ripple effect. We all elevate one another in this Jiu-Jitsu stuff, from white belt all the way to black. We’re all getting better together. There will come a day when you’re also promoted for the effort you’ve put in, and someone can start trying to kick your cunt in for the privilege. It’s the circle. THE CIRCLE OF LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE. x
On Sunday, the 18th of November I was promoted to brown belt. This might get soppy. Bear in mind I can remember the shock, followed by being completely enamoured with being promoted to blue belt. It seemed so alien to me at the time, and such a privilege. I didn’t ever really think about the possibility of becoming a blue belt, so it goes without saying that I didn’t ever see myself surpassing that. When I started all this, there really wasn’t BJJ in Dundee. Sure there were a few places doing NoGi grappling, but let’s for a moment make the distinction and suggest that Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is in the Gi. That’s what people think of in their mind’s eye when someone says BJJ. Pyjama fighting, innit.
Way back when (eight years ago) – Billy, Grant and myself grabbed the bull by the dick and started trying to familiarise ourselves with the gi (Billy had already dabbled, he was a seasoned blue belt). In its infancy, I’m not even sure whether the aim was actually to build something or not, but that became a byproduct of what we were doing. For months we trained on a Sunday when the gym was free, and we’d dabble at open mats too. The love for the Gi was just there for us, and I’m not really sure why. Maybe it just clicked. We built a relationship with David ‘Speedy’ Elliot our now head coach, we visited him and he visited us regularly – helping us grow our repotoire of techniques. Fast forward a little bit, and there’s now multiple classes in Dundee and the surrounding area hosted by us Origin Jiu-Jitsu coaches. Somehow, we did that. Our influence has made its stamp, that’s pretty weird to think of.
Credit where credit is due – I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this if it wasn’t for Dundee Mixed Martial Arts welcoming me into their little club.
The grappling scene around this neck of the woods is also now healthier than it’s ever been. There’s Judo, Sambo, Freestyle Wrestling, NoGi, Catch & to top it all off Gracie Barra also run some classes in Dundee. This place is flourishing!
If you dig grappling, Dundee’s a pretty fucking decent place to be now with differing views and schools of thought on how to approach all of this limb destruction. Spread your wings a little further, and the world’s your lobster with places like Fair City Jiu-Jitsu, Gracie Barra Fife, Jax MMA, and Results Gym to name a few. That’s not even going far from Dundee. Scotland as a whole now has reclaimed its title as a land of the savages, but we no longer weild Claymores. It’s all double legs and kimura traps now.
Let’s get back on track before I put you to sleep with words instead of chokes.
On Sunday, Speedy hosted another interclub. He does this twice a year. The bi-annual interclub extravaganza.
The turnout was immense, the matches on the day were fun, technical and great to watch and be a part of. The level at each belt division is going through the bloody roof, because of the hard work that all the coaches are putting into their individual teams. A white belt when I started compared to now, is a very different thing. It’s great for us all to come together, on one big day (well two) to celebrate how far we’ve come. As a coach, that’s pretty god damn cool to see how my guys stack up against their guys in a non-threatening environment. Before and after your own matches, you can help coach friends, drill/spar or just hang out and enjoy the day. It’s ace.
The day has become a bit of blur. One minute myself and my chauffeur Danny are arriving in Newcastle, next minute we’re fighting in our retrospective categories (I was really impressed with Danny on the day), and then I’m standing in line alongside Grant and a fuckload of Origin black belts as promotions are being handed out to each team – one by one. It was immense to see some of the guys that I work with on a weekly basis get promoted. Whether that was stripes, or belts.
The big one for me though, was seeing my main man Tony getting his shiny new purple belt. It came as a complete surprise to him, because Grant and I had finished our promotions and Speedy gave him the belt personally. He’s improved so much since getting his blue it’s frightening, and there isn’t a person in the club that doesn’t value him as a training partner. He’s just the best fucking dude you’re ever likely to meet.
Once the team promotions were handed out, Speedy asked that the coloured belts go back into line so that only the black belts were at the front of the room. This didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary at the time, but my team freaked out as Grant and I walked back into the group. It’s like they realised what was about to happen before we did.
Barely a minute removed from the lineup, Speedy mentioned that today was going to be a special day and he had a few more promotions to give out. The next people to be promoted would be joining the Jiu-Jitsu elite as he put it. That next big step. Speedy doesn’t give out promotions lightly. He promotes when he believes you’re ready, and not a moment before.
That’s helped me immensely whenever I’ve doubted whether I should be wearing the belt around my waist, or how well I’m doing – I take a moment and remember who promoted me, and the standard he holds people to. It’s a small comfort when you’re sliding down the side of a hill, into a deep dark valley of despair (or in Grant’s case, being pulled off of his feet by his daft dog Hugo!).
To Grant and I it seemed obvious what was coming; Billy and Mighele were getting their brown belts. They’re two of Darlington’s finest – absolute gentleman off the mats, and utterly terrifying to compete against on the mats.
Speedy mentioned that he was going to call out these next people together so that they could ALL be promoted at the same damn time.
Mighele. Billy. Barry. Grant. Fahad. What the fucking fuck.
As I walked up, I was fucking shitting myself. My team went mental seeing myself and Grant getting called up; just like Dom’s and Speedy’s teams did seeing their own guys called up too.
I can’t explain how nervous I was, but I had to hold focus so that I didn’t burst into tears like a wee bairn. Had I been promoted alone, I would have been fine, stoic and locked in on the moment – but this was different, I felt so privileged to have shared that little moment with those four people in particular, because of how much I admire them all as individuals. They’re great people. It felt rare and special – and it’s one that I’m going to remember for a long time because of what it means to me. I’m sentimental like that, for the cantankerous cunt that I am.
I’ve had belts before, but this was different. For a brief moment, five purple belts stood ahead of five black belts and we were welcomed to that next level. I’m in good company here, supported by friends and team members to be the best I can possibly be as a brown belt.
The reception I’ve received upon getting back to Dundee has been incredible.
My self-deprecating appraoch has likely clouded my judgement on whether I’m actually good at this stuff – but I certainly didn’t expect so many people to say how happy they were to see me get my brown belt, or how much I deserved it for the amount I train, time I put into helping people, and the techniques I use/show on a regular basis. It has been surreal, but highly appreciated.
Going forward, the aim is the same as it’s always been. I want to be better at Jiu-Jitsu today, than I was yesterday. I know that the people around me will help me achieve that goal.
On Saturday, I packed my favourite pair of grappling shorts for an afternoon down at Dundee Mixed Martial Arts. Daniel Strauss was in town to show us all how to choke the fucking shit out of one another.
Last year, I travelled up to Aberdeen with a few pals to attend his butterfly seminar. The details were simple and effective, and it was great to spend three hours just going over one thing in great detail. It’s the sort of drilling you’re meant to do, but just don’t. Drill to kill and all that jazz. This isn’t my first rodeo, so I had a good idea of what I was in for.
This year, the same format returned. Daniel doesn’t fuck around, once there’s a quick head count down and it’s definite that there’s no other cunts due to show up, the class starts and you’re put to work immediately. There’s no warmup, because it’s summer. Really though, you’re about to drill for hours, at a very gradual pace, if you need a warmup you’re probably about to die. Sort your fucking life out, mate. Whipped cream on chips, you savage.
Each section is broken up meticulously and probably labeled appropriately. There’s a beginning, a middle bitty and an end. With some caveats thrown in, just to keep things funky. I’m downplaying things a bit here, because I don’t want to go into specifics and take money out the poor boy’s mouth. He’s clearly a very hungry boy. It’s shitty to chuck lesson plans online, when he’s still touring the seminar.
What I will say though, is that I am wholly shit at guillotines (or at least that’s how I felt at the beginning), but after three hours of practicing them and listening to the concepts and ideas that Daniel has about them, it really fucking gelled with me. I legit think I can guillotine anyone now, which is a gross over-estimation of where I’m at – but that’s not the point I’m making here. The point is, for £25 this is probably the best seminar I’ve ever been to. I fucking loved it.
Like most top black belts, he really takes the time to ensure you’re picking up the correct details, and he does this by observing everyone in the class, listening to your gripes and correcting them as you go. You’re encouraged throughout to ask questions. You don’t move on until everyone’s getting it, or at least that’s how it seemed. Granted there were a few right dumb fucks in the class, so it’s hard to tell. We might have been there all fucking day had he waited until EVERYONE got it.
I’ve been playing with the setups this week, and even when the success isn’t quite there yet, it’s ingrained in my brain. I just need to keep practicing and before you know it, I’ll be snatching up motherfucker’s necks whilst wearing only my rainbow coloured godzilla spats. That shit’s scary, yo.
Daniel Strauss is probably one of the nicest black belts you’re likely to meet, fuck he’s probably one of the nicest guys you’re likely to meet. He’s approachable and friendly with everyone, and there’s a real genuine quality to his character and coaching. You already know what he’s capable of, but his warmth as a person really hammers it home (even when he’s asking if Scotland has iPhones yet. Motherfucker). If you get the chance, look him up on Instagram or one of the numerous grappling shows he’s been on – and if you’re interested in learning how to get good at grappling, go to one of his seminars before his broken body catches up with him. I’m in my thirties, and shit’s getting real. He’s fucked.
Here’s some pictures of The Raspberry Ape and I, and the rest of the group. Don’t play spot the dumb fuck, it’s nasty.
The Exploits of a Lazy Grappler. 