skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Monday night and in yesterday's class we worked on feint-of-parry to each quadrant and possible responses. There are always three other main parries available (the other three open quadrants) and at least one ceding parry. Kenny, our coach, presented this so clearly and succinctly that I actually can imagine taking advantage of the diversity during real bouts although my attempts during open fencing Monday evening were less than successful. I like it a lot. It's yet another way to introduce and manage complexity in the game.
Also, as I was suiting up, I watched the other fencers in the club. We'd only missed a week because of the Pecos Conference, but I could see distinct and significant improvements and changes in several of the fencers. It could be a very interesting and surprising year for several of them.
And last night, Lynn and I finished watching Desperate Romantics the BBC series drama about the Pre-Raphaelites. I was very fond of it, on a number of levels. Indeed, it's possibly the best BBC series I've seen in years. Rossetti dominates and poor old Burne-Jones (of whose work I'm most fond) receives short shrift. But that's to be expected I guess. A little web research revealed that Ken Russell ("Women in Love," etc.) made a bio-pic about Rossetti and Elizabeth Siddal back in the 1960s; I definitely need to check that out.
I also discovered Zoe Keating's music this week which I find I can listen to over and over.
The Burne-Jones painting of Perseus seems like a nice representation of fighting and managing complexity.
Open fencing last night marked our clubs resumption of our regular schedule. All through July I’ve fenced three times a week and been diligent about my daily training. And then there was fencing camp at the end of June. I may well be at the peak of my form.
Last night I lost every bout but one.
Last night and this morning as I’ve reviewed each one I find myself finding different reasons for each loss. For example, against Kim, a left-handed fencer with excellent reach and quick and precise blade work, I persistently attacked in four and lost with a touch to my arm or shoulder. What was I thinking?
I could write a similar paragraph about each bout. They would all finish with that last sentence. And there is the common thread. I was thinking about myself: making sure I was fencing at the right distance, making sure my arm position was right, trying to minimize wrist action and maximize finger movement. All good things.
But, what I wasn’t thinking about was my opponent, his or her legwork, his or her timing. I do this from time to time and I need to find a way to jolt myself out of it.
A movie image comes to mind. Early in the film “The Thirteenth Warrior,” Herger tosses a Viking sword to Ahmed who complains “This is too heavy.” Herger cheerfully responds, “Grow stronger.”
So, for me: “Grow quicker. Grow cleverer.” And, as John Gardner has Beowulf remind Grendel in his retelling, “This is reality.”
Since our advanced fencing camp I’ve stepped up both my training and my fencing. I’ve also started reading James well regarded “Strength Training for Fencers” which, so far is illuminating. Example: connective tissue develops one seventh as fast as muscle tissue which is one of the reasons that strength training needs to proceed at a proper pace and why injuries are such a real danger as you seek to increase strength.
All of which alludes to an interesting point. Literature is rife with fencing and sword fighting of all kinds. Archetypical heroes with little or no experience or training regularly trounce evil villains presumably hampered by their years of practice. Rarely, if ever, is the necessity of training given it’s due or even any attention. The two obvious reasons are that most writers aren’t fencers and, more importantly, training is singularly undramatic. A story about Ralph who trains harder and more effectively than Fred then triumphs over him in the grand Pris de Fer tournament in Wiley, Oklahoma isn’t particularly interesting.
But training, for all kinds of reasons, is fundamental to the sport and it must have always been so. Further it isn’t enough to have trained once. It’s a continuing essential. Fencing isn’t riding a bicycle.
There are a few counter examples of course. When Horatio expresses his concern after Hamlet accepts the king’s request that he fence Laertes, Hamlet replies, “…since he went into France I have been in continual practice. I shall win at the odds.” Shakespeare knew a bit about fencing it seems.
I’d love to read something fictional about fencing in which training, in all its complexity, with all its nuances, is given its proper role.
You hook up to the reel, plug in your weapon, take a few steps down the piste, salute your opponent and the director. The masks go down, you go on guard. Ready. Fence.
And then what? What do you think about? What should you think about? Sometimes for me it goes like this:
“I know this person. We fenced before and I watched him in one of the pool bouts today. He’s fencing pretty much the same way. He moves in and out of distance a little but his real attack is always a ballestra followed by a lunge deceiving in six to finish in four. So I’ll act like I don’t know that and at the end of the his attack I’ll defeat it by closing the line in four, counter attacking in six.”
Or maybe it goes like this:
“I know this person. He’s a lot better than me. His hand touches are incredibly accurate. He will almost certainly beat me, but my goal has to be to fence the very best I can against him, no matter the score. (Bless you Johan Harmenberg). So, is my stance the best it can be? Are my advances smooth enough? I need to be a little lower. I need to make sure my forearm and hand are right. I don’t want to give him a hand touch. How’s my grip?”
And it goes on. There are more themes and variations. I’ve won bouts with both of the above inner conversations. But they are very different. The first is tactical while the second is focused almost purely on technique.
In the issue of American Fencing I just received, one of the articles provides a well reasoned and supported analysis stating that fencers do better when they think about what they want to achieve, not the technical aspects of how to achieve it. I buy that, sometimes. Yet there are times when thinking about a few technical issues starts you down the right trail of solving the complex mystery of how to win.
Indeed, every bout is a mystery. It more than helps to be a be a bit like Sherlock Holmes or Daryl Zero. The two “obs” (observation and objectivity) are as important in Fencing as in any endeavor I can think of.
There are so many possible things to think about. Even the number of perfectly correct ones is uncountably infinite (George Cantor’s famous diagonal proof applies). But you can think of only a few. How do you choose? Especially, when the person hidden behind the mask is a stranger. Every bout is a new and different mystery.
And then there are the bouts, sometimes even 15 point DEs, when you finish, perhaps you win, and your coach comes up and asks “So how did you do that?” And you realize you have no idea at all what you were thinking.
We’re still at it. June was an eventful month, the most intensive period being our club’s five day “Advanced Fencing Camp,” which was held at the University of Utah. It was a tad intensive. The first day was a lot of “fun work” (read “relentless conditioning”) which revealed how much I need to step up my daily conditioning to be in proper shape. It was just tough enough that I wondered each day whether I’d make it through the next. But I was compensated with numerous high points: substantive, formal bouts with the best fencers in the club, humbling and surprising bouts with new fencers, a fantastic stretching session, and a couple of fun, close-fought team competitions. My favorite moment may have been watching Lynn’s fierce concentration as she faced a very capable woman from the U of U club. Needless to say, I learned a lot, was inspired yet again, and came away with a “I survived Advance Fencing Camp” t-shirt with “I love fun work” printed on the back.
The following Saturday was the Last Chance Tournament at the Utah Valley Club in Orem. I did well enough (11th ) in a field with several A level fencers but came away feeling I could have won one more DE bout if I’d been a little more clever. I wasn’t too surprised as the camp, besides being physically intense, had given me numerous issues to work on and consider. My game has been disrupted. Time to take a step.
And now it’s July. Our club takes a break, partly because of Nationals. But we’re still at it. Robert, Lynn and have been fencing on the roof in the mornings which has been particularly good fun and we’re off this afternoon to fence with the U of U club. The news from Nationals is particularly good. One clubmate, Dylan Nollner, was first in Division 1A and 11th in men’s epee over all. Another, Gabriele Macdonald, was 16th in Y14 men’s epee. And Tatijana Stewart is national champion in Y10 epee. She destroyed me more than once during our camp. Last and far from least, our coach, Kenny Nopens, was awarded the Coaches Medal. Wicked cool.
And I see in the news that roof top fencing is becoming fashionable: Morehouse London Rooftop
