Over time, as I get older, I have gotten a chance to see the surprising shortcoming of the mind's memory. I have rediscovered writings of mine, and looked at old medals and realized how tenuous my memory of those matches becomes, in spite of how vivid the memories were in their immediate aftermath.
So I will write an update, now, to record this window in time, while it is still reasonably fresh in my mind.
(A side note: I hope I don't come off as conceited, but given that I am writing mostly a list of achievements in my life over the last 24 months that I am proud of, I wouldn't blame you for that perspective. Hopefully, friend, you will allow me this small space to celebrate my success and will celebrate with me as you read.)
112 weeks ago, I got a brown belt (sankyu, 3kyu) in Judo.
(How ranks work in Judo in the US: there are three degrees of brown; sankyu is the first and lowest, but is taken pretty seriously because it is still brown. After brown, like virtually all other martial arts that have copied the belt system that comes from Judo, is black, and the first grade/degree is called 'shodan'/1st dan).
2015 became the year I slowed down on martial arts, though. I got my purple belt in BJJ shortly before my brown in Judo, after a great triple-gold-medal as a blue belt, every win by submission day. In 2015, my BJJ coach started saying I was looking at brown (in BJJ) by end of year. On rare occasion, I would even find myself tapping my instructor when sparring. I was at my BJJ peak, then. I was teaching some BJJ classes, and between teaching and studying BJJ and Judo, going to virtually every class offered, I was hitting 11 classes a week at times.
But I was poor. And life had to change. I moved out of my then girlfriend's place, and in to a spare room at my mom's house, for a set window of a few months, to set aside all else and prepare to enter a programming bootcamp. My only focus was teaching myself to code to get in to the best one in the country, which had a very difficult acceptance criteria--self teaching enough to get in would take a few months. I could no longer afford BJJ while studying, but I kept going to Judo... until I got accepted into that bootcamp. I paused Judo as I started studying code, late summer of 2015.
The program I was in was 6 days a week, 11 hours a day hours for 5 of those days--total of 63 hours a week, plus whatever after hours work you could fit in. I lived on site, and basically had to put martial arts on complete hold, sadly. I had hoped to train on my day off, but I was just worn out, and my Judo school didn't offer classes that day (Sunday)--and I couldn't afford BJJ.
But I graduated. I started to train once a week, when I wasn't coding and job hunting. I was out of shape, man could I feel it. When you're in great shape, everything just feels kind of easy. Now, everything was work. Every practice was leaving me sore. Sitting down all day every day for months, no exercise, takes more of a toll than you'd think.
And then, after about three months, I got a job--through a recommendation from a friend who was a black belt in Judo, saying he'd seen how fast I had picked up Judo, and he knew I'd do equally well in programming. (Thank you, Trung--I'm indebted to you.)
It all seemed impossible to imagine, but this huge change happened in my personal life. I went from being a somewhat underachieving pedicabber who made almost nothing, to being able to open a savings account. I had to trade 8 months preparing, applying, studying, and prepping, 3 months of my life immersed in it, and then 3 months going after a job, but I had made it. I couldn't train nearly as hard as I used to with what limited time I had left outside of office hours, but that was the trade-off I had chosen.
But BJJ and Judo had been my life for the last 4 years, and BJJ had been in my life for 10 years. I wasn't about to give that up.
I slowly ramped back up to 'full time' Judo training, all 3x/wk that were available at my club. I tried my old BJJ club, but after not getting tapped out all month and noticing all of my instructor's attention and time going (understandably) to the newer students, I decided I needed to find a place where I was more challenged. I briefly did the university club, and found myself, to my own surprise, still able to submit BJJ brown belts--in spite of being so drained that I sometimes felt like throwing up in class, and every class feeling like I just couldn't keep going. There was also a very impressive Brazilian black belt with amazing technique and, though rather short and small, in incredible shape, who I greatly enjoyed going with--every time I rolled, I wished I was at my peak, instead of just having to tap out to sheer exhaustion on the occasions I wasn't tapping to a submission... He had me on fitness, strength, and technique--and what beautiful technique. I think we rolled together most classes.
Still, my office moved further away from that club, and that instructor left shortly after I started to start his own club way south, so I looked elsewhere... none of the options I wanted had a price that made sense for the amount of times I would be able to train... once, maybe twice a week, since I was committed to Judo 3x/week, and just didn't feel like I could do any more physically than that and still be able to do my office job. Near the end of 2016, I did do some open mats at EAE, and earlier in the year I did a promo month from a groupon there as well. I like them, I've always liked Derrick, I like that they (had) a Sambo club, I like the sparring partners... just too pricey for how little I could attend, especially if you don't commit to a year at a time.
So, Judo remained my focus. I knew I wasn't at my old competition shape, or, more importantly I thought, weight--now I was in the low 170's, a bad weight for Judo. Too heavy to cut down to the under 73kg(160.8 lb) limit, but pretty light for the 81kg(under 178) category. Still, I missed competition season in the fall the year before. I figured I'd do some competitions just to knock some rust off, get some experience at the non-novice level, and see how the field felt.
With zero expectations... I started off at a small competition just outside of Dallas, and got two golds--one for a Senior Elite (read: category that 18-30 year old black belts compete in) 81kg division (where, admittedly, I had only one other competitor--a brown belt who did have a purple in BJJ, so, same ranks, technically, as myself--and we fought best of three) to face, even though my old division was stacked with difficult competitors), and one for a Ne Waza (groundwork) division, where I faced a few black belts and that same brown belt.
But I figured it was a fluke. Still, looking for that learning experience, I tried another, just two weeks later--the old Go Shibata memorial tournament in College Station, where I had been to my first martial arts tournament as a yellow belt way back in the fall of 2013, when I had about half a year of Judo experience and had just gotten my blue belt in BJJ.
This was a well run tournament that was known to pull a somewhat higher profile crowd. As a side note, having had my motorcycle stolen, I got a ride to San Antonio to buy a car the night before this competition, and so competed on little sleep, but with a lot of excitement. I did the brown belt division, and surprised myself--in a large bracket, I ended up with second place, and very nearly got first--in spite of being quite below the shape I was in when I had been competing before, and in a weight class higher. The loss could be attributed to strength, in the end--I had several near subs that my opponent just muscled straight out of, and gassed after all the attempts, I let him get a Waza Ari pin while I caught my breath before refusing to lose that way and escaping. I lost on points--Yuko to Waza Ari. I had been too tired to even realize how close I was to winning during the match, sadly. I had been leading the whole time.
On a whim, encouraged by a coach that morning, I decided to try the Senior Elite (black belt division) as well. Why not? I was already here.
Well, I ended up getting second in that as well. My brother and his girlfriend showed up to this one, and I kept telling them to expect me to lose the next match, but it just didn't happen until the final. Somehow, I just kept going.
I was exhausted. I felt on the cusp of injury in a few spots. But elated. When I lost that senior elite match for first, I was losing to a nationally ranked judoka who was an active competitor, Kyle Wright--and he didn't destroy me. In fact, the bizarre reffing ruined the match, though I will definitely admit I felt like my opponent was better than me and would have won even if the reffing had not interrupted us to insanity. (Parenthetically, I noticed going against him a completely different caliber of 'game playing', gripping strategies that played to gaming the rules very well, that I had never seen before--frustrating, but impressive, and clearly showing me he was at another level).
But that said, surprisingly, I lasted and did fine. He struggled to get the better of me, and it was a fight--he only threw me when I had received three shidos and started making knowingly bad choices just to avoid being disqualified on shidos, got a Yuko-worthy throw (no force, landed on side), and the ref gave him an ippon for it.(I can understand that might sound like sour grapes: To be clear, my opponent agreed with me after the match as well, and expressed his own frustration that our match had just been constantly interrupted when it should not have been, and that that throw was clearly not an ippon. My suspicion is that it was a combination of bad luck, slight ref bias towards the experienced competitor, and his excellent gripping strategy making me look bad. That's life).
After that, people noticed me. People shook my hand. People wanted to ask me questions. After that, my coach started talking about promoting me to ikkyu by December, shodan by next summer. Woah. I'd been assuming more like two years, now the conversation had turned to eight months.*
(*Optional side explanatory note if that sounds weird: I had technically been a brown belt for two years, now, so it made sense if we counted a 'missed' promotion at a year back (2kyu), one in two months (1kyu), and another in six months (1dan/shodan), given my competition record: at this point, in Judo that was nearly perfect, getting all golds and one silver (at my first one, with 6 months experience, to a guy who immediately afterwards got a brown belt) between all of my competitions as a novice, and at this point had 2 golds and 2 silvers as a brown belt.)
Surreal. I had expected nothing this season. And now I was taking home medals and not finding the ceiling quite where I had thought I would.
Well. Next was the Houston Open, the biggest 'non-points' tournament in Texas, often featuring some of the best in the state. I hadn't planned on going to this tournament, but the night before, I decided to go ahead and wake up early and make the drive.
When I got there, I was told there was no one in the 81kg division. (!?!?!). Apparently, with the Dallas invitational in just two weeks--that's the biggest competition in Texas, and of the The Three Big Ones in the US, worth points, featuring people from all over the country--many competitors were holding back and waiting for that. Again, the 73kg bracket was stacked. But I was about 9 lbs too heavy for that division. So, I could take a gold for no contest (gross!), or bump up to the 90kg (198lb) division and face people up to 25-30 lbs heavier than me.
What?! I was 173 at my heaviest! And had woken up early to make the drive, tired... whatever. I was here, might as well go all the way. And what the hell, I figured--if I was going to do that, I might as well sign up for the open weight division as well. I got them to make an exception because of the situation and inconvenience, and let me into the bracket right after the deadline.
If I had no expectations before, I definitely had none now!
Sadly, my open weight matches weren't filmed. Open weight was first. It was a major event, the side two mats are shut down, an announcer commentates to the audience. The prize for open weight is $500! ($150 for all senior elite divisions, $100 for novice divisions.)
I have my first match--very fast submission on a seemingly talented french judoka who wasn't expecting it.
Second match--and I'm facing a guy who is shorter, but has a jacked upper body, about 190 lbs, black belt... and the announcer tells everyone: this is last year's open weight champ, who I hear from others around me beat a much bigger man, when he had about 20 lbs less of muscle--he later told me he had spent time bulking up because of a knee injury he'd been rehabbing the first half of the year.
Breathe. Remember. No expectations.
It was an intense match. Back, and forth, and back, neither of us sticking a throw on the other. He nearly gets an Ura Nage (suplex) on me, but he can't quite get me over, as I'm using my hips and body and even legs tangled with his to stop it--you can hear the audience gasp, as it was barely prevented. (I've practiced defense to this throw a lot, as we have a very large powerful black belt in my club--thanking Nick for trying to suplex you isn't something you imagine yourself doing, but, here it is: Thanks Nick!).
Then, suddenly, after an attempted throw, we're on the ground. He's belly down, and I shoot a leg through and over his shoulder--I'm going for an omoplata--I am power through my exhaustion, tying up all the loose ends, scooting, pulling, flattening, posturing, and...
he taps.
It was like a dream. I couldn't believe it.
After several more matches, I ended up getting second place, losing twice (true double elimination) to the same guy--once as my next match, and then a second time as a hard fought final. For the semi-final I also beat a team member who was a black belt and a former member of the Iranian national team (but exhausted from his very hard matches, and generally out of practice and shape--he has also put judo aside to build his professional life for some time now) with a submission on the ground. I don't know if I could have beat the judoka he faced (a very talented Spaniard). He got third, and I questioned internally whether he should actually be switching medals with me. What's more, a 260 lb teammate had also not entered for a silly reason, and I could have ended up losing to him, too, easily. There's always some luck in how the brackets end up.
But so it goes. Second place. In the open weight division. Holy shit. I was dumbfounded. Apparently, I was actually decent at this Judo thing. I had people warning my opponents of me before my matches, discussing and planning strategies to counter my game, which they remembered from the last competition. I had people I didn't know texting my coach (who didn't make this competition) about my performance. I had strangers telling me 'that was an awesome omoplata'. I had the coach of a competitor I faced as a green belt, two years before, recognize me and ask me questions and more or less try to recruit me.
Oh, and the 90kg division? Three guys, round robin--I got gold. Two wins, a submission and a Tomoe Nage for ippon.
O_O
$150 cash prize! I couldn't believe it! And second in open weight!
(Above: one of my matches from the 90kg division. I felt like that was likely my best throw of the season. I was proud of this counter Tomoe Nage I'd been working on, and I'd finally stuck the timing. For years this had been a strong move of mine in randori, but I'd never pulled it off in competition before this season. Now I was pulling it off regularly in senior elite divisions!)
All that was left was the Dallas Invitational. I'd absolutely not planned on going to this one. I'd won gold as a novice at this a couple years ago, and that was a medal I was very proud of--even in the novice category, I faced out of state competitors, at this competition. But at this point, I just had to find it--where was the breaking point? How long was I really going to be young enough to do this, looking at 27 looming a month out in December?
So, at the last minute, I decided to go. I made the drive out in my new-to-me car again, almost missed the walk-up registration window, had to beg them to let me weigh in (yup, still way under 81kg), got a hotel room, and waited it out until the next morning. My mom happened to be in Dallas for something else, and showed up late in the day, which was good, since there was a lot of waiting. She still waited a couple hours with me.
My first match... was, I found out, against the favorite to win, a student of Jimmy Pedro, Jack, who was #2 nationally ranked after Travis Stevens (the 5th ranked Judoka in the world, highest rank in the US), I heard. He had been on TV with Stevens and Kayla Harrison (most decorated US Judo Olympian, 2 golds) at talk shows, I heard. He had an amazing Uchi Mata, I heard. (And later confirmed, haha.)
That first match, much like my Senior Elite final at Go Shibata, was very weirdly reffed, and so I felt like we didn't get a good match. I was given a lot of shidos--even shidos for stiff arming while I was intentionally not even grabbing my opponent, specifically to avoid the shido-happy ref claiming I was defensively gripping, and also got a threat from him for an 'attempted kneebar' that made ZERO sense (I know knee bars, and it would literally have been impossible to even try for a kneebar--I was doing an x guard sweep, but I digress). So, immediately into the loser's bracket--true double elimination, so one more loss and I'm out.
Well, no expectations. I at least gave Jack a hard time, had nearly gotten a bow and arrow choke on him (ref stood us up, but it was deeeep in, and he was totally immobilized), and I think I got a Yuko on him, if I remember correctly. I was proud of that loss to someone of that caliber. (Again, like with Kyle, I made knowingly bad choices with three shidos on the board--but unlike with Kyle, he threw me with a beautiful, perfect Uchi Mata).
And then... I just started winning. Match, after match, after match. I had 4 wins up the losers bracket, before I faced the second favorite, and the guy who would go on to get second by a razor thin margin (three matches against Jack, each one determined by overtime shido, 2-to-1)--also ranked first in his weight class, normally a lower weight (73kg) than the one he was competing in today (like myself, sort of). He got an awesome counter on me when I went for a mediocre O Ouchi Gari, no shame, total loss.
It wasn't until later, when I looked at the bracket, that I realized I had tied for fifth. Kyle Wright, who had beaten me at Go Shibata, got 4th. 3rd was another nationally ranked guy who lost to Jack. The guy who got 3rd, btw, had exactly the same two loses (a loss to the guy who placed first and second each) as I did.
I tied for fifth out of seventeen, at one of the three major competitions in the US. It is among my proudest martial arts competition achievements, and probably by a significant margin my most prestigious. It's hard to imagine ever topping it--I can't shake the feeling that surely I'm just lucky.
In the end, at the approval of the Yudansha of our club, and after a satisfactory display of the Nage No Kata... On January 22, 2017, I tested for, and received shodan (1 dan) in Kodokan Judo, at Kokoro Judo, in Austin, TX.
I began training in Judo at Kokoro on February 11th, 2013. Since then I have attained 13 medals (9 golds and 4 silvers) between Judo and Sambo in that time, and another 8 in BJJ during that time.
Kokoro is a small non-profit club in a town without much Judo. We're also a young club. In spite of that, we've had some great talent from around the world come in at different times, and I've been greatly enriched by my time here. Glenn Macias, who runs the club, and started it while at ikkyu only about 6 years ago, is one of the humblest people I know, and I have the utmost respect for his character, and his Judo. While he likes to make jokes about the quality of his own Judo, he epitomizes the spirit of Judo more than anyone else I know. And I'm not just saying that. He shows up early and lays out a few dozen mats for us, every class. He has picked up and laid down at least many tens of thousands of mats for us--those mats are 40 lbs each. He teaches kids, , goes through Nick's workouts, and then keeps going and teaches adults right after--and then puts himself on the line in randori against the best and the worst, the heaviest and the lightest. He comes in whether he feels like it or not. He's there when the weather is bad. He drives through traffic for every class here--he does not live close. He knows every student, watches the progress of every student. He takes the repetitive task of showing the new guys the basics over, and over, and over again. He is not some natural athlete, but he still pushes himself every class to excellence, and even somehow works out in between classes still. I hope to be as dedicated at his age, and I truly find him an inspiration.
Likely very few people know this, but I rarely paid for classes my first couple years. Glenn knew I had almost no money. I couldn't afford my own place. I may have looked cool on motorcycles, but I drove a motorcycle because old Japanese bikes are cheap to buy, easy to work on, and cheap to insure, cheap on gas--they were the only transportation I could afford. For a couple years there, I didn't know what I was doing with my life, I couldn't find my way. I was depressed at times. He never hesitated, never asked, never pushed, never prodded. He was just there.
I knew, through that time, that I had an anchor, a place I could clear my mind, focus on a single goal, be with some kind people, and keep myself from deteriorating into the abyss.
As far as I can tell, for Glenn, Kokoro has one purpose: to give.
And I have received so much.
Thank you, Glenn.
And thank you all.
Judo does not exist for us as individuals. It exists for us only in relationship to our community.
[–]fleischlaberl 4 points 7 hours ago*
Judo and Mind
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/3zjobn/judo_and_mind/
Competition Judo and Principles
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/4g7nlq/a_different_way_to_learn_from_watching_high_level/
Principles of Balance in Judo
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/4do7bg/principles_of_balance_in_judo/
What can you learn in Judo competition
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/395hzt/what_can_you_learn_in_judo_competition_shiai/
Teaching Judo Principles
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/36fd4o/teaching_judo_principles/
Teaching Randori
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/4z85fh/how_do_you_teach_how_do_you_get_taught_randori/
Newaza Principles
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/34dsjm/newaza_grappling_principles/
Judo and Life
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/53b563/judo_in_a_broader_perspective/
Four exercises to push your results in competition
https://www.reddit.com/r/judo/comments/42lay3/four_exercises_to_push_your_results_in_competition/
P.S.: Not everything on topic, but just had to look for a quick summary myself ...
There is a never ending conflict between personality types that battles itself out in every field. The structuralists vs the deconstructionalists. That's what it comes down to.
We see this in martial arts as a never ending dialectic. But in martial arts, as in most realms in life, the structuralists control the dialogue.
"Drill, Drill, Drill." That's the message. It is the wrestler's credo, and BJJ culture in America has a widespread built-in respect for it, because that's our martial tradition... and because we're a structuralist society.
But there is another voice.
"The way to win in a battle according to military science is to know the rhythms of the specific opponents, and to use rhythms that your opponents do not expect, producing formless rhythms from rhythms of wisdom."
Creativity vs. Intensity.
Kit Dale is a deconstructuralist who rejects the dogma of structure and repetition.
“if you look at each situation in jiu jitsu as a something akin to a math problem or equation, then a technique is just one of several possible answers to that particular equation. Not only that, but in BJJ things are never quite the same. Something is always shifting or moving, so to apply the same answer to an equation that is forever in flux will lead to failure more often than to success.
But if you learn the formula (the underlying concepts or principles), in turn you can calculate the equation, using the formula in the moment to come up with your own solution.
Using this approach makes you unpredictable and relaxed in even the worst positions. Knowing you have the formula to find a solution, all you then need is the right timing. Understanding this enabled me to use different solutions for every problem and become unpredictable and innovative."
--
"I think today’s Jiu Jitsiero are too often willing to substitute study with strength training, innovation with imitation, problem solving with repetition drilling and expression with mimicry."
--
"It’s easy to over complicate things, but to simplify things takes intelligence."
--
"The ultimate goal in any art is to articulate what is in your mind into physical form – to honestly express yourself through a creation or performance.
In relation to Brazilian Jiu Jitsu this would NOT be by rehearsing rigid forms and patterns as responses to situations. Instead, it would entail ‘in the moment’ innovations. This approach allows one to remain fluid and deal with any situations which arise in ways that are both unpredictable and intelligent.
To drill something into muscle memory to the point where you don’t need to think but just react, is to become entrapped by that technique. And to chase perfect technique is like a dog chasing its tail around in circles."
--
While he expresses his belief that this is a revolution, he's only half right. Some people will never be won over, because at the foundation this is a clash between biologically based paradigms. He seems to come to terms with this in another blog post:
"If you brought me Student A and said,
“Kit, here is a very hard worker. They will listen to every word you say and do everything you ask. They’re strong and athletic, but can’t problem solve their way through a rotating door.”
My recommendation is for them to train 4 sessions a day. Break down each session into 70% high repetition drilling, 15% specific training, 15% sparring.
My opinion is that a focus on concepts and fundamental dynamics of jiu jitsu would only prove to confuse Student A, and could serve as a deterrent. Let’s give this student techniques to drill, the conditioning to push the pace and the mindset to implement. They COULD be the next world champion, but PROBABLY won’t ever be the next world class coach or jiu jitsu philosopher (goals aside).
I would also highly recommend Student A to focus on only a small area of the game and specialise in it. This will give them a positional edge in competition and they will be able to draw people into their area of expertise.
Attempting to learn a wide variety of techniques and positions and become well rounded will only prolong their learning progression. This path is usually an 8 -12 year black belt journey due to high volume of procedural information they will need to absorb, and eventually convert muscle memory.
Ultimately, what we would have is a jiu jitsu specialist. Someone with a very select skill set; a “one strategy fits all” approach. Forced to impose their will upon their opponents with reckless abandon.
Conversely:
If you brought me Student B and said,
“Kit, Student B is a highly intelligent. They have huge potential, but they lack enthusiasm. They are lazy and have no focus.”
Under these restraints I would recommend Student B spends as little time drilling and repeating as possible. Only enough to become physically aware of the technical requirements of any given technique. More focus must be exerted on learning the fundamentals and concepts; internalising information to knowledge rather than building muscle memory. From here Student B can apply this knowledge to discover their own style.
As an instructor and/or coach attempting to force a “lazy” person to work hard you run the risk of killing their motivation for training and make it unenjoyable; your student may even quit once the going gets tough.
But, what I am suggesting is that we teach them the strategies, fundamental and concepts in jiu jitsu. Then put them in an environment where they have plenty of rolling time to explore and develop. Ratios as high as 50% specific training, 50% sparring – broken up into four sections with Q and A’s to critically appraise and correct. The outcome is often an enjoyable one and it fosters an environment of growth and development without stagnation; allowing Student B to find a lifelong passion and endeavour.
This is the type of grappler will harbour the potential to take jiu jitsu to another level. Having a deep understanding and fluency in the language of jiu jitsu; being able to translate and teach it to others – conveying their knowledge back to raw information.
I feel this will also aid in extending mat time into their old age. This is because they will have developed a game that does not rely on fitness, strength and conditioning – but on technique, critical-thinking, problem solving and strategy.
I would recommend this type of grappler to study all positions aiming to become proficient and fluent in as many positions as possible.
There is no need to clutter their head and internalise thousands of techniques or drills – rather 30-100 concepts and a sound understanding of the fundamentals. This creates a faster rate of progression. The benefits are usually slow at the start, but growth comes exponentially faster.
The more fundamentals internalised, the more energy they can put into problem solving and innovating – using trial and error to come up with their own identity of jiu jitsu . Their own brand and, most importantly, their own expression of jiu jitsu.
This will usually take 4-8 years from white to black whilst creating a well rounded, creative strategist."
--
Here, he has grasped it; there is a continuum of personality, of paradigm, and it ranges from the form-obsessed to the formless.
Martial arts stagnated under the direction of the form obsessed. They brought us a mirage of reality by way of what are today referred to as "TMA", traditional martial arts. Repetition, drilling, kata.
Then, a new era dawned.
Jigoro Kano was a frail man in the late 1800's in Japan. The foundation of his art was not Katas; it was real, intense sparring. Katas were there. Perfect form theoretically still existed, and to this day, in Judo, there is a difference between the 'ideal' Judo and what is used to win the Olympics, illustrating clearly the history from which the art comes.
One of his students ended up teaching the men who became the source of a new movement in the Americas, under the banner of 'Brazilian Jiu Jitsu'. Katas were lost in the transmission. The art was transmitted in only a sense--the pragmatic sense--and then rebuilt. Freed from its stale forms, innovation and invention flourished. Judo specifically was designed, as a collection of techniques, to be comprised of those that existed in the middle ground of 'effective' but also 'safe to practice at full speed in sparring without maiming your partner'. As such, it provided the perfect seeds for a revolution.
BJJ took over the world not because grappling is better than striking. It took over the world because it was deconstructuralist. Those with a mind for formlessness generally could not stand the drudgery of repitition required in striking arts, and so were filtered out. But in BJJ, they found something interesting enough to captivate them. There was no more repitition--there was just play. Creation. Expression. Freedom.
But we live in a structuralist society. Structuralists are more likely to do something like start a school and show up on a consistent schedule.
Some structuralists rise to the top by brute force. Brute force should never be underestimated.
But it is the deconstructuralists, the free form players, that epitomize the sport. They are the ones who, being taught the techniques, see an underlying philosophy, grasp it, and expand upon it. Creation happens as a matter of course, without thought, as an expression of that philosophy.
This is the gift of deconstructuralism. But it comes with a price: a general lack of discipline. And that is the vacuum the structuralists fill.
