If trampled by the Elephant of Doubt do SOMETHING!

Many fencers end up in a kind of limbo-land when fencing. They think about attacking and then re-consider, semi-engage the opponent's blade then pull away. It's not really a reconnaissance, more an aborted intention. And ultimately it achieves nothing! It's much better to make up your mind and do something, Pick one technique that you like and keep plugging away, particularly in practice matches; it's what practice is for. If you find a technique that is working, make it work more often. Each fencer has their own unique style, your coach can help you in the right direction but you need to find it and refine it for yourself.

The Elephant of Doubt

Last night I was discussing with my crew how to induce doubt into your opponent's mind. I described it in a semi-humourous way as 'introducing an elephant of doubt' into their minds. Whilst half-joking I was also trying to make a point. Usually of course, the expression is 'element of doubt' which to me suggests a small to reasonable amount. I want to introduce a whacking great elephant of doubt into my opponents; a long-trunked, big eared pachyderm of trepidation. I certainly don't want my opponent getting too comfortable whilst fencing me so I try to introduce different rhythms and techniques in order to do this. A particular favourite is the beat attack on the opponent's preparation. Execute this a couple of times with good timing as they step towards you and they will soon be in a quandary. Do they move forward? If so how? If they are a smart fencer they will then consider inviting your beat attack on preparation and attempt to parry it, probably taking a smaller step in so they can have the space to do so. Which is when you get them with a beat disengage! And the elephant of doubt trumpets yet again...

So, where's your halo Dave?

It would be quite fair for a reader of the previous post to riposte with "So what gives you the right to criticise Mr Nadi Dave?" Well, nothing at all really and I certainly don't expect anyone to pay much attention to what I say on this blog. For me, fencing is a very enjoyable hobby plus a way of improving myself. Coaching is my way of trying to transmit some of that enjoyment to others and blogging is another extension of that. I like thinking about fencing, it's problems, challenges and fundamentals but I have no pretensions to glory, academic acknowledgement or posterity, I just like what I do. I make a point never to get paid for coaching at the clubs I attend; I tried it once and didn't like it. If you take a fee you also inherit certain responsibilities; by volunteering my experience I am free from some of those burdens. Also, I have my own style which may not be appreciated by everyone and I wouldn't want people to feel financially defrauded! I would probably accept a fee for one-off beginner group sessions as within these there is no real room to elaborate beyond the basic syllabus but I prefer to do the more advanced things for free. I am certainly never going to make a living from my coaching! I have never attained any significant successes at competition but I am proud of those I have achieved. I also long gave up the opinion that winning is more important than taking part. However, I am well aware that whilst winning is not everything, it sure takes the sting out of losing! I guess some of the opinions expressed on this blog may cause some affront to others, but I mean no offense and my opinions are like share prices; the value is variable and depends on the worth assigned by the audience. My view of fencing as a way of self improvement is unconventional, as is my belief that there are comparisons to be made between it and the martial arts of the East. I am sure there are exponents of both sides of this divide that would find that particular belief nonsensical! I am equally sure that there are fencers who wonder what all the fuss is about and why I get my breeches in such a twist over things that seem trivial. My only excuse dear reader is that they matter to me and I feel they are worth thinking about. Some may say "get a life Dave" but I've got one thanks and fencing is quite a significant part of it. I do not seek approval for any opinions shared here, just consideration that there are more things to the sport than stabbing someone!

The Two Sides of Aldo Nadi

Recently I have been reading two books by the same author, Aldo Nadi. He was an Italian born fencer of the early 20th century who is widely hailed as the best fencer of his generation. The first title I read was "Nadi On Fencing" (kindly gifted me by my friend Ian) in which the man explains his fencing philosophy and techniques for the beginner as an instruction manual on fencing the Nadi way. The second title was his autobiography entitled "The Living Sword" (leant to me by the same friend) in which he details his life's exploits from his childhood in Italy to his later exodus to America. The first title, though hard going and technically detailed was very valuable in terms of the philosophy and learning demonstrated within the pages. The second title was quite frankly, ludicrously vain, nearly unbelievable and one of the most spiteful autobiographical accounts I have read (with the possible exception of "Me and My Mouth" by Austin Healey the rugby player). The contrast between the two was so marked it is difficult to rationalise the man and his character. In his treatise on fencing Nadi certainly comes across as opinionated but those opinions are supported by clearly described facts and scenarios that a fencer can understand and agree with. Some of his thinking echoes writings of earlier and more diverse authorities on the art of the sword, showing that there are principles of swordplay that are almost universal. I find it impossible that Nadi would have ever heard of some of the Japanese sources I regularly quote but his intuitive understanding based on experience and practice of the fundamental psychology and technique of the blade mirror those of Musashi and Munenori. I found some of his comments highly instructive and would urge anyone interested in improving their technique to study this book; not all is relevant today but much of it is. So then, why does his autobiography jar so painfully with me as a reader? I suppose that some of my discomfiture is caused by Nadi being very much a man of his time i.e. an early 20th century Italian male with pretensions (some might say delusions) to glory. In that sense it is almost excusable that he is a misogynist, a serial philanderer/adulterer, a snob (he 'loathes peasants' - despite coming from a working class background), an inveterate and unrepentant gambler, hypocritically vain and in the latter parts of the book a bitter and sour critic of all that fails to match his standards. It is probably also understandable that his dislike of his brother and rival was inculcated by his obsessive father and fencing master, as was his overwhelming superiority complex and contempt for most of his peers. So in many ways Nadi should be forgiven for being a product of his times, peers and upbringing. But.... I think the things that rankle with me on a personal basis is the sense of a great gift squandered. Nadi makes it clear that as a 'professional' he will only fence for money and is also prepared to rig outcomes for the right amount of purse. He prostitutes his skills around Europe, disdainfully dispatching all-comers until he has no-one left to humiliate. Then he heads off to America to see if he can wring more money from his 'profession' over there. He only turns to coaching (seeing it as beneath him in the early years) when he no longer makes money from competition, although one could argue albeit generously that his book "On Fencing" may be an attempt to benefit posterity rather than ego or bank balance. I suppose the idea that someone could make money just from competition fencing is a fantastic one in this modern age and may distance my own opinions from the reality of the day, but I never get the sense that Nadi enjoyed his art that much. He is either complaining about others, transparently excusing himself from blame/error, or obsessively trying to live up to some imagined goal or ideal that he has no way of attaining. Certainly his father has much to blame for Nadi's fundamental insecurity; a salutary lesson for masters, coaches and parents everywhere in how not to do things. It is also a near tragedy that someone who is so obviously brilliantly talented should be so persistently unpleasant a person. Delve into his thoughts on fencing by all means but beware his example as a role model.

Discipline and Mindfulness

This weekend I was reminded of two qualities a fencer (and a fencing coach) should have; discipline and mindfulness.
At the club on Saturday we had to move into more cramped quarters for a while whilst our usual venue was reserved for exams. The venue was smaller and meant that there was less room around the edges of pistes etc. Those of us familiar with fencing clubs will appreciate the fact that this meant being very careful where you were walking and being mindful of distractions. Whether it was the novelty of the situation or something but I had to ultimately have a stern word with my young charges to be aware of what they were doing. It is vital for a coach to be mindful of everything that is going on in the salle; other fencers may not be so prudent. It takes discipline.
My students were also prone to wander off or not pay attention when judging. This sometimes seem like a mundane task to young fencers (and even older ones) but is a vitally important part of fencing. It requires discipline to stay focussed on a fight when other exciting things may be happening but that's the way it is. People want judges for their own fights so it's only fair to help others out as well when the time comes. Besides, it also improves your observation, attention to detail and fencing knowledge.
Being mindful of things requires discipline and this was again brought home to me in the afternoon when I attended a coaching seminar. We were working on some lesson plans that required us (in the role of the pupil) to stay on guard and then respond to various openings presented by the coach before returning to and maintaining our guard. This required both physical discipline but also mindfulness of our stance. I decided to really concentrate on my balance, keeping it between my hips, finding out exactly when it shifted forward or backward, which miniscule movements made a difference. It was surprising how much effort it took to remain in what I considered a good stance and also worrying how easy it was to lose it again. Once the legs started to ache it was even harder!
So these two traits are vital to a fencer in my opinion; the mindfulness of small but vital details and the discipline to react to and deal with them.

A few more words from Yagyu Munenori...

Another couple of extracts from the Shinkage Ryu Master...
"A hasty attack is an exceptionally bad thing. The thing is to press aggressively only after having properly prepared yourself mentally and having observed the situation thoroughly once the face-off has begun. It is essential not to get flustered."
"When an opponent is startled and the feeling of opposition is distracted, the opponent will experience a gap in reaction time. Even simple, ordinary gestures like raising your hand are used to distract an opponent's attention."
It never ceases to amaze me how relevant words written 500 years ago in another country, about a totally different world (i.e potentially lethal combat) are so directly relevant to my chosen sport and past time (i.e. a highly diluted martial tradition turned into sport). OK, they take a bit of thinking about but that's why we fence isn't it? I guess this is why I enjoy what I do in the fencing world; it's more than a sport, it's more than just coaching, it's a way of seeing and moving with things.
A friend once said to me "fencing is fundamental to my well-being". I think it's the same for me.

What's On Your Mind?

What do you think after you've been hit by an opponent? Is it "Ouch!" or "What the..." or "........."? I would suggest the best thing to be thinking would be "How did they do that?" If you're not learning from the experience then you are not deriving value from it. You must think. As Musashi once wrote "Learn to see everything accurately".

Simple attacks; compound enjoyment

Last night I gave a lesson on the basics of the compound attack. As a coach this is a lesson I really like doing as it is a good subject to get one's teeth into. To me, the compound attack embodies all that is fun about fencing and allows some of the subtleties of the sport to surface. Allow me to explain why.... The compound attack used to be called the composed attack in some quarters back in the day. This is because it is composed of more than one blade movement, one of which is a feint made in order to deceive a parry. Therefore it requires more precision in it's execution and as such is much more demanding than a simple lunge. It is also a tactical or premeditated attack which depends on the fencer having a sufficient level of ability in order to make it and a sense of observation developed beyond the elementary, but more of that later. The basic foundation of a compound attack is distance. If you try it when you are too close to the opponent you will not have the room necessary to execute it and it will end in a tangle of blades and most likely a flat hit. Therefore you must commence the attack at a slightly longer range and use that distance to execute your feint, which will provoke your opponent's parry. The second component of the attack is speed. Again, if you attempt a compound too fast you will not succeed, not only because the technique must be executed accurately and calmly but also because the feint has to be slow enough for your opponent to see it. Now let's back up over that last statement again. "Surely fencing is about lightning fast attacks that dazzle and befuddle your opponent Dave?" I hear you ask. Well yes and no. Think about it; if your opponent can't see what you're doing he can't react to it (i.e. he won't parry your feint) therefore your compound attack will fail. It's one of those little fencing paradoxes. You have to make the feint attack slow and obvious enough to give your opponent time to react BUT (and it's a big but) your second movement to deceive the parry must be fast enough to prevent a subsequent reaction. Therefore, the compound attack is essentially a two speed or slow-quick move. The first feint is slow and the completion is fast, all done with an accelerating lunge. The third component of the compound is that it turns fencing from a wholly physical activity to a cerebral one. You are starting to anticipate, provoke and control your opponent's moves which is a different type of challenge and enjoyment altogether. The other aspect of this increased mental activity is that you have to really see what your opponent does. If they constantly parry laterally then you feint direct and then disengage; if they parry in a circular fashion all the time then you feint direct and counter-disengage; if they parry low then you feint low and finish high. In order to do this you need to really have to pay attention to your opponent's strengths/habits and use them against them. So as you can see, the compound attack is a complete evolution from the simple attack. Once a fencer can begin to appreciate this attack they can really begin to enjoy their sport on a different level. Executing it correctly every time becomes the next evolution and that can take a lot longer!