Jujitsu: A Love Story

Over a decade ago several brothers and I were conducting a fitness-and-fellowship class at our masjid (mosque) on Denver’s Eastside. Our program was a mixture of a physical, often times grueling regimen of workout routines and kenpo karate drills, along discussions, debates, and homework/essays about Islam, spirituality and self-improvement. Many of us who participated fondly remember the program to this day (and intend to resurrect it soon).

One weekend morning, our brother Curtis happened upon the class and after observing for a time, pulled me to the side and asked me what I knew about jujitsu. At the time, I had little idea that Curtis was a Brazilian Jujitsu black belt instructor at a well-known school in Aurora. I told him I knew only what I saw on TV, watching UFC fights.  Then Curtis said these fateful words: “Let me show you something…”

We kneeled together on the floor in the back room of the masjid, and my life changed forever. In a few quick moves, Curtis manipulated my body and wrapped an anaconda around my neck (actually his arms) and I am sure I saw the beginning of the universe while slowly blacking out.

In a moment, I was hooked – it was poetry, it was the “art” in martial arts. It was a narcotic and I happily succumbed.  Soon, I was spending Sundays with Curtis having my arms and shoulders bent in ways I am sure God did not intend. I was being subdued and garroted by my own shirt collars and later gi lapels. And I loved every minute of it. At home, safely away from Curtis – and later his partner Houcine, who ran a school in Castle Rock – yet seemed to find the time to travel to Denver just to torture me – I would study the art, reading books, watching online videos and ordering DVDs of tournaments.

After months of Sundays, I wanted more, so I sought out a school nearby. Another brother, Bumpy – as in “bumpy knuckles” - who was an MMA fighter (and a helluva local rapper) had joined our masjid circle, introduced me to a school called Grapplers Edge.

Grapplers (now called Edge MMA and Fitness) is a no-frills fighting academy located in the basement of a small store strip on Colfax. It is nested in the strip next to Radio Shack like a secret fight club – you can only see the door and you will miss it if you don’t look carefully.  The door leads immediately to a staircase. It’s pretty ominous. You know very quickly this is a place of sweat and dreams. The stair case wall is lined with autographed covers of martial arts magazines featuring any star martial artist you can imagine.  The next 2 things you notice at the same time: the smell and the insane amount of trophies and medals accrued by the head instructor and his students.

The smell is antiseptic and strong with an undertone of bricks, sweat and tears. It permeated my skin and made me realize, this is a place I would call home.

My first classes were Saturday open mats. I couldn’t get to the weekday classes due to my schedule. It just so happened that Saturdays, every expert fighter and a few coaches found the time to be there. This was a blessing and a curse.

I remember the first time I rolled on the mat (open mat meant there was little drilling – you just went at it – what we call randori or live-sparring). I matched up against this short, slight kid named Leo – easily all of 5’5”…

Leo immediately snatched me up in a standing headlock (I’m 6’4”) that made me tap so hard I probably looked like I was smacking him. It would not be the last time I would be humbled to the point of embarrassment.

The next opportunity presented itself in the form of a female, Heidi. Heidi was actually a judo instructor who was visiting Grapplers Edge to tune up her jujitsu ground game. (Note: jujitsu and judo are essentially the same art.) Heidi was at that time a thick, stocky blond – the easy caricature of a female Viking (now she is very many pounds lighter with a build that is super-model in semblance). In any case, being a judo black belt meant she was light years ahead of anything I could muster and she treated me like a rag-doll. I wheeled thru the air as if I were a stick being thrown to a dog, and when I hit the ground my limbs and neck basically betrayed their owner, doing her bidding.

So, my first memories of training at a jujitsu school include being destroyed by a dwarf and a girl...

I did not slink away, or stop going to class. I was in love. Jujitsu was stealing my heart more and more with every class, with every tap I had to make, with every painful lock applied to my joints, with every near-loss of consciousness. Every class was just that – a class, and I was the consummate student.  In my spare time I studied books and videos. I soaked up the history of jujitsu from Japan to Brazil. I watched and marvelled at competitors from Walid Ismail to Ryan Hall. Other names became familiar - the Gracies (of course), Jacare, Glover, Hall, Machado, Bravo, Caio, Drysdale, Marcello, and so on.

I learned. I got better.

I entered my tournament in 2005, a nervous wreck. I won my very first match. I cheered on my teammates. And I cheered on Curtis, who was repping his rival school – even finding myself cheering for him when he battled and defeated one of the world famous Pumphrey (featured on ESPN) brothers, despite the fact that the brother was actually competing under our school’s banner. (Curtis would often come over to my mat as I would compete over the years, yelling instructions to me – I would always be his student.)

Twelve years later, I still love to train. I have won medals, including championship gold – one I have proudly hung among the hundreds that adorn my school. I have boxed and fought MMA as an Edge fighter, but my first love remains the “gentle art”. Our discipline is Japanese, our pedigree from Master Wally Jay and Small Circle Jujitsu. Our sensei is a jujitsu and judo so we don’t get the respect of the more popular “Brazilian jujitsu” schools, but I understand it is all the same well from which the disciplines flow from – not to mention I/we have defeated plenty of bonafied BJJ competitors.

I honestly cannot say how good I am at jujitsu. I don’t like to compare myself to others, and for the most part, if I do, I don’t think am not that good. Today, I go to class and I am rag-dolled by Anthony our newest instructor, and by Thiago, our resident BJJ teacher. And there's still the torture by teammates who are still some of the best athletes in the state, if not country. I still marvel at how easy the coaches make the movements, the decisions, and the final result – my submission seem. Some of it is me getting older and slower, but for the most part, it is still magic to me. It is still mysterious. And I am still the incredulous student.

In 12 years I have not progressed much through a belt system – my head coach promoted me to green belt some years ago – effectively a high blue belt in the BJJ system. Our school preserves the notion that belts are for show – a very American ideal that martial arts systems pandered to as various schools took root in America. At Edge, we often say, the color we want is gold (trophies and medals).

At 46 years of age, I hurt all over because of jujitsu. I have strained everything. Broken a few things. A few months ago, a stray piece of tendon somehow poked through my elbow, hanging like a string. (I snipped it off with a pair of barber scissors and went on with my day - thanks, ObamaCare...) I have a cauliflower ear that is both an annoyance and yet a badge. I have an ego that is probably the size of another person, if not a small state, yet jujitsu strips it from me and I do not ever miss it.

Jujitsu makes me small, wondrous, and child-like – yet I do not feel my person is reduced. I embrace this violent art and am overwhelmed by a sense of peace that I don’t always find in my very own religion whose name embodies that very concept. Then again, perhaps jujitsu is more an aspect of my religion than I realize.  What I do know and will always testify to is that I am, as ever, absolutely, and still, in love with this art that is jujitsu.