One of the things I appreciate about Val's blog is her struggle with the issue of competing. You never get the sense that she'll stop training, but the role, importance and value of competing is often a major philosophical debate.
I had a pretty okay run as a white belt. But the fact that any tournament I compete in for the next 2-3 years at least will be as a blue belt/intermediate, has me reading her thoughts and reflections on competing with new attention. On the one hand, as a white belt competitor I had an attitude and chip on my shoulder that won't exist as a blue belt competitor (I thought I was above being beaten by fellow white belts). So, there should be a slackening of expectations as I step up to compete as a blue belt.
On the other hand, who am I kidding? I won't care if the other guy is a six-day-a-week-training, four-year blue belt. I'll have the same feeling losing to him as I did to a six-month white belt. That takedown was solid! Where are my points? Pass the guard, pass the guard ... Aw, shit! Dammnit! Another triangle choke!
Niceties aside, winning is winning and losing is losing.
So why compete? I remember reading about how Kron Gracie, who just won the brown belt division at the Mundials, submitted opponent after opponent at the Pan Ams. He finished something like five opponents in a total of three minutes or something crazy like that.
I remember entering my next tournament thinking about how I wanted to be like Kron: tapping out dudes like nobody's business. Wouldn't that be great? Sure it would!
I did alright and ended up winning first place. But it was another victory without submission, against a guy I was pretty much able to smash once I passed his guard.
With that in mind, my favorite passage from the film Officer and a Gentleman:
Gunnery Sergeant: Why would a slick hustler like you sign up for this abuse?
Mayo: I want to fly jets.
Gunnery Sergeant: My grandmama wants to fly jets.
Mayo: I've always wanted it!
Gunnery Sergeant: We're not talking about flying. We're talking about character.
In other words, we're not talking about winning, or submissions. And we're damn sure not talking about being Kron Gracie. We're talking about competing with class, competing with technique, competing with spirit. "Leaving it all on the mat" as the cliche goes, and being hungry for the opportunity to do it again.
It also means preparing yourself properly. "Leaving it all on the mat" doesn't just refer to effort, I don't think. It means that you've pulled every rabbit out of every hat, tried every guard pass and guard replacement, every choke and armbar, attacked at every opportunity your opponent gave you. More than raw cardiovascular "effort", it's a sort of total awareness you want to enter. A true mind-body connection. Everything you know applied to every chance you get.
That's what I think you want out of competition. More than winning or losing (though, of course "winning" instead of "losing"), you want that "aliveness", what philosopher Karl Jaspers called "Existenz" ...
the indefinable experience of freedom and possibility; an experience which constitutes the authentic being of individuals who become aware of "the encompassing" by confronting suffering, conflict, guilt, chance, and death.
