BJJ journalist/enthusiast, Tom Bell, pays tribute to the typical guy that graces the mats all over the world

I’m not going to lie, when Mike over at Break invited me to write this blog, I happily accepted, but I didn’t know what I’d be writing about. I hadn’t a clue, not one, zero, nada, nothing. The idea’s vault was empty. It’s a strange one, normally I’ll be the one listening and reading; it’s normally me who’s saying “you do the talking” as I stick a microphone in somebody’s face, or ringing them up on their way home from training, but essentially this is me at the other side of the microphone. It’s strange and I was struggling, my thinking cap was there, but it didn’t seem to fit anymore.

Time passed by, ideas were scrutinised, ideas were forgotten (I’ve got myself a shiny new whiteboard in my work area now. It’s like an idea safety net!) I was still struggling as the deadline doomed. I’d made myself a promise earlier in the year that I would be a little more proactive and less reactive when it came to writing and experiencing UK BJJ to further myself as writer, but here I was, struggling to do that.

It was this promise to myself that prompted me to contact Lawrence Dutton of BJJ247. He’s one of my team mates, a purple belt at Gracie Barra Preston and has been involved in organising Jiu-Jitsu tournaments, internationally, for some five years with Grab and Pull. Many of the staff at those events are from my gym, I enjoyed training and hanging with those guys and I wanted to see more of the scene, so I offered to work for him as event staff. He took me up on my offer and this year has seen me travel to more places and be more involved than I have ever been. It’s been a fantastic decision, truly.

I realise, you’re probably asking why I’m banging on about a decision I made when I’ve been discussing my sieve of a mind, but that decision handed me the topic, or blog post, I’d like to put out there. My time at these events has had me watch more hours of competitive Jiu-Jitsu within six months than I have within three years of training and writing. Yes, without Lawrence organising these competitions I couldn’t do it, but furthermore, the real reason I can do it, is you guys reading this.

Watching so many fights in competitions has given me a new level of appreciation for the competitive practitioner. I am not talking about the highest level of our sport, that talent, dedication and sacrifice is evident at the likes of the Pan Ams, the Euros, the British Open and the Worlds; but I’m talking about the local level. The mats thrown down in a local sports hall, there isn’t an arena in sight, but it’s the same blood, sweat and tears. I have the gift of seeing the fruits of the everyday competitor’s labour every time I walk into a competition and you all deserve credit – every single one of you.

You see, it’s you guys who deserve the praises, but you seldom get it outside of your team. I see guys from all walks of life, you’ve all got a story, you all started this journey for your own personal reasons and there are so many people out there who have benefitted from taking that first step. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who I don’t like at a competition. Don’t get me wrong, some of you have serious game faces, but once you’ve done your thing, you’ll not see more smiles than at a Jiu-Jitsu competition.

I see guys who are nervous as hell and feel bad about it, but you know what, you should never feel bad. What you do on those days takes balls because you’ve put so much more on this than just a shout at winning a medal or two. Their fight is longer than five or six minutes, it’s three months, it’s weekly, it’s sometimes every day they train.

Every single competition, there is far more than one competitor in that building who has wagered an awful lot just to be there. They have balanced their work and family, even at great cost, to train their arses off and fight to even fill that registration page in online. I mean, I’ve seen it in person at my own team. It happens every time.

Every competitor is facing a battle and some battles are greater than wanting to be number one. They don’t want to be a world champion, they just want to prove something to themselves. They want to prove to their wife that their sacrifice has been worth it, they want to make people proud who don’t even know what Jiu-Jitsu is.

There’s guys out there who scrape together what money they have just to train each month. Guys who are at peace with the idea of never competing at the top level, but that small competition that day, that insignificant entry on a global grappling calendar is as big as the Worlds to them. They have put themselves through hell, been victim of a knee ride to the nearest coast and back, been submitted in record time in the gym and entered without even having confidence that they’ll make the podium. But they keep doing it and they deserve this nod.

There are guys like Reece, a blue belt from the North East. He doesn’t train with the best guys in the world, but he turns up at practically every competition he can and he will fight anybody. His efforts led him to taking gold in the British Open’s blue belt absolute. Another guy, I couldn’t tell you his name but he can be found with Poland shaved into hair and often wears a black and yellow Tatami gi. He’s there every event. I couldn’t afford to compete that much, but those guys make it happen.

Lawrence once told me of someone who registered for three competitions the minute they were announced. That’s almost £200 coming out of his account for competitions up to six months down the line. That guy could be injured, he could lose his job, but he doesn’t care. He just does it.

The single parent, the minimum wage earner, the student who’s sometimes turns their back on study to go and train, the one who is having a great week training just because they’ve made it in twice in seven days, the guy who doesn’t just ‘get it’, you who works in a manual job, is too tired to go training but drags themselves anyway, the woman has to get her glad rags on at the weekend with bruises on her legs, the white collar worker trying to hide the bruises on their neck, the guy who loses at every comp he goes to, the one who constantly gets ridiculed for loving this sport, by the guy who’ve never put a gi on, the guy who had to blag a lift because he registered to compete but couldn’t afford the train that month, but he’ll never admit it to his team mates. It’s you who makes this scene what it is.

Competing is a very real risk of failure, not just publicly but personally. People who step on to the competition mat know this but they do it anyway. They’re the everyday competitor and they are more than inspirational to not just me, but their team mates as well as their professors and coaches. They know they aren’t born to do this, but hell they’re going to try their hardest anyway.

So this is a nod to you, to encourage you to keep on, keeping on. Keep entering those competitions and keep winning those battles. You are the essence of Jiu-Jitsu and you’re all living the fantasy of the Jiu-Jitsu lifestyle out of your own time, pocket, effort and pride … and every credit to you. What you do is inspirational.

Take this ode (albeit it without the lyrics or rhyming), read it and know that it’s you I’m talking about, we all know what you sacrifice just to do what you do. If I could, I’d slap hands, bump fists and have a friendly roll with all of you. Good vibes, you all deserve them.

A final word from Tom-

Hoping to release news about a podcast project later this year, so follow my page on Facebook for updates on that and to see what I’m up to. Quick shout out to Jiu-Jitsu Style, BJJ247 and everyone who I’ve met and worked with. Also to my professors and team mates at Gracie Barra Preston for keeping me hungry, encouraged and improving. Feel free to any readers to come and train. Also a thanks to you for having me, I can’t wait to see you progress within this crazy little world we live in.

Break – Our pleasure.