#gracie bjj

[nandostateofmind]

Becoming A Purple People Eater……….

Goodbye to the Blue Belt and Hello to the Responsibility……..

On December 9. 2023, it happened. The moment I dreamed of and the moment I feared all at once. Class was over and they sent us to sit. There’s anticipation in the air. Everyone is wondering why we are being directed to sit. This is jiu jitsu after all and promotions tend to come in seasons. My time had already come in September, I received my third stripe on my blue belt. I was happy as could be with that particular stripe because I know they judge harshly at my gym nothing is given, everything earned. I learned this the hard way being wondering aloud if my third stripe on my belt is the result of nepotism. When I made this statement on my blog I was told, with no hesitation or confusion, that I was not above the art. That my professor/ great friend does not care about my feelings above the art. That nothing was ever given without being earned that he wouldn’t tarnish the brand of the gym or the art itself to protect my feelings from how badly I suck. So, with that said I wasn’t due in my opinion.

Now when promotions are announced there is always an air of, who’s due? Who’s ready? And, this guy is long overdue. I love promotion day. Not because of me improving or expecting a promotion. I secretly enjoy being undervalued. I like sandbagging. I like being undersold. I like underselling and over delivering. I love to see promotions because I feel like in the gym on those mats is the only place where hard work is actually acknowledged, where putting in the work is a real thing. Where someone comes to test them against genuine resistance and see where they are. They are hard fought and rarely are they given without them being truly deserving.

With all of this said I was not overdue. I was not ready. I wasn’t not “sandbagging,” I was a decent blue belt. Now when someone gets promoted a bit early like myself they often say, “they will grow into the belt.” Well, I’m in my growing phase. This belt has a lot of stigma to it if the YouTube videos I watch are to be believed. The clichés you hear are this, “this is the first advanced belt,” “a modern-day purple belt is as good as a 1990s black belt because the game has expanded so much,’ or my favorite cliché, which is, “if the professor gives you a purple belt that means he believes one day you will receive your black belt.” Well if those things are to be believed then I am feeling the pressure. There’s level to this game. Some purple belts can consistently submit black belts when they are elite at some aspect of their game, let’s say something like leglocks. Some purple belts compete frequently and are superior athletes. Then there’s me chubby 40-year dad of 2 with a job who works a lot of overtime. I also have an ego. I like to win and do well as much as anyone. So, there is that desire and drive to improve because for once something is actually expected of me. Here’s what my best is for what happened……

I went on a jiu jitsu retreat by a miracle. Someone couldn’t make it and I was allowed to take their spot. It was an incredible experience. I did miss my family but the trip was unbelievably worth it. Amazing food, people and experiences so much wildlife. Most importantly while I was there I got to experience rolling with my professor for the first time. It went exactly as expected. He destroyed me with such ease it felt like we weren’t doing the same martial art. I was dying and he was relaxed just moving and playing. I have no idea what he saw during that roll. I have no idea what he saw in me upon return from Costa Rica either but he felt I was working and decided it was time. How in the hell am I going to question him? I am unworthy of questioning his judgment at all so here I am with the weight of his decision looking into the future, hoping to never disappoint him. That’s the pressure or purple and role I have as a 40-year old.

Then there’s the role I love, the teacher. I love when I understand something really well and can explain it proficiently. Now, I have no illusions of owning a school one day. I don’t plan on being a legendary competitor that began in his 40s somehow. I don’t have a wrestling background no matter how much I wish I did. No judo and I’m not Brazilian. My whole goal is to one day be good enough to teach. That’s it. Nothing more nothing less. I’m returning from injury and being out for 6 weeks. So, here I am returning to the mats after a hiatus ready to get after it. Looking to get better, looking to not be someone’s rest round, looking to be worthy of the belt. Brown is off in the distance, I am not in any rush. So, let’s lift up our glasses and toast to purple.

[simpleman193]

Some very wise words..

[claudionogueira40-blog]

[theronindiaries]

[littlebitoflexii]

Who wants to sponsor me to get back into BJJ? 🥹❤️ anyone?

[immortalsins]

once again tried out jiujitsu in the hopes i’d like it this time. the place didn’t seem as cult-y as some of the others (gracie barra looking at you) but this guy did say smth along the lines of ‘you’ll 100% be indoctrinated into the bjj life’ in all seriousness whilst seatbelt gripping me

[torontommagym]

Martial arts have been practiced for centuries, and each style offers its own unique benefits. Brazilian jiu-jitsu (BJJ) is a modern martial art that has quickly gained popularity over the years, due to its versatility and effectiveness in self-defense. But what makes BJJ stand out from other martial arts? We’ll discuss five reasons why BJJ is an excellent choice as a martial art.

[coronangelic1]

my arm made a funny sound today at jiu jitsu im sure it means nothingggg

[nandostateofmind]

Blue Belt Bliss………

The Joy of Being One of the Big Fish in the Little Pond…….

The guy who rides the bench in the NBA is like Wilt Chamberlain in the YMCA he can drop a 100 on the courts. The guy in triple A baseball was a legend in his high school. The guy on the PGA tour who doesn’t have name recognition is better than everyone you know who is a hobbyist by far. The mma fighter in the amateurs can probably kick the ass of 99.9% of untrained people fairly easily. They all have one thing in common. They all dream of being the best of being in the big leagues. They may never make it to what they believe is their goal. They have however achieved a super high level of proficiency in their chosen field. They are great just not next level great. However, in their world they had to have been really good for their level and that had to feel awesome even if they didn’t achieve their ultimate goal.

Now a black belt in Brazilian jiujitsu that’s someone in the starting five NBA. That’s the starting center fielder in the MLB. That’s the guy who you know on the PGA tour but isn’t necessarily the winner of the tournament. That’s the guy in the UFC who isn’t the champion but who made the roster. There’re obviously levels in all of these fields, the Michael Jordans of the world, the Derek Jeter, the Tiger Woods or the Connor McGregor. However, in Brazilian Jiujitsu being a black belt is hard, like really hard. So being a black belt of any level is something to be respected. It is normally about a ten-year journey. A journey plagued by injuries, becoming stagnant, and lots and lots of getting your ass kicked along the way. Black belt is hard.

I’m a blue belt. I’m confident in that. I’m not confused there’s no real doubt in my mind. I don’t mind it. I train Brazilian jiujitsu this is a life long journey. I hear a lot of guys talk about wanting to get promoted and that is cool. I respect I dream if it, but also, I’m in no rush. Right now, I give blue belts what I consider competitive rolls. I submit some purple belts sometimes and on some rare days I may catch a brown belt who was letting me work a bit too much. I worry that I suffer from imposter syndrome sometimes. As though maybe I think I’m improving and I’m not actually improving. It’s hard to gauge. What I do know for a fact is right now I’m good. There’s no pressure at blue belt. If I catch a purple belt I’m like oh nice I’m getting better. If I get submitted by a white belt I can just say hey I’m only a blue belt.

Right now, I’m riding playing high school basketball, baseball, or golf. There’s no pressure and there is that confidence that against someone untrained and without a weapon I will probably do okay. Amongst my training partners I’m not the most feared and I’m no one’s rest round either. I am just enjoying the ride. All pressure of belt chasing isn’t on me I am in the zone where I love my martial art, I love my academy and training partners, and I love my rank. I get to be the big fish in the little pond right now. The high school player with the nice average. Let me sandbag for a bit. Let me improve my game. I don’t want to really grow into my belt. I want there to be no doubt that I am a purple belt when I achieve that rank. People say there is this thing called blue belt blues. That’s because blue belt is the belt with the widest gap in knowledge so you can spend a really long time as a blue belt. I think that on this matter it is about perspective because right now I am in blue belt bliss. I got my third stripe and I got it from a close friend. Maybe it was nepotism, which I doubt because he is a tough judge. Either way, I love this I don’t have no where to be I think I will stay for a while.

[randomrainman]

why jiu-jitsu will never be mainstream

I will preface this by saying that I absolutely love jiu-jitsu. Aside from debilitating and potentially permanent injuries from zigging instead of zagging, a perpetually bruised ego, and constant gasps for life from training partners using you as a sentient, pyjama-clad Bosu ball, it can be a beneficial fixture in one's life: it can allow for a (relatively) healthy form of stress relief, foster a cult environment in which people can learn from each other, and pressure-test difficult scenarios to achieve optimal results. Jiu-jitsu will also let you know, often in the most miserable ways possible, just how much you don't know.

In a sense, it is its very own Petri dish, complete with its own set of infections.

My Beginnings

The last-known picture of myself (with my 1SG) while I was still in the Army. Notice how perfectly our uniforms blend with the grass.

My jiu-jitsu journey could be classified as an accident, much like me. After I returned from Iraq in 2009, I was scheduled to attend Level 1 of the Modern Army Combatives Program, or MACP. Mandated by Army for NCO development, the week-long course purports to familiarise participants with the bare essentials of hand-to-hand combat, to include strikes and grappling. Though I had a few conflicts in earlier times in my life, I could hardly consider myself a "fighter", and, despite having an above-average PT score, my thorough unfamiliarity with combat techniques sapped my energy like a hungry mosquito in the middle of a blistering Philippine summer.

During live training on one of the final days of the course, I was partnered with someone who was much smaller than my 225-pound self; he could not have been much heavier than 170. This shouldn't be so bad, I thought nervously. What's the worst that could happen? The timer rang.

From the go, I deferred to the tried-and-true, time-tested, culture-spanning methodology utilised by many an untrained individual: the classic hnnngh. I huffed, heaved, and hnnnghed around this dude's short legs for 30 desperate seconds trying to get past them, and just as soon as I thought I was getting somewhere, the last thing I saw was a crotch fly toward my face.

My left arm and my head were suddenly incapacitated and trapped in a vise made entirely of human limbs. I saw every constellation in the known universe in those three long seconds, and it was then that I pulled out my trusty ace in the hole, a technique I had learned earlier to escape any position, no matter how dangerous -- furious and repeated taps. I stared at him with incredulity as he released me from the impending throes of unconsciousness. "What in the hell was that?" I asked laboriously, still struggling to regain my faculties. "A triangle," he responded. "I do jiu-jitsu." Neat.

A few months before my ETS in 2010, a friend and fellow Soldier I originally met in Korea, Larry, told me about a Brazilian jiu-jitsu gym near our home base of Fort Hood (now Fort Cavazos), and proposed that we both go. Why not, I thought, reflecting on my dismal MACP experience. I clearly have a lot to learn.

So I made my choice.

Myself (as a purple belt) and some new friends I had the privilege of training while in Afghanistan.

American Fight Company. Hardcore, I thought. But makes sense. A large, hand-painted mural of Royce Gracie's logo loomed over the gym's white mats, which teemed with students in equally white robes conducting warm-ups. I would apparently require one of those silly garments to train; to that end, I purchased my first "gi", as I learned they were called, and an accompanying crispy white belt. Ripping the plastic packaging open, I examined my new training apparel: the pants' stitching appeared to be quite tough, especially in the crotch area, and the collar on the jacket was extremely thick, especially when compared to my ACUs, which were made of one-ply toilet paper. Flowery embroidery enveloped the upper left of the gi top, whose black threads elegantly trailed down to a bold monochromatic patch on the lower lapel. "BREAKPOINT", it read. Gnarly.

Jarrod, a rugged Texan and veteran with a grizzled, grey-speckled beard, demonstrated a technique on a student. The tattered brown sash which encircled his waist danced through the air like ribbons in the wind as he floated from position to position, methodically settling into an armlock submission at the sequence's conclusion. Now it was our turns to try, and it went about as well as expected for me: I flopped all over my training partner, a much more experienced white belt, with all the grace and finesse of a disoriented three-legged deer, narrowly avoiding clobbering him in the dome with errant knees or heels as I practiced getting to the submission.

Then we had to go live.

To say that I learnt valuable lessons that day was an understatement: while I proved tough and indubitably capable of sustaining a lot of pain, it also made clear that I knew absolutely nothing about grappling, even if I was already pretty sure of that fact before. The trifecta of sheer top pressure, staving off innumerable submission attempts, and overall physical exertion filled my muscles with lactic acid and caused my lungs to burn with the intensity of a thousand thermonuclear explosions.

Despite my exhaustion and ineptitude, I was lauded for my perseverance, and that alone was enough to keep me returning to American Fight Company for more knowledge (and, of course, punishment). I received my first stripe on my white belt from Jarrod before accepting a contract in Korea, where I continued on the pathway of martial arts development in the realms of muaythai, jiu-jitsu, and eventually, mixed martial arts. Jarrod earned his black belt shortly after I departed.

Before my fight in Korea, during which I expertly tore nearly every ligament in my left knee (photographer unknown).

As of this post, I am a three-stripe brown belt, and by all measurable metrics, the world's most awful: I have two herniated cervical discs, including one fusion; my knees are shredded beef, and, in addition to being deconditioned, I experience a myriad of inexplicable, and often sharp, pains throughout my body. Nevertheless, my time around jiu-jitsu, both as a participant and a photographer, has afforded me the opportunity to make a variety of observations and criticisms about my beloved sport, which brings me to my point:

Jiu-jitsu will never be a mainstream spectator sport.

I can hear it already. "Hold your horses, buddy! It's more popular than ever!" Well, actually, you would be 100% correct. It is more popular and practiced than it ever was at any point in history, if only due to the fact that, as a standalone martial art, it is only a century old. An ever-growing list of celebrities, including Meta founder Mark Zuckerberg and actors Tom Hardy and Mario Lopez, have embraced the grappling art and have even competed in it.

If your martial art can make it into a popular show that is definitely not about your martial art, then something is working, even if no one has a clue what's happening. And yes, even if you're black, I will not call you "master".

The appeal to training it is in its relative ease of access: there is no real bar for entry for anyone regardless of sex, age, or previous martial arts experience, and it is possible for a practitioner to train indefinitely and (mostly) without injury so long as you are doing so safely and intelligently (which I did not, hence my injuries). While competition is encouraged as a test of skill and willpower, it is not a requirement, and a practitioner can advance up the ranks if deemed appropriate by a "professor", as we call sometimes call black belt instructors in BJJ. That said, there is an obvious distinction between popularity as an activity and ubiquity and appeal as a spectator sport, hence this article.

Jiu-jitsu is cursed. No, as far as I know, there aren't any warlocks hidden deep in the forest conjuring hexes specifically to sabotage the community, but it suffers from the same inherently self-limiting handicap as its ancient, much more established, and slightly more naked and action-packed grappling counterpart, wrestling. For all the cartwheels, blast doubles, and the plethora of exciting techniques at a grappler's disposal, its appeal to an audience pales in comparison to striking arts, whose concussive forces produce emphatic impacts and easily discernible and *ahem* striking results. When a precisely placed punch slips through an opponent's guard and leaves them splayed lifelessly on the canvas, relieved of consciousness, there is very little doubt as to what happened and how: somebody just got knocked the fuck out.

The aftermath of Muhammad Ali vs. Sonny Liston II, as captured by Neil Leifer, a sport photojournalist, in 1965. It is likely the most famous shot in all of sporting.

Rulesets such as those of the Abu Dhabi Combat Club (ADCC) and UFC Fight Pass Invitational, itself a derivative of ADCC rules, encourage excitement by penalising grapplers for inaction, but, while these parameters effectively force activity, it must be noted that such constant movement is not necessarily endemic to and can even run contrary to the essence of jiu-jitsu, which emphasises control. Scrambles and chaos do indeed ensue when neither player has control over the other, but what happens when a person has passed their opponent's guard and is working toward a submission? I recall a particular scenario during the 99kg finals 2022 ADCC Worlds in Las Vegas.

With no lack of effort, Kaynan Duarte, the 2019 ADCC's +99kg champion, had just passed fan favourite and 2019 ADCC silver medallist Craig Jones' nearly impenetrable guard, securing the mounted position as the exhausted Mexican Ground Karate grandmaster attempted one of his infamous bottom-side Ezekiel chokes on the powerful Brazilian. The ten-thousand-strong crowd in attendance at the Thomas & Mack Arena erupted in what sounded like a peculiar mix of awe and disappointment. Craig spammed his usual array of unorthodox submission attempts from bottom as Kaynan sought to secure a finish of his own without undoing any of his previous endeavours.

Only one person I can think of will attempt to submit you while you have double unders in mount. Also, if you flip this image, Craig is mercilessly strangling Kaynan from inside his guard, and also in thin air. Photo by Clayton Jones Images (me).

Then something strange happened.

Unsurprisingly, there were warnings for inactivity, but as more time passed without a submission from Kaynan, the penalty points started racking up -- and very quickly. At one time, the negatives were so high that they were equal to the positive points Duarte accumulated from successful passes, which would mean that, had the match ended at that time, the score would have been tied, and it would go into overtime; had he not relented and maintained the position, Craig would have actually gone on to win the match by negatives. Kaynan did go on to score additional points to win and cement himself as the 2022 99kg ADCC champion, but it was nonetheless one of the most bizarre things I have ever witnessed in combat sports.

While absolutely no one wants to see two heavily perspiring people lying motionlessly atop each other for 15 entire minutes like the world's worst attempt at coitus, it is patently absurd that someone who is being controlled can become the victor in a contest primarily dictated by superior control -- that is, unless the dominant player is deliberately stalling and making zero attempts at finishing. The onus should ostensibly lie on the controlled player to facilitate their own escapes and counterattacks.

Furthermore, while strength and conditioning are quintessential elements of any combat athlete's regimen, gratuitous stalling calls put the "art" in "artificial"; they distill the essence of what makes jiu-jitsu formidable in self-defence by overly emphasising physicality and athleticism over technical prowess and forcing competitors to take unnecessary risks, often costing them matches (and however many pennies are being offered) in the process. Of course, competitors are free to go absolutely bananas at their own discretion (and spectators' delight), but that should not be mandatory.

Even after many years of training, I simply cannot fathom how Floyd can so deftly dodge a flurry of lightning-fast punches and fire off perfect counters all in one motion.

Let's take an example from boxing's Floyd Mayweather. Widely regarded as one of the greatest boxers of all time and known largely for his finely tuned defensive acumen, his style has been decried for being "boring" and too conservative. He was derided for "running" during fights due to what people perceived as fear or an attempt to avoid action, when, in actuality, neither were true: he had incredible ability to avoid punishment in the pocket and proved to be a very effective counter-puncher. More importantly, he embodied what it means to be a boxer: to hit and not be hit. He understood that being consistently clobbered in the noggin for brownie points is stupid, and developed a method which allowed him to remain both relatively unscathed and undefeated as a professional. And winners get paid.

You know who usually doesn't get paid? Losers, and especially jiu-jitsu people who lose. There are certainly outliers in that regard, to be sure, but ultimately, if you are not running a major YouTube platform and/or creating entertaining monetised content, doing seminars, selling loads of instructionals, heading an association or major gym, or competing and winning a lot (or a combination of some or all of these), you really aren't making much, which, when considering that top competitors are professional-level athletes who, more often than not, dedicate their livelihoods to jiu-jitsu, is rather pathetic.

One of the very few people who have managed to make it using only jiu-jitsu, which says a lot. Photo by CJI (me).

The sport is plagued by a glass ceiling and is largely a closed circuit in which, generally, the only people who generate income for jiu-jitsu people are other jiu-jitsu people or combat sports entities and enthusiasts. Almost no one, perhaps aside from ultra-hardcore BJJ enthusiasts, would care to purchase a pay-per-view of IBJJF Pans or Who's Number One like they would a UFC event, and the attendees of the most prestigious events, such as the ADCC World Championships, are almost entirely composed of jiu-jitsu people, many of whom possess only a rudimentary understanding of the rules of the contests they watch.

...and the rules are always changing. Is back control worth three points? Four points? Will I get an advantage for this near-takedown? Is this EBI overtime or sudden death? Nearly every organisation has its own individual ruleset, typically geared toward action, some sort of decisive conclusion, or an amalgam of the two. For example, some submission-only rulesets will call a draw if no finishes occur, and other sub-only entities such as the Eddie Bravo Invitational have three overtime shootout rounds in which competitors start in common finishing positions. The International Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Federation, or IBJJF, utilises a position-based point system, and the ADCC ruleset emphasises wrestling and rewards action by strongly penalising inactivity or deliberate stalling, and features overtime rounds in the event of an even score or no submission.

Emma Reusing executes a head-and-arm throw at the 2021 IBJJF Worlds. Photo by CJI (me).

While there are certainly merits to facets of these rules, such as the need to keep score and to encourage finishes, the fact remains that, for as much as grappling has grown, there is no real cohesion, regulation, or sanctioning entity in jiu-jitsu. The oft-criticised IBJJF long sat atop the heap as the governing body of all matters jiu-jitsu, but as the sport evolved and outgrew its competitive and regulatory confines, its influence has weakened, although it maintains an iron grip on yes-gi matters. While uncertainty regarding rules can be a recurring theme throughout sports, the lack of parity between the various jiu-jitsu rulesets in addition to the relative absence of a central administrative entity for athlete matters sows confusion amongst viewers and even causes doubts about its legitimacy as a sport to be taken seriously.

The Silver Lining

A select few individuals' attempts at pouring money into grappling may have bolstered the sport's profile, yet few entities have provided a decent payout for participants or winners, even if backed by nearly unlimited resources, and, in some cases, the vast majority of the resources spent have largely gone to every aspect of the grappling event except the athletes, which are the entire reason your event exists.

We don't have the broad appeal of team sports like basketball and soccer or the visceral impact of striking arts, and dorks who wear profanity-laden, dubiously labelled, or flamboyantly coloured clothing articles (or lack thereof) and hug each other aggressively for up to hours at a time in a niche sport that no one understands can hardly afford to take themselves seriously, so it stands to reason that someone has to get top-level competitors a decent chunk of change in lieu of spectatorship.

Some second thoughts, if you will.

Enter Craig Jones, the knight in silver armour, wielding duffle bags full of duckets and plans to upend the status quo via an eponymously named invitational, commonly referred to as CJI (like me, but with more value), and frequently mispronounced "CGI". The Craig Jones Invitational, which occurs concurrently with ADCC 2024, boasts a $3 million budget, most of which goes to athletes, and promises $1 million for winners of each division. Hosted in the Thomas & Mack Arena, CJI competitors will battle it out in a Karate Combat-inspired depression dubbed "The Alley", and will debut MMA-influenced rounds and an open scoring system. High-profile legends are also rumoured to be participating.

Marcelo Garcia explains a technique at the ADCC "Super Seminar" prior to the 2022 ADCC world championships. Photo by CJI (me).

And it's all streaming on YouTube.

Craig makes several valid points, namely, regarding venues and production. Ultimately, while marketing is certainly paramount in terms of fostering interest, if the sport as a whole is to grow, it must be organic in nature. Grandiloquent displays of pomp and circumstance alone don't bolster the profile of a sport -- people must also be curious about the sport itself. Being "the best" of a thing is useless if no one cares about the thing, and you cannot artificially fill shoes you are not currently capable of wearing.

However, an increased payout will inevitably attract more competition and competitors, which has a net benefit for the sport.

Except by some miracle, jiu-jitsu will indefinitely drift along down the river of obscurity, discovered and embraced by a select few, but never truly understood or even recognised by the general public, who still think judo people kick and that we do some form of weird extraterrestrial taekwondo. I would love nothing more than to be proven wrong regarding the future of this art we have come to hold dear, but at the very least, the professionals who have become the face of this game through years of steroids hard work and sacrifice should be able to afford to make a decent living from their passions.

|the kid|

[claudionogueira40-blog]

[theronindiaries]

[ultradude13]

An exhibition of styles: judo master Masahiko Kimura versus Brazilian Ju-Jitsu founder Helio Gracie (October 23,1951).

[plugonetwo]

Fight Untold Romulo Barral Episode Promo

[nezua]