Book Review - Becoming the Black Belt (Roy Dean)

Short Review: A BJJ biography in a comparable vein to John Will's Rogue Black Belt series, Roy Dean's second autobiographical book takes the reader from Dean's beginnings in BJJ, right through to building a successful school with black belt graduates of his own. As you would expect from Dean, it is eloquent, with a 'traditional' martial arts feel. He's a skilled writer with an interesting story to share, so this is an engaging read, particularly if you're an aspiring school owner. It's possibly a little pricey at £7/$10 for 154 pages, but still affordable.

Full Review:When it comes to biographical books about Brazilian jiu jitsu, there isn't a huge amount of choice, at least in English. There's the Carlos Gracie book by his daughter Reila, John Will's recollections in his Rogue Black Belt trilogy, Marshal Carper's adventures in Hawaii, Christian Graugart's academy-hopping trip around the world and most recently, Val Worthington's Training Wheels. If you broaden it out to MMA, many more choices become available (with articulate voices like Sam Sheridan), but for pure BJJ, it remains limited.

Roy Dean has already had one entry into this market, although in his first book he spoke more about aikido and his time as an uchideshi. In Becoming the Black Belt, the focus is squarely on BJJ. I can't think of another book that manages to trace a complete journey, from BJJ beginner through to senior belt, the struggles and triumphs of building up a successful school, then finally discovering that your passion lies elsewhere. The tone of the book reflects Dean's well-regarded DVDs, presenting BJJ from what you might call a traditional martial arts mindset.

That starts with Nic Gregoriades' discussion of bushido in his foreword, continuing through to Dean peppering his first chapter with terms like 'warrior' and 'rite of passage'. It isn't a perspective I share on BJJ or martial arts in general - unsurprising, given I have never been interested in developing a spiritual side - but it also isn't required to enjoy this book. What most caught my interest was Dean's depiction of the US BJJ scene in the early 2000s.

Brazilian jiu jitsu is a young art outside of Brazil, its expansion catalysed by the first UFC in 1993. Roy Dean was present a few years later, just as BJJ was consolidating its foothold in the United States. He made his way to what remains the epicentre of BJJ in the States, and by extension the key site for the sport outside of Brazil in general: San Diego. Training in California at that time meant he dropped in to the legendary Lions Den headed up by Ken Shamrock, before deciding on Roy Harris, a man well worth an autobiography himself (though his reputation has recently taken a hit, due to the understandable uncertainty over his controversial online ranking system).

Aside from history, there is considerable material that relates to everyday training, which reminds me a little of Mark Johnson's two books discussing BJJ. For example, a salient point about the enormous boost a good training partner can bring to your progress, which for Dean was integral to his development. That man is Brad Hirakawa, who gets a number of name checks (as for an entirely different reason do I, due to meeting Dean at his UK seminar a few years ago).

As Dean's book moves into the fourth chapter, he explores the competition mindset and the importance of aggression. I dislike aggression both on and off the mats and therefore have my own strong views on the topic, but Dean makes some good points about his need to develop that killer instinct to turn around his tournament performance. He's very good on describing competition fights, including a match with a certain Nick Diaz. If all of those are from memory it's hugely impressive, but I assume there was some video footage too (as Dean frequently mentions a sponsor with a camera).

There is the odd minor error, such as describing the Dirty Dozen as the first twelve Americans (John Will is Australian and part of that select group too), or a very occasional typo, but they're rare. Also, they might well be corrected in the final version of the book, rather than the review copy I read. Dean's instructor Roy Harris was in that Dirty Dozen group as well: he is a running theme throughout the book. Many people will have read the engaging account by Harris regarding his own progression to black belt, but there are still a few tidbits in Dean's book that add to the story.

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Given it is an autobiography, there are non-BJJ elements (yes, there is life outside BJJ ;D). For example, Dean talks at length about his studies into music and digital media. His mastery of the DVD medium makes more sense after reading that: I was aware he had some academic training in audio visual, but this gives you specifics (e.g., ProTools and the like). There are also a few nods to his love life, but they fortunately (from my perspective, I guess others might want to read romance) take up very little space in the book.

I was much more interested in his thoughts on setting up an academy. Alongside the questions about business and self-employment, Dean also adroitly deals with the political issues that invariably crop up when any group of humans grow over a certain number. He has never been one for gossip, so those hoping for juicy discussion of internal school troubles won't find it here: he keeps it professional.

His financial perspective on assistant instructors is interesting, and an issue where I'd have to disagree with his stance. They're helping your business, so at the very least should not be charged anything (though in fairness, it is a model Dean tried first before changing his view). The situations he found himself in as a school owner - and then goes on to describe and analyse - are not scenarios I can remember reading in any other BJJ book. I might be forgetting one of course, but either way, these situations aren't commonly discussed outside of forum hearsay.

The narrative arc of the biography is intriguing, the kind of story I enjoy reading in interviews. To be specific, the good interviews, as opposed to a young competition-focused athletic type telling you how much they train every day. I want to hear from somebody with real life experience that has something to share, experiences I can relate to and possibly learn from. That's what you'll find in these 151 pages. It's an engaging read, which I would especially recommend if you're a current or aspiring instructor/school owner.

Dean's book is available in ths US for $10, or in the UK for £7. That is perhaps a smidgeon too pricey for 154 pages, given that Val Worthington's comparable BJJ non-fiction release is a hundred pages longer for the same cost, but it's not an outrageous charge. I'm also not sure of word count, as I read Becoming the Black Belt as a PDF rather than a kindle book.

Book Review - The Combat Codes (Alexander Darwin)

Short Review: Alexander Darwin, who holds a brown belt in jiu jitsu, has created a world where MMA is the main tool for diplomacy. Competently written with an engaging plot, Darwin weaves BJJ together with cyberpunk. If you liked The Hunger Games and Harry Potter but thought they didn't have enough punching and grappling, then this may be the book for you.

Full Review: For as long as I can remember, I have loved fantasy and sci-fi. Like many English Lit graduates, I've also had a half-written book in a drawer (or rather, a succession of folders on several generations of PC) for ages. So when I was contacted via r/bjj by Alexander Darwin about his BJJ sci-fi novel, the prospect was intriguing. The first book I heard of which combined sci-fi and BJJ was something set in 'Jenarium' by a Gracie Academy affiliated author in Australia, advertised on the Gracie Academy website back in 2011. I don't know if much ever came of that: searching for it now, lots of stuff about a concept album comes up, but nothing much on a book (although the guy is still writing, apparently).

Given that BJJ is about rolling around in pyjamas, it isn't an immediately obvious fit with the world of spaceships and phasers. There was that episode where Kirk got his judo on, along with the weirdly tai-chi inspired dance Worf occasionally did in the holodeck (the writers dropped the ball on that one: I am convinced there is no chance Klingons would really do tai-chi, they'd be all about the muay thai and wrestling), but mostly if you're going to fight in sci-fi, you're going to do it with lasers. Or at least a lightsaber.

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You therefore need a conceit to make unarmed combat work. Darwin has come up with the idea of nations settling their disputes with MMA, reminding me simultaneously of my old favourite Battle Circle (at least until I re-read that as an adult and realised Piers Anthony had some weird ideas about children when he was writing that) and much more recently, The Hunger Games. There are also echoes of another long-standing favourite of mine, The Verdant Passage from the sadly neglected Dark Sun universe (which also produced two of my favourite old school RPGs).

Darwin is pretty good on fight scenes, aiming them squarely at aficionados, but sufficiently articulate that your aunt who keeps asking you "how's the karate going?" can get the gist too. For example, "Capitalizing on bottom position, [he] grabbed [his opponent's] elbow and dragged the limp arm across his body, using the leverage to pull himself up and around onto his opponent's back." It can be quite bloody sometimes (imagine a world where "knock out, submission or death!" wasn't just early UFC marketing hype), but no more than the young adult fiction that has conquered the cinema in recent years. There are lots of made-up words, which again is par for the course in sci-fi and fantasy. Darwin gets the balance right, fleshing out his invented universe without getting into Moorcock realms of laughably silly nomenclature ("the tower of B'aal'nezbett" still makes me laugh).

Yet I did find some of the terminology jarring. That's not because Darwin was looking through his prog rock thesaurus, but due to borrowing from the 'real world' of BJJ and judo. For example, mata leão, omoplata and kata guruma. Later on, there's a chapter introduction which features five judo throws in quick succession: like 'omoplata', 'sasae tsurikomi ashi' is a very specific term. The Combat Codes even features a whole arena of people shouting 'Osssuu!' Just when you thought you'd left those guys behind at the Carlson Gracie Academy... ;p

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You could argue that might fit if this was a 'future earth' scenario, as in many sci-fi books (I won't name them, just in case of spoilers). Or alternatively, if we're imagining that this is a translation from some indecipherable sci-fi language, with Darwin acting as the reader's babel fish. Other BJJ elements slotted in more comfortably for me, like the way Darwin includes rashguards and spats as a 'second skin'. Rashguards have always felt sci-fi anyway (the space faring crew of the USS Enterprise are all basically wearing them, after all), so I can accept the idea that futuristic athletes might use them as training gear. The gi is harder to swallow in that setting, but Darwin makes a good stab at backing up their existence.

Fellow BJJ and MMA fans will notice there are plenty of in-jokes to be found in The Combat Codes too. A certain Jos Danahar crops up as having a "master grasp of strategy", there's tough striker Mack Hunt, or you could head to Saulo's Circle. There's a line that could have come right off Ryan Hall's DVD on the triangle, giving some technical tips. Darwin even manages to discuss some hot topics in BJJ today within the context of his book, particularly the prevalence of performing enhancing drugs in our sport. Generally The Combat Codes wears its cyberpunk aspects lightly, but there's enough gadgetry and the like in there to keep us sci-fi fans happy.

In terms of female characters, I'm not sure if this book would pass the Bechdel test (though I didn't check for it), but there is at least one strong female protagonist who has a significant impact on the plot. There may also be more in future continuations of the story: The Combat Codes is book one of presumably an intended trilogy. I'll be interested to see where Darwin takes the story and if he's able to expand the scope. Writing something the length of a novel that can hold a reader's attention is hard enough, let alone basing it believably around BJJ: Darwin manages both. If you enjoy BJJ and dystopian sci-fi, then you're likely to enjoy this too.

Book Review - The Godfather of Grappling: Autobiography of Gene LeBell (Bob Calhoun, George Foon & Noelle Kim)

Short Review: If you're into combat sports of any sort and you haven't heard of Gene LeBell, then this book will give you an idea of why he is such a towering figure. LeBell has done it all, met everybody and even remains relevant in MMA today, as one of Ronda Rousey's coaches. This book is stuffed with engaging anecdotes from LeBell's ridiculously eventful life, ranging across boxing, judo, pro-wrestling, films, stunts...the list goes on. He's grappled 700lb black bears, been in films with Bruce Lee and Schwarzenegger, he trained Elvis and he's doubled for Rod Steiger. Even if you don't care about martial arts, something in this book is bound to grab your attention. Available here in the US (or here, in the UK, which is where I bought it from), or from LeBell's site.

Full Review: There aren't many people who could call their autobiography The Godfather of Grappling without hyperbole, but if anything, that title is perhaps underestimating the importance of Gene LeBell. He was born in 1932 and has been in and around combat sports ever since, as his mother was the promoter at the Olympic Auditorium, a famed boxing and wrestling venue in Los Angeles. He trained under catch-wrestling greats like Lou Thesz and Karl Gotch, started boxing at age 11 (when he got to spar a certain Sugar Ray Robinson) and went on to win major judo titles in 1954 and 1955.

LeBell also became a teacher of huge names himself. Chuck Norris, Bruce Lee and Hayward Nishioka were all LeBell's students. As if that wasn't enough, LeBell was the victor of what could arguably be called the first MMA fight in the United States when he faced boxer Milo Savage, after being personally asked to do so by Ed Parker. For good measure, LeBell refereed the infamous bout between Muhammad Ali and Antonio Inoki a decade later.

That's just the martial arts side of things. LeBell was also a popular pro-wrestler, rubbing shoulders with legends like Gorgeous George, 'Classy' Freddie Blassie and Andre the Giant. He has had yet another career as an actor and stunt man: the list of films in which Gene LeBell has been involved would take up a whole book. He's doubled everyone from Rod Steiger to Hulk Hogan. He's been a regular on television too, with repeated work on well-known shows like the original Adventures of Superman with George Reeves, The Fall Guy and The Dukes of Hazzard.

To top it all off, LeBell comes across as a great guy, humble even after all he's accomplished in his life. There isn't just one foreword of glowing praise: he has two, from 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper and Chuck Norris, followed by an introduction by one of the ghostwriters, a Brazilian jiu jitsu blue belt (at least at the time of writing) called Bob Calhoun.

Refreshingly, LeBell makes no pretence that this book is all his own work. He clearly states who his ghostwriters were on the front of the book and makes a point of thanking them by name at several points in the text. None of those introductions/forewords feel sycophantic: they read like the honest words of good friends, a valuable commodity in which LeBell seems to be very rich, judging by this book.

Although there are three ghostwriters and I've never met LeBell (something I'd love to rectify, as he is definitely somebody I'd be extremely keen to interview if I ever get the chance), it feels as though it is his voice throughout the book. Many celebrities biographies have that strained, awkward tone that reveals the obvious hand of a ghostwriter, but that's fortunately far from the case here.

The narrative of The Godfather of Grappling is not entirely linear. Rather, it is a collection of entertaining anecdotes from a man who has led a life sufficiently fascinating fill a book with them (and I have no doubt he's got enough left over for a whole series of books). There are a lot of pictures too, at least one (and often more than one) every few pages, along with colour plates at the back. You also get a partial filmography (which still fills four pages) and a comprehensive index.

To give you a flavour of those anecdotes, here's one of my favourites from p91. LeBell has just described how he headed up a team of American judoka on a tour of Japan, during which they were told they would be promoted if they completed a kata test:

So four of us went down to the Kodokan to learn these katas and be tested on them. Johnny Osako didn't have to go because he was 34 at the time and was considered beyond testing age. Learning all of these katas took some time (about eight hours) and only two of us stuck it out for the full time to learn all of these forms and we both had them nailed. When it was time to be tested, this elderly, Japanese teacher with a big head and even bigger cauliflower ears entered the room.

The Air Force guys all called him "Stink" Sato because he never washed his gi for some reason, but he was the kind of judo man that I had nothing but respect for. We both stood ready for our tests to begin and then the teacher said "Kata's bullshit." That nearly knocked me down as well as any judo throw could have. I didn't even know that he could speak English, but I sure understood what he meant by the word bullshit. "For show only," he continued after that shocking revelation and then he said "Now we fight for degree promotion."

I enjoyed reading about all the many phases of LeBell's life, but my particular interests are Brazilian jiu jitsu and the early history of MMA. LeBell touches on those two topics at numerous points in the book, with the main brief discussion of BJJ appearing on page 76. Interestingly, he keeps referring to MMA events as "get-tough" events, but it isn't pejorative: his respect for MMA - a sport of which he remains a part - is obvious.

The discussion of his treatment by the judo community is intriguing too. LeBell was a judo champion, but was ostracised in the '50s after he became a pro-wrestler. At that time, it was seen as shameful for a judoka to fight for money, the same prejudice that was probably encountered by earlier judo professionals like Mitsuyo Maeda and LeBell's contemporary, Masahiko Kimura.

A few of the anecdotes may be a bit violent for some readers, such as the one about a motorcycle stuntman sadistically blocking LeBell in such a way that it threw LeBell off his seat and his bike went into the air. That bike landed on top of him, breaking several ribs, then he and his bike tumbled down the hill with blood pouring from LeBell's mouth and nose. Practical jokes are one thing (there are whole chapters of them in The Godfather of Grappling, especially the 'swerves' of pro-wrestlers), but that stood out to me as a little more extreme. Having said that, there's a good reason why LeBell is often referred to as "The Toughest Man Alive".

[Note: The Toughest Man Alive also happens to be the title of another Gene LeBell biography, also ghostwritten by Bob Calhoun. However, according to Calhoun (as he relates here), this was illegally published without LeBell's permission. Neither Calhoun nor LeBell have seen a penny from that ill-fated first attempt. The Godfather Of Grappling was a revised draft published shortly afterwards, with LeBell's full involvement and approval.]

As the book was published in 2004, it doesn't discuss some of later developments that would be of interest to people who enjoy reading about BJJ and MMA. LeBell refers to Gokor Chivichyan as his 'top student' numerous times, who went on to found the Hayastan school with LeBell. There is a discussion of how that came about on p236, but 2004 was too early to go into detail on the MMA fighter who is now LeBell and Gokor's most famous student: Ronda Rousey.

Hopefully there will be an updated version of the book some day. For now, you can read LeBell's thoughts regarding Rousey on various sites around the net. He's also got more stories on his own website, GeneLeBell.com. To finish off, here's a stylish video commenting on Gene LeBell generally and his seminal proto-MMA fight with Milo Savage specifically:



There's also a decent interview (starts about 12 minutes in) with LeBell from something I would never recommend in general, the Joe Rogan Experience. That's because this poisonous podcast has gradually developed (especially since 2016) into a deeply cynical exercise in shilling for the stinking cesspits of the right wing. As much as Rogan is always claiming he 'talks to everyone', what he actually does is fawn over the Trump aligned right wing and crazy nutjob conspiracy theorists. As soon as somebody sensible from outside that circle makes the mistake of appearing on the show, Rogan switches modes into as much hostlity and derision as he can muster. Rogan's 'hearing' is extremely selective.

All that said, this episode from before the rot really set in does function as an interesting perspective on LeBell. It's even better if you've just finished reading The Godfather of Grappling, which is available here in the US (or here, in the UK, where I bought it from), or from LeBell's site.

Book Review - Watch My Back (Geoff Thompson)

Short Review: Graphically violent, with prose that sometimes stumbles, this autobiography is nevertheless an engaging read. Geoff Thompson is a noted figure in the world of self defence, meaning that anyone at all interested in his work will find Watch My Back a revealing insight. He viscerally describes the experiences that transformed him from somebody terrified of conflict into a successful bouncer, feared throughout his home town of Coventry. Available to buy here (or in the US, here).

Long Review: In the eight years I've been active on martial arts internet forums, I've said many times that I'm not interested in self defence (the only encounter I've had with RBSD was during Jamie Clubb's class, at the Cyberkwoon meetings). It isn't something I train for, firstly because I find it dull, and secondly because I'm dubious about the benefits. I'm small, weak and passive, so if some huge drunk with a broken bottle wanted to smash my head in for knocking over his pint, I doubt there is much I could do beyond running away.

Reading a book like Watch My Back only confirms that feeling. It is written by Geoff Thompson, a pioneer in the Reality Based Self Defence (RBSD) scene, particularly when it comes to the significant differences from a typical martial arts class. He has written many, many books on the topic, as well as branched off into self-help and even film scripts.

Personally I've never been keen on the self-help genre, but when it comes to self defence, Thompson is a legend in the UK, and globally respected as well. Though he has faced criticism for the direction he's taken in recent years, his contribution to the martial arts has been immense. In a comparable process to Matt Thornton's pivotal concept of 'aliveness', Thompson brought reality to self defence instruction.

Watch My Back was Thompson's first book, his autobiography, describing the circumstances that led to his later position as a world-renowned self defence expert. Although self defence isn't my area, I've been wanting to read this for a while. I finally got round to it due to the increased visibility of 'self defence' in BJJ, since Gracie Combatives hit the internet last year. I wanted to see what somebody acknowledged as an authority on self defence had to say, and how those views developed.

Thompson's autobiography frequently intersects with his other work in self-help, particularly overcoming fear. He even quotes a relevant chunk from Fear – The Friend of Exceptional People towards the end of the book. Presumably that can't have been the case with the original edition of Watch My Back: it has been updated numerous times since the 1990s (the copy I read is from 2000, with a new edition appearing last year).

Given that this book is largely about violence, Thompson's career as a self defence instructor also features heavily. That begins with the prologue, where Thompson summarises his perspective on the ideal approach to a real fight (pp6-7):

Not too detailed a plan, no complications, no equations, no grapple with morality or peer pressure, just bang him. That’s it. All this bollocks about karate or kung-fu, about this range or that range, bridging the gap, setting up, weakening them with a kick – there’s no need, just hit the fuckers . . . very hard!

It took some time for Thompson to reach that conclusion, and to inculcate his hardened attitude. Watch My Back discusses how he spent much of his childhood at the mercy of fear, made even worse when he suffered sexual abuse as an eleven year old. His greatest fear was physical confrontation, so he took up martial arts. It wasn't enough. Eventually, he says that he realised the only way to overcome that fear was to face it head-on. That's how Geoff Thompson found himself working as a bouncer.

Thompson had a black belt in karate, but that didn't mean much on the doors. Competitors in mixed martial arts gradually realised they had to become well-rounded to succeed in the Octagon or the ring, developing competence at striking, groundwork and takedowns. Thompson discovered this was also true on the street, but interestingly, he feels that the paramount skill is a fast, powerful, pre-emptive punch (pp254-255):

I love the Western boxing. This is surely the most effective system known to man, but again in kicking and grappling range it comes a very sorry second place. However, these boxers are so deft with their hands that it often does not get to the other two ranges. Most fights start at about 18 inches, then quickly degenerate into grappling if not maintained. So punching range is the natural range for a real fight. If it is the natural range I can see no reason to convince me that I should change it for another, especially when all the other ranges are weaker in this arena. Hands are king as far as I am concerned.

He is careful to note that you need the other ranges too – after all, he has a black belt in judo, and judging by pictures, he's had some contact with BJJ too – but for Thompson, a knock-out punch was his most valuable asset. That punch, normally indicated by a simple 'bang!', is put to use again and again over the course of Watch My Back. The vast majority of the book is a series of fights, where Thompson describes the drunks, thugs and criminals he had to deal with in his decade as a doorman. It is often extremely violent, especially when Thompson relates anecdotes of situations that didn't go so well, such as friends who were stabbed, glassed or even beaten to a pulp in their own homes.

Despite the frequently excessive violence (made all the more shocking by Thompson's constant use of the pre-emptive strike, which he believes is an essential part of self defence), Thompson manages to retain an air of authenticity, something few writers ever capture. While I doubt everything in the book is true, and any real events have probably been exaggerated and embellished, you still come away with the sense that Thompson is speaking from experience. Here's an example, from the end of the book (pp460-461):

‘So you’re not going to go then?’ I said, bringing my right hand back as though showing the door. The question engaged his brain and gave my shot a window, I’d only need the one.

Craig and Catalogue John were still outside waiting for me to arrive, unaware that I was inside. Wilmot-Brown was upstairs in the living quarters, looking out of the window for me. I’m here. I’m fucking here. He was probably cursing me for taking so long.

Bang!

I dropped a heavy right onto Ray’s fat jaw line. I hit him as hard and as fast as I could. The contact was sound. One of my better punches, if I do say so myself. I felt the heavy contact of knuckle on bone and knew I’d get a result. His eyes closed and his face shuddered. He was out before he fell. His body tumbled heavily towards the beer-splashed floor. His beer glass jumped from his hand and, almost in slow motion, spun in the air, spewing beer in all directions. My right foot met his head before it hit the floor, taking his front teeth out. I kicked him so hard that blood splattered all over my lovely Fila trainers and socks. His face bumped against the floor emitting a low hollow thud that made my stomach turn.

A collective ‘OOOO!’ came from the bar full of customers. As he lay motionless at my feet, beer and blood running in a river around his head and seeping into his silver tracksuit top like an explosion transfer, I brought the heel of my right foot heavily down on his face and let out a blood-curdling ‘KIAAA!’ I hated myself as I did it. But I had to, it was survival. If this bastard got up I could lose, and that frightened me.

There are various flaws with this book. The prose can be clichéd and clumsy. Sexism and homophobia creep in at several points. Attempts at humour occasionally fall flat, or worse, cast Thompson in a sinister light, taking pleasure in violence and personal abuse. He can sound arrogant, especially his proud boast that he has never lost a fight in over three hundred encounters. That's a figure which could happily sit alongside Rickson's infamous '400-0' claims, with about the same likelihood of accuracy.

However, to an extent all of that is understandable, because the book is written as if it was an informal chat with the reader, not a carefully edited piece of non-fiction. While Thompson tries to shift into a more professional register at certain points – and when he talks about his theories on self defence, he sounds authoritative – generally you feel as if you're sat in a pub listening to old war stories.

Whether or not these have grown in the telling, they're often engrossing, and importantly, Thompson goes on to reveal his fears at the consequences. Primarily that means legal repercussions, or even more dangerous, disgruntled opponents returning for another round, with friends and weapons, when your guard is down. In this section of the book, Thompson comes across as honest, stating that the fear was always there. He just learned how to harness it as an ally, instead of ranking fear among his enemies.

If you're looking for a polished piece of writing, this probably isn't something you'll enjoy. As he describes in the text, Thompson wrote the original edition of Watch My Back in a toilet, while working in a factory. His route to becoming an author certainly wasn't typical, and it has taken him some time to achieve competency: much of his first book reflects that. However, if you're interested in self defence, or Thompson's experience as a bouncer in 1980s Coventry, those flaws can be overcome. Available to buy here (or in the US, here).

Since Watch My Back and his days as a leader of the RBSD movement, Thompson has become a screen writer. For example, Clubbed grew out of Watch My Back, essentially a fictionalised version of the book brought to life. If you've read the book, I found it makes the film a lot more entertaining. You'll recognise some sequences that have been lifted directly from the text, but mostly they're modified, in order to fit in with Clubbed's narrative. Thompson even has a cameo, holding the pads for the protagonist and his training partners. Thompson's style is definitely better suited to film, so I'll be interested to see what he comes up with next.

Clubbed wasn't the first film to emerge from Watch My Back, as in 2002, Geoff Thompson wrote the short piece Bouncer. Impressively for a first-timer, he was able to get Ray Winstone to play the starring role. Perfect casting:

Book Review - Total MMA (Jonathan Snowden)

Short Review: If No Holds Barred was the story of MMA's birth, then Total MMA charts its growth to adolescence. Snowden brings Gentry's story up to 2008, in a book double the size of its predecessor. Total MMA spans the takeover by Zuffa, the rise and fall of PRIDE, and the entrance of MMA into the mainstream, thanks to The Ultimate Fighter and Elite XC. As with Gentry, there are plenty of anecdotes and first hand sources: if you liked No Holds Barred, then you're definitely going to like this. Available to buy here (or in the US, here).

Full Review: MMA is still a young sport, but given its recent rise to prominence and colourful beginnings, it makes for an interesting historical study. The first book to tackle that in any depth was Clyde Gentry's No Holds Barred, and for a long time that and The Gracie Way were the only real sources. A few years later, that market has expanded: the number of serious attempts at historical dissection remain limited, but they're beginning to appear more frequently. The most extensive is Total MMA, clocking in at four hundred and eight pages (at least in the large format paperback edition I own). Best of all, Snowden makes sure to footnote everything, a big point in his favour (part of the reason I started my long BJJ history post was frustration with a lack of clearly referenced sources).

Rorion's version of Gracie history initially wins out, such as the long-standing myth Snowden repeats on page 16, when he says Hélio's "brothers George and Carlos were excellent athletes and good-sized men." On the contrary, Carlos was around 135lbs: looking at pictures of them side-by-side, there appears to be little difference between the Gracie patriarchs. This is why the story that Hélio allegedly had to modify Carlos' techniques, due to his size, makes little sense (not to mention that Jigoro Kano wasn't exactly large himself).

Still, Snowden generally doesn't swallow the propaganda, as can be seen from his discussion of the Kimura fight, noting the shifting accounts by Gracie family members over the years. He also makes plenty of subjective judgments, to the detriment of the Gracie legend. This is one of the immediate differences from Gentry's earlier work: Snowden is not shy about sharing his personal opinion on figures within the history of MMA. His depiction of the Gracie family on page ten kicks off that trend:

The tape would be edited to make it appear Rickson dominated the fight: Duarte’s knees to Rickson’s body were removed, and the times he had the advantage on the ground. Then the tape was used to sell the Gracie brand of “self-defense.” Welcome to the world of the Gracie family and Gracie jiu-jitsu, where unprovoked thuggery is commendable and promoting the family name paramount.

That continues later, on page 142, where Snowden claims that Ryan Gracie's trouble with the law was perfectly in keeping with family tradition (for the full story, and various other unpleasant sides to Hélio's character, check out the startling Playboy interview with Hélio, which Snowden references):

The Gracies had a history of lawlessness, starting with Hélio Gracie himself. Hélio considered himself above the law, and with good reason. When he almost killed luta livre champion Manoel Rufini dos Santos in a street brawl, he was sentenced to two and a half years in prison. But he was a Gracie.

Like Gentry, Snowden also delves into the 'inside story' of MMA, thanks to interviews with first hand sources. For example, on page 69, Mikey Burnett describes what it was like going drinking with fellow members of the Lion's Den after several months of hard training:

“We went to a bar in some fucking Podunk town and Ken made me strip on stage. The bouncers were going, ‘Get down.’ And I wasn’t getting down. Everybody else was sitting there making me dance. I don’t know what the guy who owned the bar was thinking. It was all of us, Maurice Smith, and I think Mark Coleman was with us. I went behind the bar and grabbed a fucking bottle of Jack Daniels, a big chocolate birthday cake they had back there for some reason and just helped myself. We were retarded. One of Ken’s brothers got arrested and I was supposed to be watching him. Then Frank beat up one of Tank [Abbott]’s guys. He threw a pickle or something at Frank when we were coming out of the hotel and getting into a cab, and Frank beat the fuck out of him. Later that night we were on the top of the hotel throwing full beer bottles out of the window. Out of our fucking minds.”

This is part of Snowden's focus on specific fighters and camps, in contrast to Gentry's event-based approach. For example, Snowden has chapters on the Lion's Den, Frank Shamrock's 'Alliance' (with Maurice Smith and Tsuyoshi Kohsaka) and Miletich Fighting Systems, led by 'Croatian Sensation' Pat Miletich. He also concentrates on individuals within more broadly based chapters, like Snowden's discussion of Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira and Fedor Emelianenko in 'The Growth of Pride' section.

Taking personalities as his anchor is a good strategy, and makes the narrative even more compelling. Japan's integral importance to MMA is also investigated in greater depth, with a whole chapter on Pancrase, several on PRIDE, and even one on the bizarre (but impressively lucrative) Bob Sapp phenomenon.

The biggest difference, however, is a simple matter of publication date. Gentry is relatively thorough up until UFC Japan, after which he starts to summarise heavily, finishing up his story with the announcement of a new TV series, The Ultimate Fighter. By contrast, when Snowden begins his exploration of TUF, it is around half-way through the book. As Snowden explains, before TUF, the UFC was struggling, but after TUF, it began its emergence into the mainstream. He spends several chapters dissecting its impact.

Interviews with the participants demonstrate that despite the success it would later bring to the UFC, actually being on the show was often very unpleasant. Snowden quotes original TUF alumni Bobby Southworth, who told him on page 217:

"They put us in a house with a septic system designed for four people. There were 16 people living in the house. So two times raw sewage flooded both of the downstairs bathrooms and was left there for up to three days,” Southworth said. “Several of the fighters got pretty sick. Stephan Bonnar had some kind of mutated impetigo, and Sam Hoger got a flesh-eating virus. I got some kind of weird respiratory infection that caused me to cough up blood.”

That success led Zuffa to the kind of positive media coverage unthinkable during the reign of Meyrowitz and SEG. However, it also led to the unfortunate development of what has since become known as 'the Zuffa Myth'. Snowden gives this bit of historical revisionism its own section, starting on page 266:

The official story goes like this: Zuffa bought the UFC from SEG in 2001 and had a lot of work to do. SEG had run from sanctioning and didn’t want to work with state regulators. Zuffa took the opposite approach and brought in many innovations. They added rules, created weight classes, added rounds, and allowed the referee to stop the fights. These innovative changes allowed the company to finally get sanctioned and get the sport back on pay-per-view.

This tale was repeated in a newspaper or magazine article practically every week in late 2006 and through 2007. The UFC was hot, and this was its spin. The problem? This tall tale is almost entirely untrue. The UFC had always had rules. The referee was able to stop the fight from UFC 3 onwards. The first weight classes were created at UFC 12. UFC 15 saw SEG ban head butts, kicks to a downed opponent, and strikes to the back of the head. Five-minute rounds, actually in effect at UFC 1 but never enforced because no fight lasted five minutes, were implemented again at UFC 21. By the time the UFC had its first show in New Jersey in November 2000, almost every one of the UFC’s current rules was already in place. The sport Zuffa promotes is pretty much exactly the same sport SEG had been promoting for years. But that just makes the UFC story too complicated for a mainstream reporter looking for a quick and easy story about the next big thing.

The UFC was synonymous with MMA, thanks to TUF. The media didn't know any better, and Dana White certainly had no intention of letting them think otherwise. Nevertheless, at the time Snowden was writing, it seemed as if there were potential challengers to that monopoly. He begins by discussing Elite XC, and the man who was responsible for both its rise and fall, Kimbo Slice. The IFL is also explored, along with Affliction and HDNet. Unfortunately for Snowden, Total MMA was published before the collapse of almost all of them, though he could at least make predictions.

In many ways, Total MMA acts as a sequel to Gentry's No Holds Barred, if a little more subjective and a good bit longer. More stories, more fights, but most importantly, more personalities. There is still much to be said about MMA's history, such as the fascinating story of women's MMA, but for now, Total MMA should quell your appetite. Available to buy here (or in the US, here).

Book Review - No Holds Barred (Clyde Gentry)

Short Review: Gentry was the first author to make a concerted effort to research and document the early years of mixed martial arts. After some rather less assured forays into the misty depths of jujitsu's origins, Gentry does a fine job of detailing the struggles of MMA's difficult birth.

More entertainingly, he provides a platform for the personalities of the time to reminisce, presenting their own versions of what happened. Rorion Gracie, Art Davie, Tank Abbott, Relson Gracie and Don Frye all weigh in, amongst many others. To a large degree, No Holds Barred is the story of MMA's painful beginning, in the words of those who were not only there, but intimately involved. For fans of MMA, this is essential reading. Available to buy here (or here, in the US).

Full Review: If I recall correctly, I first heard about MMA in 2002, back when I initially began checking internet message boards. As someone who has been in university for the past decade, I tend to start researching anything that interests me, and MMA was no exception: I searched around the net for sources, along with newspaper databases. There had also been talk of a book called No Holds Barred, but for some reason, I must have been unable to get hold of it until the UK paperback edition came out in 2005.

Gentry's work proved to be an engaging read, with the various victories and defeats forming a narrative: I didn't want to spoil the story by knowing the results in advance. It therefore took me years to read the book cover-to-cover. I got into a cycle of asking for a UFC DVD for my birthday and Christmas, reading up to that event in No Holds Barred, then putting it back on the shelf until I picked up my next DVD.

That process finally finished in May 2008, after I'd collected all the MMA DVDs I wanted. I'd expanded my interests to include Pride and Extreme Fighting by that point, along with the seminal 2002 Hook n Shoot: Revolution event, featuring the first all-female card in the US. I lost interest in the UFC after the tournament format went out the window, and the commentary team shifted towards sensationalism rather than calm analysis (i.e., once Jeff Blatnick left).

The early UFC was full of entertaining characters: Ken Shamrock, Don Frye, Tank Abbott and many others. It was also fascinating from a technical perspective. Fighters had not yet realised that they needed to gain competency in all the ranges of combat, then somehow combine that knowledge into an effective strategy. Watching the first few years of MMA, you can watch that evolution gradually take place, until truly 'mixed' martial artists came on the scene (arguably the first was Frank Shamrock, building on the foundations laid by men like Don Frye, Marco Ruas and Maurice Smith).

This is exactly the period Clyde Gentry explores. I've re-read Gentry's book plenty of times (I'd check back over all the chapters up until my latest UFC DVD), and it's also been one of the main sources for an extensive history post I wrote on Brazilian jiu-jitsu, along with my UFC summaries.

After an interesting opening discussion on the development of kickboxing, Gentry confused me by referring to a part of Chinese history as the 'Choon Chu Era' (772-481 BC) on page 24. If you type that into Google, you'll get a whole load of TMA club pages attempting to describe the origins of jujitsu, so that is perhaps where he got it from. I'm no expert on Chinese history, but checking my little History of China (which served me very well on my trip out there back in 2004), it makes no mention of 'Choon Chu'.

There is a label that closely matches Gentry's range: the much more familiar Spring and Autumn Period (771-481 BC). Chu appears as a state active within that time, but I'm not sure where the 'Choon' might come from. However, like I said, I'm not a professional historian, so perhaps 'Choon Chu' is a well known label I'm just not familiar with.

Gentry then repeats the myth about Alexander the Great bringing pankration to India, after which it was supposedly brought by Da Mo (a figure also referred to as Bodhidharma, to whom much is attributed, but little factually verified) to China. Again, this is something you'll commonly see in histories of jujitsu written up on the internet, as opposed to serious academic studies. It is difficult to pinpoint the exact origins of many martial arts, due to the obfuscation frequently caused by a desire to be seen as 'ancient' and 'mystical'. Gentry's statement here could therefore have benefitted from a healthy dose of scepticism.

Anyway, that is a minor point (I'm talking about a single page). The meat of the book begins shortly afterwards, delving into the early vale tudo challenge matches, Rorion's move to the US and the ensuing genesis of the UFC. This is much easier to document (though certain points remain contentious), as you can read contemporary newspaper reports, watch video footage, and interview people from the time. The biggest attraction of No Holds Barred is that Gentry interviewed a significant chunk of the individuals he discusses, along with their peers.

That results in plenty of marvellous anecdotes, including a man who has an unlimited supply: Relson Gracie. His recollections of life as a young Gracie in Brazil appear on pages thirty to thirty-one:

"The equivalent to the SWAT team came to my dad's school and the whole team was there," said Relson. "They got fifteen of us to walk with them through the beach. When the cops walk through the beach, the bad guys would hide drugs and weapons in the sand. When we walk through the beach, we were like normal people with shorts; this was to surprise the guys."

Relson walked in front, Royler 30 feet behind and they had plenty of reinforcements. "I approached a group of the troublemakers and talked to them about coming along quietly to talk with the police," said Relson. "They didn't want to go. One guy stood up and pushed me and then punched me so I choked him out. The other guy tried to kick me so I took him down and choked him too. The third one ran into the water and then I jumped on his back and choked him too in the water. The fourth one also got into the water and started to swim away. I swam behind him and choked him out."

This look behind the scenes is the greatest strength of Gentry's book, and it fits with his stated aim in the introduction. Having previously written a book on Jackie Chan, Gentry was frustrated with an inability to "get inside the man," as he puts it. For No Holds Barred, Gentry writes, "I was determined that if I was to tell the story of this renegade sport, it would be the inside story, the straight dope."

Relson's story is just one of many. Gentry accomplishes his goal by drawing upon an impressive number of interviews with first-hand sources. The reader is left with a sense that this is indeed the 'straight dope'. Memories like the following, from pp54-55, make it seem as if Gentry was somehow present backstage at the time:

As Jimmerson entered the changing area, Kevin Rosier was popping his jaw back into place. It was clearly broken. Zane Frazier was on a stretcher heading for a nearby hospital; unbeknown to everyone, he had suffered a severe asthma attack during his fight and couldn't breathe unaided after returning to the dressing room. What Jimmerson saw next was truly hard to believe. Doctors were trying to remove two of Tuli's teeth that were embedded in Gerard Gordeau's foot. They decided it would be better to leave the teeth in for the rest of the night for fear of exposing the wound anymore. On top of that, Gordeau's hand was broken in several places. Yet the savate champion, cigarette dangling from his mouth, showed no signs of quitting and had blocked the pain out of his mind

Seeing all four men injured to various degrees was more than Jimmerson could handle. "Finally my managers came over to me and said, 'This is what we're going to do: go in there, and at the first sign of trouble, we're throwing in the towel,'" he later recalled. After all, Jimmerson's payday was locked in no matter what, so why should he risk injury?

Gentry discusses the claims that certain fights in the UFC were fixed (most notably Oleg Taktarov against stablemate Anthony Macias and Don Frye versus Mark Hall), asking the people involved. He explores the circumstances of the proposed challenge match between Rorion Gracie and Benny 'the Jet' Urquidez, as well as the heated exchanges between Rickson and his relatives, due to their decision to pick Royce ahead of the acknowledged family champion.

Gentry also looks beyond the UFC. Despite what Dana White would like you to believe, MMA has never been limited to one promotion. Up until recently (and some might argue this is still the case, with the absence of top flight competitors like Fedor), the best fights were to be found outside the Octagon, first in Extreme Fighting, then in Japan's PRIDE. Gentry provides enlightening details about both the Battlecade promotion and the beginnings of Japanese MMA, which predate the UFC by a few months (thanks to the inaugural Pancrase event on 21st September 1993). In addition to the fascinating story of the similarly named IFC, Gentry also discusses some of the lesser known promotions, like the ill-fated MARS (short-lived, but memorable for Renzo Gracie's supine KO of Oleg Taktarov) and WCC.

UFC events are covered in detailed up until around Ultimate Japan, taking two hundred pages to reach 1998. After that, Gentry summarises more frequently, which is unsurprising given that I'm reading several editions down the line. The entrance of Zuffa also marks the point where No Holds Barred veers away from 'the straight dope.' There are many criticisms that could be laid at Zuffa's door, which Gentry avoids making. The following quote from page 208 is especially amusing, given Zuffa's reputation:

Unlike SEG, Zuffa's UFC seemed open to working with other promotions and exchanging ideas. "The problem has been that everyone has traditionally played in their own sandbox," said Fertitta. "That's like saying, 'I'm the UFC and I'm not going to recognize anyone else.' It's important for all the promoters to communicate so that we can all move in the same direction rather than fight each other."

On the other hand, at the time Gentry was writing, Zuffa was still an unknown quantity. Dana White had not yet become a familiar caricature, repeatedly throwing f-bombs at all his competitors. Gentry didn't have much to work with after the first edition of No Holds Barred in 2002, so it is perhaps unsurprising that the discussion of Zuffa remains a brief, almost entirely positive summary.

The sport has grown a great deal since Gentry wrote his book, even taking into account that the version I own is an updated paperback edition from 2005. The most significant event was The Ultimate Fighter, which pushed MMA into the mainstream, followed by disastrous later efforts, like the Kimbo Slice debacle on Elite XC. Due to that much greater visibility, Gentry's pioneering efforts have now been taken up by other authors, like Jonathan Snowden.

Nevertheless, if you want a thorough, entertaining account of the early years of MMA – which in my view remain by far the most interesting – No Holds Barred is the gold standard. Available to buy here (or here, in the US).

Book Review - The Last Wrestlers (Marcus Trower)

The premise of this book is that Marcus Trower, a journalist, wants to explore “real” wrestling, as opposed to the “fake” pro-wrestling exemplified by Hulk Hogan and the like. Trower searches initially for a spiritual dimension in the sport, then later seeks evidence for his “human rutting” theory. In order to do so, he travels to several countries which have – or at least, used to have – a strong wrestling culture. India, Mongolia, Nigeria and Brazil are all covered, with the last of those four naturally being the one which led me to pick up Trower’s book.

I first heard of The Last Wrestlers on Bullshido, but it didn’t really catch my interest until I read this post. That strongly indicated that there was something relevant to UK BJJ history, which meant I definitely wanted to take a look.

Brazil takes up the last chunk of the book, as the author relates his experiences at Gracie Barra, Brazilian Top Team, Marco Ruas Vale Tudo and Tata Jiu Jitsu. He also gets the opportunity to interview a number of familiar names, like Ze Mario Sperry, with extended pieces on Allan Goes as well. That leads him into a discussion of how BJJ can be a force for positive change in the favelas (Tata established a school in Rocinha partly for that reason). Goes himself emerged from poverty through his success in BJJ and later MMA. Clearly this was a powerfully affecting experience for Trower, as according to this press release (link currently broken, unfortunately), he plans (or perhaps already has?) to set up a wrestling school in one of the favelas himself.

Trower provides a revealing insight into the aspirations and motivations of these fighters, as well as some thoughts on what it is like to train in Brazil and the politics of BJJ. That political dimension is especially strong in the next section, which features a feud between two UK-based BJJ instructors from several years ago. Importantly, Trower maintains his objectivity throughout, always talking to both sides of any dispute.

The immediate comparison that sprung to mind was the excellent BBC Three series, Last Man Standing. While Trower doesn’t engage physically to the same degree (he has various health issues which make that impossible: indeed, Trower's frustration with those problems provides much of the impetus for his journey), the locations are either similar or the same (both Mongolian and Indian wrestling have featured on the BBC program). Like Last Man Standing, it is not only the exploration of the sport which is interesting, but the experience of living in a new country. Trower observes locals dodging through lethal Nigerian traffic, gets his underwear stolen while bathing in the Ganges and watches children grapple horses in Mongolia. You feel part of his journey, and come to admire Trower’s single-minded devotion to his cause despite frequent setbacks.

I disliked the pungent stink of testosterone in various chapters, largely caused by Trower’s desire to prove his “human rutting” theory, in which he claims wrestling may have developed as a means of sexual selection. This is the climax of the heavy male bias throughout the book: women never feature as fellow athletes, but rather as trophies to be won. I’m very keen for more women to take up BJJ and combative sports in general, as there is currently a depressing imbalance. I would have liked to have seen at least some acknowledgement that men are not the only ones who can benefit from grappling’s mental and physical challenge.

Trower’s book appears to view wrestling and combative sports as a purely male preserve, a method of proving ‘manliness’. Trower enjoys throwing out terms like “masculine fundamentalism,” with extended discussions of how he feels men have been emasculated by office jobs and the decline of ritualised combat.

[Update, Oct 2009: Trower (at least I assume its him) has responded to that criticism here.]

That’s a personal niggle with the book, however: Trower certainly doesn’t hide his intentions, the subtitle of his book being ‘A Far-flung Journey in Search of a Manly Art’, so it would be unfair to criticise him too heavily in that regard. Also, as in Last Man Standing, the tribal environment often enforces strict gender roles. I’m still holding out hope for a Last Woman Standing, but unfortunately those societies tend to lack progressive views on women’s rights (though that’s a broad generalisation: I’m certainly no anthropologist).

[Update, Feb 2010: My wish has been granted! Last Woman Standing started last night on BBC 3. See it on iPlayer here, or the official site here.]

The Last Wrestlers is an engaging travelogue, well-written and full of entertaining characters stuffed with colourful anecdotes. Trower is a thoughtful companion through the world of grappling, tenaciously tracking down his subject in distant corners of the globe. If you enjoyed Last Man Standing, or want to learn more about indigenous wrestling, you won’t be disappointed. Available to buy here (US version here).

Book Review - The Gracie Way (Kid Peligro)

There isn't much available in the bookshop on Brazilian jiu jitsu history, though the ability to read Portuguese will widen your options. For those of us who don't have that language at our disposal, Kid Peligro's The Gracie Way is the main text available that explores the background of BJJ, in particular the central figures of the Gracie family (hence why its a major source for my long BJJ history post). Though there are a few other lineages of BJJ – Oswaldo Fadda is one notable example – it is the Gracies who are undeniably the best known, most successful and most important. The Gracie Way covers the biography of several of its members.

The strength of the book is the glorious photography showcased throughout The Gracie Way. There are scenes from the archive of the original academy in Rio, pictures of the Gracies in competition and old newspaper clippings from the early years. This is accompanied by lots of historical detail and first hand sources, Kid Peligro getting quotes from his contacts in the sport, most notably the Gracies themselves. The history of BJJ is traced by speaking to some of its major contributors, like Helio and Rorion, with their memories of BJJ's growth: for Helio, its the origins of the sport in Brazil, while Rorion discusses the move to the US and the early days of the UFC.

This is where the controversial side of the book begins. The Gracie Way's biggest flaw is the heavy bias: you won't find objective criticism of the Gracie family here, as Kid Peligro is a close friend, and clearly has great respect for the many accomplishments of the Gracie brothers and their descendents. There is no mention, for example, of Rorion's litigation against his relatives, the focus remaining firmly on the Gracie's positive achievements.

Peligro's writing on Renzo, Royler and Royce is especially interesting if you enjoy MMA, as you get a different perspective on the first few UFCs in the 1990s and those famous Pride fights around the turn of the millennium. Carlos Gracie Jr also crops up, which means Peligro can talk about Gracie Barra, the Mundials and the CBJJ (Confederação Brasileira de Jiu-Jitsu)/IBJJF (International Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Federation), a governing body set up by Carlinhos (a name by which Carlos Gracie Jr is often known).

Any author seeking to cover such a huge group of people – Helio and his brothers had many children – has to make choices about who to include, but that inevitably leads to questions about those the author chooses not to cover. For example, Relson, Ralph and Carley do not receive their own sections. Yet that can be forgiven, as there are always space limitations in these kind of projects. I hope that some day there may be further volumes of the biography, which could also cover more recent figures, such as Rener and Roger.

Kid Peligro detailed some of the difficulties in compiling such a book during his first Fightworks Podcast interview:

The Gracie family has been around forever, and they have so many fighters and so many different stories it was really hard to narrow down, to do research, and to finally decide who to write about...I tried to narrow down to the top ten, in my mind, that were the most important in the development of jiu-jitsu through the history.

I mean, there's other people that are well deserving to be there, but it was very emotional to try to do a book about people I admire a lot, some of them were my friends, some of them were not alive.

If you want to learn more about BJJ history, then you'll enjoy The Gracie Way, although admittedly you don't have many books to choose from. Kid Peligro presents a loving look at the Gracie family, letting them tell much of their own story, resulting in a wealth of anecdotes that gives the reader a window on this most famous of fighting dynasties. Available to buy here (for the US, click here or here).

Book Review - The Pyjama Game (Mark Law)

I saw The Pyjama Game recommended over on the European Fight Network by J-Sho, which caught my interest as that thread mentioned the book discussed early judo history. As I've noted a couple of times in my blog, I've been compiling a long history post (currently just UFCs), so any further sources are always welcome. Glancing over the content page on the book's website, I was sold: this looked perfect.

Mark Law, the book's author, is an experienced journalist who has worked for The Times and The Daily Telegraph. To those who have read E.J. Harrison's classic The Fighting Spirit of Japan, Law's book feels very much like a modern equivalent (and indeed quotes from Harrison's work). The Pyjama Game has that same middle-class, journalistic perspective, featuring an appealing mix of professional polish with personal enthusiasm for the topic, along with a willingness to delve deeply into the historical and cultural background.

Law states that he began studying judo at the age of fifty, whereupon the book draws some parallels to the obvious comparison, Robert Twigger's Angry White Pyjamas. Not only are the titles similar (Twigger also provides the positive review quoted on the cover), but both open with that same carefully humble apology for athletic ineptitude, making it clear to the reader that the author had never previously taken any interest in sports. Martial arts were something new, something strange, something frighteningly physical.

At least initially. As the author proceeds along his remembered journey, the perspective quickly changes from a bewildered outsider to an eager participant. Law goes through the typical experiences on the judo mat: the sounds, the people, the grading, the tournament, randori. This is engaging, immersive and quite informative to a non-judoka like myself. Yet as interesting as these details are, the main reason I bought this book was for the historical summaries. Judo's beginnings are traced, from the battlefields of feudal Japan through to the study of Dr Jigoro Kano, outlining his vast contribution to combat sports and martial arts in general, then moving on to the adventures of Yukio Tani and the foundation of the Budokwai.

There is also more recent history, with a focus on various judoka related to pivotal events in the development of the sport, or sometimes more specifically to judo in the United Kingdom. These add a rich texture to the book: Percy Sukine teaching judo from his makeshift dojo in a German PoW camp; Dickie Bowen puffing nervously on a cigarette at the first world championships; Masahiko Kimura getting out of bed to perform a series of push-ups shortly after major surgery.

In addition, Law runs the reader through some of the famous champions of the sport, like Yasuhiro Yamashita and Ryoko Tamura-Tani. Alongside them are the big names in British judo, like Neil Adams, Karen Briggs and Brian Jacks. The discussion of women's judo was the most interesting of these chapters, during which Law contrasts two very successful coaches of female judoka: Britain's Roy Inman and the enormous figure of Cuba's Ronaldo Veitia Valdevie.

Amusingly, Helio Gracie is first referred to as "a Brazilian judoka", which may or may not have been tongue-in-cheek. Either way, it raised a smile, given the associations that immediately produces for anyone who has ever perused JudoForum or similar sites (which I'd assume includes Law himself, as he references JudoInfo.com), where the tired 'Judo vs BJJ' debate has been dragged out ad nauseam. In the chapter entitled 'When Judo Steps Into The Cage', which I was especially looking forward to (my instructor, Roger Gracie, enters the picture at this point), Law goes further, holding up Royce Gracie's success in the Ultimate Fighting Championship as a victory for judo:

The strikers – boxers and karate men – were shown to be extremely vulnerable to the grapplers, and judo proved itself in two ways. The winner of the first Ultimate Fighting Championship in 1993, and on two subsequent occasions, was Royce Gracie – the man whom Hidehiko Yoshida, the judoka, was later to beat in their first encounter and hold to a draw in their second. Moreover, the origins of Gracie's jujitsu technique lay in the judo which Maeda had brought to Brazil in the 1920s. Gracie thus owed his victories substantially to early Kodokan judo; in essence Gracie jujitsu was judo. These events confirmed judoka in their belief that their discipline was constructed around immutable principles that could handle a whole spectrum of threats. Even here, in prize-money fuelled contests against the world's hardest men, exponents of 'the gentle way' could more than hold their own. (p226-227)

BJJ is undeniably an outgrowth of judo, but I find it a bit of a stretch to actually claim Gracie's wins as proof of judo's viability in the cage. Law rather has his cake and eats it here, as not only does he point out Royce's loss to Yoshida as an example of judo succeeding in mixed martial arts, but Royce's wins somehow also signify the triumph of judo. This is especially jarring as a judoka was in fact present in the early UFCs: Christophe Leninger, an accomplished judo competitor, lost to Ken Shamrock in UFC III and Guy Mezger in UFC XIII (though he did rack up some wins in other promotions, eventually achieving a 3-4 record).

That's a minor point, however, as the link between judo and BJJ is very strong, even if it is a bit excessive to imply they are interchangeable. Law's book is a consistently entertaining read, buoyed by his journalistic experience (including footnotes and sources, something all too often missing from martial arts books), which I can happily recommend to any martial artists, particularly those of us in the grappling styles. If Angry White Pyjamas is a disgruntled teen having an entertaining bitch about a disciplinarian teacher, then The Pyjama Game is a jovial, slightly bookish grandfather, pulling out anecdotes from a long and eventful life. Available to buy here (for the US, click here).