Article - The Importance of Training Partners

Article #18, by guest writer Chrissy Linzy

Last month, I attended another amazing women’s grappling camp in Toronto, Ontario. This was my second week long camp, and it proved to me yet again the importance of seeking out different training partners. Even if you have three or four other people your size to train with on a regular basis, it’s really important to get out there and meet other grapplers to find the holes in your game before you find them at Mundials.

This doesn’t just apply to women, though. There are always outliers. Think about the people that train in your gym. Do you have a man training there that’s under 130 lbs? What about a man over 300 lbs? Are they always paired up with the closest person to their size, but still training with a size disparity? Sure, maybe the big guy is on the winning end in the gym but what do you think will happen the first time he has to compete against someone who is actually his size, or even bigger? He is probably going to find that his technique might not be as solid as he thought because he’s been relying on his size advantage for the last year.

Maybe you do have partners that are your size and skill. It’s the perfect scenario for great training, right? Maybe, but think about the last five or ten rounds with those partners. Did they all go about the same way? You pulled guard. Your partner passed your guard. You recomposed guard and tried to sweep with your favorite sweep (that your partner knows is your favorite sweep, so she defends it). If this (or some variation) is what every roll looks like, you just might benefit from finding some new training partners once in a while.

I know that I tend to fall back on what is comfortable, or on techniques that I have had success with in the past. For me, a great example of this is spider guard. That doesn’t work so well if I’m at a no gi class, or if I drop in to train at a school where everyone works low passes instead of standing to pass the guard. By forcing myself out of my comfort zone and training with a different style of jiu jitsu, I’m ultimately opening myself up to learn more and to improve. Sure, that learning curve is probably going to start with me playing a different guard that gets passed, but it’s all part of the journey.

The moral of the story is to seek out new and different training partners, especially ones that will push you to try new things or play a different game. As much as I love my teammates, I make it a point to train with other people at least once a month, just so that I can experience a different style of jiu jitsu, and to make sure I’m not developing any bad habits. I think women’s open mats are a great way to do this, especially if a week-long camp isn’t in your budget (or on your continent). Where I live, there are also open mats where men that are over 250 lbs (I think that’s their cutoff, anyway) get together to train. I know that sometimes it’s hard to get beyond the politics of an area to set these sorts of things up, but in the end, it will only make everyone better.

Chrissy Linzy has been training Brazilian Jiu Jitsu for 5 years, and is one of the owners of US Grappling, a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and submission grappling tournament circuit that travels across most of the United States for events. She (rarely) blogs at www.clinzy.com.

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Article - BJJ Belts: What's the Point?

Article #10, by Can Sönmez [FAQ Entry]

As far as I'm aware, the idea of using belts to reflect rank was first popularised by Jigoro Kano, who is easily among the most important figures in modern martial arts. According to JudoInfo, Kano's senior students began wearing black belts in 1886, signifying their higher status. It took until 1930 to bring in another colour, an alternating red-and-white belt. BJJ was once similarly sparse on rank, as Royce Gracie explained in a recent interview:

In my father's old days, in the beginning, the history of jiu jitsu let's say, there was a white belt, a blue belt, and a navy blue belt for the instructors. That was very hard to get, it wasn't just anybody could get it. There were no stripes, just plain blue belt. That's what my father used to use for the longest time, until about 1970s, when people create the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Federation. Under pressure, my father kinda give in, and told the people, "Go ahead, do the Federation." That's when they came up with all kinds of different belt colours, and they award him red belt, ten stripes.

The JudoInfo article goes on to state that in 1935, Mikonosuke Kawaishi introduced a more extensive system in Europe, ten years after Carlos Gracie opened his Rio academy. The reason is telling: "[Kawaishi] felt that western students would show greater progress if they had a visible system of many coloured belts recognizing achievement and providing regular incentives."

This continues to be a major factor in why people like to get new belts. It is human to crave praise, from your mother smiling at some abstract scribble you produced at the nursery, right through to your boss congratulating you on a job well done. In BJJ, belts are supposed to be a direct reflection of ability, meaning that in a legitimate school, promotion can be a cause for great pride. You've accomplished something, and are now being recognised.

The purpose of a belt is to mark your progress. That makes it easier for the instructor, if they're looking for an uke, or if they want to match people up during sparring. It also grants you greater access to competition: if you've spent the past year or two smashing your way through all the white belt tournaments, then you're going to get a lot more out of competing at a higher level against challenging opposition.

Yet many people feel undeserving upon promotion. What if you haven't been dominating at competition? What about that one girl in class who always manages to pass your guard? Or the big white belt who tapped you with an Americana yesterday: why isn't he getting promoted?

The only absolute is your instructor's faith in your ability. BJJ leaves you in no doubt about your failings, as the mat is a harsh critic. There are always areas to work on and people who can painfully expose those mistakes. In BJJ's highly subjective ranking system, it is essential you feel able to trust your instructor's opinion.

If the instructor is worthy of a student's trust, due to their honestly earned rank, then BJJ's meritocratic grading process falls into place. This is why it is so important to maintain the direct link between ability and status in BJJ belts: any frauds who seek to debase rank must be exposed. Many other martial arts have lost all credibility due to compliant belt examinations, where the candidate is never truly tested. If performance against full resistance is not a central part of promotion, the belt becomes meaningless.

At the same time, obsessing over a piece of cloth instead of concentrating on your actual ability is detrimental. After all, Hélio eventually gave up his impressive red belt with ten stripes, preferring instead to wear one of those old blue belts. He didn't need a belt to demonstrate his skills: he already had incontrovertible proof, in the ring and on the mat.

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Article - BJJ Teams: Loyalty and Reason

Article #9, by Can Sönmez

When the average person looks for a place to hit the treadmill, they probably choose somewhere nearby that's affordable. Should another gym open up, offering cheaper monthly fees to use their exercise equipment, that average person would most likely take their business there instead.

Rationally, you would expect the same to be true at a BJJ gym. You are a paying customer, and therefore you want the best possible return on your investment. Should you find someone willing to offer you a similar product for less money, then rationally, it would make sense to move.

However, signing up at a BJJ club isn't just an exchange of cash for goods. When you join a team, you're entering into a relationship that is more than financial. In the vast majority of schools, what it takes to earn a belt rank is the subjective opinion of an instructor. Therefore, as soon as your teacher awards you a belt, you become their representative. The instructor is putting their faith in your ability to uphold their reputation, to demonstrate that belts from their team are worth something. That means that along with your performance on the mat, you normally also need to prove a certain amount of dedication.

Loyalty isn’t only about the instructor, because that belt doesn't just represent what you have learned from your teacher. It pays tribute to all those hours spent with your team mates. Every roll, you've been tested, and if you're lucky enough to have good training partners, you've also benefitted from their advice. They've pushed you physically, challenged you mentally, broken you down and built you up technically. Every new belt is an individual accomplishment, but it is also a team effort.

Competition is another important factor in the unusually 'team' focused mentality of BJJ. Unlike judo, where you compete for your country, in BJJ you compete for your team. It is comparable to football: a player for Real Madrid would receive a very hostile reception should he ever transfer to Barcelona and later face his old club. Similarly, there is absolutely no way either Real or Barcelona would allow a player to train at both clubs simultaneously. He would be dubbed a traitor, or to use the BJJ term, 'creonte'.

Then again, that same footballer would be well paid for his services. In BJJ, the players are the ones who pay in order to be part of a team. This is why it can seem bizarre to outsiders: moving home is about the only situation I've heard of where switching teams isn't an issue (unless there happens to be an affiliate in that new city).

Arguably, that attitude hinders the growth of BJJ, isolating everyone in their particular schools, unable to benefit from a broad range of instruction. On top of that, obsessing over your 'team' can lead to the 'gentleman's agreement'. This happened recently when Sergio Moraes and Marcelo Garcia, both Alliance, did not contest their middleweight final at the 2009 Mundials. Instead, they had a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide the victor.

Personally, I didn't put much thought into why I decided to walk into the Roger Gracie Academy in 2006 rather than, say, Carlson Gracie London. Nevertheless, I now find myself looking for either RGA or Gracie Barra when I move house. Stepping through that door appears to have been a more momentous decision than I realised at the time.

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Article - BJJ Schools: Size Matters

Article #2, by Can Sönmez [FAQ Entry]

[This article is about the size of your school, rather than your training partner. If you're looking for advice on that, see here if you're small, or here if you're large]

Generically speaking, you can divide BJJ schools into two types, big and small. I began at the largest club in the UK, perhaps even the whole of Europe: the Roger Gracie Academy. There are several hundred students, with new white belts turning up every session, and a significant proportion disappearing soon after.

This is related to one of the disadvantages of a large school: with so many people, it can take a while to make social connections and feel a part of the team. However, in my experience this is not due to all the regulars forming a clique, but the rapid turnover of beginners. It's harder to invest time in somebody who you can't be certain will be there next week. Hence the tendency to wait until building relationships with newcomers.

In a large school, it's also difficult for the instructor to answer everybody's question. Even if there are several instructors present, there is only so much time to get round all the students. This conversely points to the major advantage of training at a big school: a broad range of experienced training partners of all shapes and sizes, who soon become integral to your development. That happens to an extent at every school, but especially if it has a lot of members.

In my case, I learned a great deal from Tran and Christina. Not only were they both much better than me, but also willing to answer all my never-ending questions on technique. As a result, much of what I try in sparring is directly influenced by them: what I refer to as the 'Tran side control escape' is something I use all the time.

At a small school, you don't get that same diversity of training partners, which is especially irksome if you're very small, rather large, or a woman. You have to make do with the same people most sessions, so you don't have the luxury of sticking to those around your size or skill level. The huge powerlifter known for neck cranks and injuring people, whose orbit you would have carefully avoided at a large school, suddenly becomes a regular opponent.

However, that also means there are less people competing for the instructor's opinion, meaning you can benefit from plenty of personal attention. Experienced training partners are a good thing, but easy access to an instructor is even better. I've really enjoyed taking full advantage of that where I am now, RGA High Wycombe.

Every lesson, I aim to put as many questions to Kev as possible (though naturally I don't want to get annoying, so I try to keep them sensible and concise). His brown belt knowledge has already been hugely helpful in the couple of months I've trained under him.

Having experienced both environments, I'm not certain I would pick one over the other given the choice. As with everything in life, there are both positive and negative elements to either option. However, I can say that I'm very happy where I am now: as long as there are people who can challenge you and help improve your game, you're at a good school, no matter the size.

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