Page 52 of Punchline
Getting into a higher weight class with my experience level wasn’t difficult. It meant waiting a little longer to get rolling, but I spent my time watching the last of the youth matches with Carson and cheering on our kids. They did well overall, a couple of them finishing first for their divisions and full-on half of them finishing on the podium, including the littlest ones, which…
I’m sorry, but if you’d never seen five-and-six-year-olds doing jiu jitsu, you were missing out. Their matches were very closely monitored to make sure everyone stayed safe, but they were some of the kindest grapplers out there, and there was something incredibly cute about watching two people who didn’t even stand as high as my hip trying to take each other down. The intense adorableness helped distract me from the fact that I was about to step onto the mat with the end goal of making someone else submit to me as fast as possible.
It wasn’t like teaching, where I could tap someone out in the process of helping them learn. These guys might learn something, or hell, they might teach me something, but the purpose was domination. It waswinning. And the last time I’d been desperate to win…
“Hey.” Carson grabbed my shoulder as my first match was called. “You’ve got this, all right? Ready body… ”
“Ready mind.”
The ritual helped, and as I shook out my nerves and stepped onto the mat, he added, “And this is being recorded for posterity, so kick some ass!”
Thanks, Carson.
But the idea of Ethan watching this laterwaspretty inspiring, I had to admit. I wanted him to look at it and know that I wasn’t just making shit up—I knew what I was doing. I wanted him to be proud of the fact that I was his boyfriend, that I could put my money where my mouth was. And… yeah, fine, I wanted him to maybe have a few impure thoughts when he watched me choke someone out with my thighs. So I needed to do that.
Do your best, and get it done.
My first match was with an older guy who probably should have been competing in the Master’s level, but the numbers were too sparse for that this time around. He was heavy through the middle, but moved with the kind of ease that showed he knew how to use it. I knew right away that letting him get on top of me would be a mistake; he had a dangerous amount of leverage and seemed strong enough to back it up, so I needed to start aggressively and then run down his stamina bar.
I went for a double-leg, but was rebuffed pretty fast and almost ended up flat on my face thanks to a sprawl. My next takedown attempt was more conservative, a simple ankle pick, but it got him down. With his legs between us, I managed to maneuver him into headquarters, but he was making it damn hard to pass to the side.
Fine, then I’ll go over the top.
I let go of my grip on his gi pants and set my handsdown next to his head, floating all my weight on his legs. Then I pivoted my hips and rolled off to the side, neatly passing his guard and landing in a nice, tight side mount position. From there, it was a war of points and attrition until almost the end of the round, when I tapped him out with a shoulder lock.
“Nice job,” he said with a little wince as we got up and shook hands.
“You too,” I said. “You’re dangerous, man.”
“I don’t know about that, but at least I made you work for it.”
As I walked off the mat, I waited to be hit with a wave of relief. I’d done it—I’d gone back on the mat after over a year away. I’d faced my fear, and I’d won. But I didn’t feel relief at all. Instead, all I felt was anticipation.
“Dude, awesome!” Carson was almost bounding up and down. “You ready for the next one?”
I spit my mouthguard into my hand and grinned. “Bring it on.”
My second round went a lot faster. My opponent was a few years younger than me and more of a wrestler than a jiu jitsu player. I let him take me down, then rolled him, got him in a north-south choke, and tapped him out in under a minute.
I had a bye round next, and it was then that I caught sight of the person I’d been dying to see since he left on Thursday.
“Ethan!” I raised my hand when I saw him meandering the edges of the mats, looking confused. “Hey!”
He saw me and headed over fast. “How do you find anything in here?” he asked as he reached us. “There are so many mats and no maps.”
“Ask a ref next time,” I said. “Or the announcers shouldknow.” I had to fight to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss. I didn’t want to lose my focus, but… I reached out and took his hand.There.That felt better.
Ethan smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “How’s it going?”
“Good so far.” I walked him through my first few matches, then pointed at Waylon, who was working to sink a triangle on his opponent. “I’m hoping to be in the final with him.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserves it.”
I got my wish, too. Waylon won his round by submission, and then it was him and me. He got five minutes for recovery, and I got five minutes to think about how I wanted this to go. I might not know his weaknesses, but I knew my own strengths, and I had a game plan from every position. I’d watched both his rounds, and he liked upper-body throws.
Fine, then. I’d overextend him and see howheenjoyed it.
