Balancing Act

    It was June of 1997.  I had gotten the required signature from my judo sensei to fight in the national black belt  ladder tournament.  My eighteen year old mentality told me I was proven to be the best over and over in state and regional fights, so why not shoot higher.  Nobody wanted to go to a fight where spectators weren't allowed, I headed Southwest to Dayton, Ohio alone.

  I arrived at the Radisson hotel where all  the fighters were staying and it was conveniently connected to the convention center by a skywalk.  It was definitely the nicest hotel that I had the pleasure of staying during my six years of fighting.  It was nine o’clock at night and there wasn’t  many staff or patrons crowding the lobby.

  “Can I help you?”  The woman behind the counter asked.

  “Yes, my name is Jeff Carol I have a reservation.”

  “Oh, it says your staying in the suites reserved for the fighters.”

  “Yeah that’s me,” I said as she passed me the key.

  “Your staying in room 1406, restaurant‘s on the fifteenth floor.”

  “Thank you.”   

  I got to my room and relaxed on the king size bed, drifting to sleep only minutes later.

  Registration went smoothly and the weigh in didn’t mean as much to me as to others.  Two-hundred-fifty pounds was forty pounds over the heavy-weight  division limit, my disadvantage was my six and a half foot height, in a competition where stability and balance were key my tall stature could easily be thrown to the ground.  That was all okay because the ground fight was where I won.

  The fights started in the round robin fashion.  Four fights were conducted at a time with three referees per mat, the center ref was to start and stop the fight and the two corner refs helped in scoring.  The closed tournament didn’t allow spectators, the space on the bleachers was crowded instead by hundreds of eager contestants.  The ref’s called out in Japanese, yelling their calls loud enough to be heard by the score tables.

  A perfect throw or combination of bad throws could end a fight along with submissions or a thirty second holddown the most dreaded way to win was by fighting a full five minutes and letting the judges decide on the winner.  A perfect match would end on the first throw so you could conserve energy for the next fight.  I waited five hours to fight, watching as masters of the art applied their techniques.

    “Carol! Your on deck, mat 4!”  The man with the clipboard finally yelled to the bleachers.

  I stepped to the edge of the mat and watched the fight that was before mine.  The two men grappled for dominance.  The man on top drove his knuckles into the other contestant's jaw to expose his adams apple.  The man on bottom gasped for breath as the sleeper hold around his neck slowly cut the blood off to his brain from pressure on the sides of his neck. 

  “Matte!”  The ref yelled from his knees to stop the fight as he witnessed the stubborn black belt's eyes  roll back into his head. 

  My opponent and I were waved into place.  His center of gravity was significantly lower than mine, either I was going to get down to his height or I would lift him up to mine.  We bowed to each other.

  “Hajime!” The deafening scream from the center ref started the fight.

  We locked our hands on each others uniforms, pulling each other, struggling for balance.  I tried a standing choke,  dragging his thick white collar around his neck, more to escalate the fight than to win.  The stalemate was over and he countered by trying to arm-bar the arm that controlled his neck.  My hand was caught in his lapel and he pushed his arms up on my elbow.  With my free hand I forcefully reached for a low grip on his lapel, knocking him backwards and freeing my hand when I illegally punched him in the sternum.  Our collar grips were once again and he pulled my head down to him smacking our temples together.  He turned his back to me, attempting a hip throw but the distance between us was too great and he couldn’t get the leverage that was needed.  When I thought he’d given up on the throw he dropped to his knees plowing my head and shoulder directly down into the floor.  Pain shot down my spine, it was over.  I couldn’t fight from the ground.  I waited for the thirty count from the ref to be over.  I stood and bowed to my competitor and gracefully left the floor.

  I was scheduled for a second fight but declined due to the pain in my back, it wasn’t worth risking permanent damage.

  The four hour drive home was excruciating and lonely.  I kept playing the fight over in my head, I did my best and lost, a humbling experience at the least.

 

  My spine had only been strained which was a relief and I have since taken myself out of the tournament circuit.  Occasionally I fight in exhibitions as long as they fund a good cause.  My pride and joy is the students I teach and training them to excel in the grappling sport.  I returned to the ladder tournament  five years later, coaching my students to three gold medals.

                                                                                The End

 









































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