i’ve never been particularly good at a sport, at least not without a lot of work. in some cases, i’m pretty bad at a sport even with lots of work. so i expected to be especially bad at fencing, since it requires planning several moves ahead, like chess, and i have yet to meet someone who can’t beat me at chess (including EvilGremlin.) thinking, reacting and moving quickly are also important, and i am nothing if not slow.
our two-month beginner’s class has ended, and we’re now allowed to show up to the club’s open fencing on tuesday and thursday nights. the open fencing is cool because we use electrical equpipment. on top of your regular protective gear, you wear an electrical jacket (a lame) and a body cord, plugging one end into your weapon and the other into a scoring box. thank god for the awesomeness that is the hawkeye fencing club – $40 a year in dues, and i can use $1500 worth of equipment from the club armory instead of buying it myself.
the club is mostly the members of the college competitive teams, but also some kids from a local mennonite boarding school and their instructor, some high-school kids who have been training (and competing) for years with one of the local bad-asses, and a handful of baby boomers who look deceptively like nutty professors instead of the national champion USFA fencers that they actually are. it’s a great environment to learn the sport, because everyone is really motivated to teach. and the next two months are going to be pretty beginner-free due to finals and then a long holiday break, so it’s basically going to be two private lessons a week with some of the best fencers in the state, all for the low low price of parking my car on campus for two hours.
so my first open fencing session could have been a fluke. my second session could have been chalked up to everyone pulling their punches because i’m just a beginner. but after four sessions of electrical fencing in which i completely spanked, stabbed, and generally dominated, i will allow myself to declare that, somehow, i FUCKING ROCK at fencing. as you may have noticed, this has given my ego some godzilla-sized license to ill.
i always beat other beginners, usually 5-0, occasionally 5-1. when i fence an experienced competitor, i tend to lose 5-2 or even 5-3. and i’ve watched this happen every time i’ve gone up against an experienced fencer… after i score my SECOND point, the expression on my opponent’s face changes from “hey, not bad!” to something along the lines of “oh HELL no.” and then i get stabbed HARD. i LOVE the fact that the real fencers don’t pull their punches on me like they do for all the other beginners. my right upper arm is covered in bruises, some pretty spectacular. when the tip of a foil is about 1/4” diameter – with a shock-absorbing spring-loaded compression tip, no less – and some of your bruises are the size of a baby’s fist… you’re getting hit pretty hard. but hitting my upper arm doesn’t score a point, so every bruise means i parried perfectly. woooooo! also, it means i need to upgrade my protective gear. next purchase: a good plastron.
calling a bout, especially a foil bout, is tough. you can’t just look at the lights on the scoring box and yell out the score. you have to call out each move, by name, made by each of the fencers, that led up to the point being scored (or missed), including every clash of blades that indicated a change of right-of-way, since you can’t score a point at all unless you have taken right-of-way. i was pretty proud of myself when, during a bout with a nutty-professor-type saberist, we wound up in such an ungodly blade-lock that went on for at least half a minute, neither one of us giving up, twisting our blades around and around in an attempt to break past the other’s blade and score, that by the time he finally stabbed me, the very experienced fencer who calling the bout – a guy who can call out “halt! attack from the left, no; parry-riposte, no; remise, yes; score is 2 to 1!” without blinking … couldn’t say any more than “uuuuh… well, the final action was a parry-riposte from the right for a point.” i think that means i’m doing okay.
have you noticed i’m excited about this? this is up there with fly-fishing, playing the banjo and violin, playing scrabble, and playing video games. actually, it may even be on its own level of awesomeness above that tier, just below the highest tier of awesomeness (the “sex and eating” tier.) i originally thought that i would gravitate toward the sabre, with its large target area – basically, you run at the other guy and bash him over the head; not a whole lot of thought needs to go into it. or maybe epee, in which you don’t have to worry about right-of-way, meaning you can score on your opponent any time and any way you want. but i’ve surprised myself by really starting to dig the finesse of the foil – the elaborate rule structure of right-of-way, the small target area, the careful footwork. i’ve been reading up on technique and strategy. i’ve been showing up for every minute of open fencing, identifying my weaknesses. i’ve been beating the poop out of my target every day, working on my point control, my footwork, my speed and accuracy. i’ve been watching bouts on youtube to try to get the hang of calling a bout. i’ve been DREAMING about fencing. these dreams also involve aliens and black helicoptors, but i fight them off with my awesome powers of fencing. anyway. i’m just sayin. i’m digging the fencing.
i can’t wait to start competing in USFA tournaments – as soon as i can afford to purchase (and repurchase, as it breaks) electrical fencing equipment. that’ll unfortunately have to wait until PRM has finished his residency. not a problem. all i can say is, three more years of practicing in my basement hallway on a homemade target of drywall covered in an old blanket with a cheapo foil is going to make me a total badass. some people look forward to finally finishing residency and getting paid a real salary because it means they can buy a big house, a nice car, an awesome vacation… i’m thinking my extravagent purchase is going to be some top-of-the-line leon paul stuff. including my own electrical scoring equipment and piste for the basement. and because fencing is a side-scrolling game – the competition surface is 17 meters long, but only 1-1/2 meters wide – that leaves plenty of room for the stripper pole, a requisite in the game room of every member of the neuveau riche (as any episode of MTV cribs will show you.)
also? awesome drinking game. fuck darts.
