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I’m keeping an eye on the Epee World Championships.  Nice to see Eric Boisse poised to take the gold!  I just love his style.

As I look back on the fencing tournament last Saturday, realize it will never get that good again.  My first gold.  My fellow student, good friend, and teammate as my final bout.  On the final touch, my heart fell as I saw the red light behind me score 15.  Even though I had earned my D, I felt no celebration, only gratitude for what a dignified and honorable set of moments I had been sharing with our coach, each other, the director, and our friends.  

On the way home, I thought about each memorable aspect of the bout: the preparation our coach gave us in his thick Russian-American accent, the stylish dignity and cologne of the director, saluting my teammate and familiar fencing partner, the touches both scored and taken, the double touches at the end, and the excited cheering of our friends. 

I remember the moment of horror in the second period when my teammate flèched and I took his blade in circle six parry.  As he passed me, my ripost slipped beneath the bib of his mask. I said, “oh my God, are you ok?”  Thankfully, the touch was light and he only had a little strawberry on his Adam’s apple where the tip of my blade touched his skin.

We traded points throughout the first and second periods until the score was 14-14.  At the very end, our coach called us to the center of the strip; we each took a knee as he told us, “My students, whoever wins, this bout was great, I couldn’t be more proud of you.”  It was truly a bout that neither of us could have done without the help of this great man who we are so blessed to have as our coach.  Of any sport, only fencing has the dignity and charity where such relationships are possible.

On the way home, I couldn’t help put in the Greg Brown song, “If I had Known“.  I felt this warm feeling overwhelm me as I sung along the lyrics.

A little creek you could spit across
Jimmy and me each took one more toss
our spinners bright in the evening air
People always said, There ain't no fish in there
Well grownups they ain't always right
Jimmy and me walked home slow that night
right down Main Street in our P.F. Fliers
with two 5 lb. bass making grown men liars
Jimmy if I had known-- I might have stopped fishing right then
It's just as well we don't know when things will never be that good again
...

Fencing season!  Time to organize the fencing bag!  My coach always tells me that being organized for the tournament gives you a 10% advantage.  Winning a tournament takes approximately 60 touches, so that’s 6 touches.  Depending on the touches, it could be the difference between a medal or no medal.

What’s in my bag?  I start with two body cords and at least three working weapons.  Even though I can fix my own weapons, I always go over them with my coach the Friday before the tournament, because then I know someone is behind me and is caring for my performance.  It’s my %5 confidence boost and it’s our relationship as coach and student.  

For weapons, my primary weapons are two German maraging with light blades and an even lighter Ukranian blade with Russian grips. I like to throw in a French grip weapon as my fourth backup:  If I don’t need it, a right-handed teammate could always use it in a pinch.

Except for tightening screws, I never fix my own equipment at tournaments; my job is to fence.  However, I am always am prepared to have someone fix my equipment for me. I bring a kit with super glue, an Allen wrench, screws, big and small springs, an extra tip, a shim, test box, and a screw driver.  Lost screws are the most common yellow card, so I always check my weapon before plugging in.  Between bouts, I try to remember to tighten my tip screws.  Acetone also comes in handy.  More than once I’ve met a poor mother with her hands full of super-glue after attempting to fix a son’s or daughter’s popped wire.  Helping strangers at tournaments is what fencing is all about.

Except my mask, everything I wear, including my t-shirt and underwear, is white.  I was taught that fencers wear white for purity, good sportmanship, and honorable bearing.  Fencing is an ancient sport that has been practiced by knights for hundreds of years and purity is at the heart of the knight ethic. 

The obvious items to pack are pants, jacket, glove and mask.  Too many fencers forget to wear a pair of baseball slider shorts with a cup: I’ve taken more than one good hard fleche that hit my cup hard enough for me to hear it.  My coach taught me to bring two extra cotton t-shirts, change into a clean shirt after the pools, and after the direct elimination bouts, change into a clean shirt.  It makes me feel better and it makes me fence better.  Part of fencing is being proud, and it’s hard to be proud in a stinking, wet t-shirt. 

I always wear my club jacket, and I never forget that I am representing my club.  When I win medals, I win them for myself, my coach, and my club.  I always strive for the highest sportmanship.  If I win a bout, I always thank my parter and never smile as I shake their hand.  Smiling on the handshake is impolite: If you’ve just won a bout, then your partner has lost and they probably don’t feel very good.  It’s rude to smile at someone when they aren’t happy.  If I’m happy and need to celebrate, I turn away to celebrate.  Fencing is passionate, and I do yell, but I always face away from my partner.

I always carry a first-aid kit in my bag: naproxen, band-aids, Gentle-tape first aid wrap, an Ace bandage, chemical cold presses, and moleskin.  Fencing is a martial sport – people get hurt.

Other things in my bag: a jump rope to warm up, an iPod to focus my mind, some nuts, figs, raisins (the sort of fair that an errant knight would eat), and a big bottle of water to keep at the end of the strip while I fence.