CHAMPION

"That extra ounce of power it takes to win when the match is even." --Muhammad Ali.
Written by Tim Ray Bearden and based on one of my jiu-jitsu tournaments.

I’m maintaining my composure, very aware of my breath, slightly flaring my nostrils as I suck in more air because I’m going to need it.

My body is loose, unencumbered, and my forebrain is lost in the moment, it’s nothing but fine-tuned limbic brain responses at the helm.

I can hear occasional cries from the crowd as they cheer, my eyes go squinty as I see my opponent. Sizing him up, he looks rugged and mountainy, if that’s a word.

Thanks to my way of breathing, I calmly grin and chew my favorite gum, Big Red, as the ref has us slap hands and fight. The heat is on.

Circling, trading grips, looking for openings. After what seems like a half-hour into the first 30 seconds, I try a leg sweep, but as my opponent reverses it, I find myself falling upside down through the air and towards the mat.

A crack as we both fall to the mat. I feel this racing tingly sensation from the back of my neck. My entire left arm is numb. A tiny voice inside tries to complain for a second, but complaining doesn’t win battles.

Ignoring it, I turn to my good side, applying pressure against my opponent with the back of my right bicep to get leverage. I’m both framing against his chest and making space for my next move, which allows me to bring him into my guard. He half escapes, but still in my grips, pushing away with my feet against his hips, anticipating his over compensation, I manage to flip him over my head in a rolling motion where my body weight follows his and I end up on top.

Excited for my near opportunity to execute my favorite midair armbar, I commit with too much force, allowing him to escape. With the momentum I inadvertently offered him, he guides the movement over into another roll, causing us to end exactly where we started.

Using leverage, I'm able to break his posture down by controlling the positioning of his elbows, he falls again, flat into my guard. In a scramble, his fingernail pokes my contact out of place and scratches my eyelid.

I find myself caught off guard by my opponent’s lack of sportsmanship, by the way he scratches and even grabs my throat when he’s backed into a corner, nearly animal-like. His attitude and experience shows --the way his movements lack control, the way he uses force and how he buries all of his weight behind his forehead into my face.

I’m well aware of the various ways to painfully apply a similar sort of pressure to my opponent; however, I wouldn’t ordinarily do that except out of meanness. There’s only time to react. Turning to my side, defending with my right arm and using my left hand, I'm able to fumble my contact lens back into place.

Although it's a tough match, I've learned one thing about this sport. No matter what happens or how it looks, no one is, at any point, “winning”; not until someone actually wins.

In the middle of the battle, time slows for a second and I'm consciously aware I'm pushing beyond all of my previously thought thresholds, beyond any place I’ve been before, both physically and psychologically. Today, I don’t have it in me to give up. Almost supernaturally, I have more energy and wherewithal in reserve than I imagined. Then the timer goes off. The fight is over.

I survived… 'of course I did.' I felt this relaxed confidence, like an effortless spark. There’s no way I wasn’t going to survive. After catching my breath and I have time to think about what happened, a distant fear tries seep in.

Quickly, I shut my mind off again. Instead, I allow myself to feel the glow inside, an overwhelming sense of unbeatableness, because every time I reached down into that proverbial barrel, it's always full. The bell sounds, round two.

Round two is more calculated. We’ve felt each other’s strengths and eagerness to win. I need to be smart, and I need to look for the finish quickly. I use leverage to keep my opponent's posture down and to bait him.

Knowing his instinct is to pull away to regain his posture, I time his bursts of exertions as he attempts to pull away from my grips. Knowing this and after his repeated attempt, I turn my momentum to match the direction of his, toppling him over and now I’m on top.

Careful not to lose my positioning this time; I go to work on maintaining dominance and stay on top. He tries to escape, but I change up my posture much the way water moves around obstacles, becoming heavy and smothering.

With each of his attempts to push me off, wiggle out from underneath, bridge, and apply frames with his arms in order to gain space, I'm able to limit his movement and remain in control of the fight.

I know exactly what to do to get him to roll over and unconsciously give up his back so that I can apply my most practiced submission. I've executed it thousands of times before.

I know the right leverage points and pressure to apply. I know how to lace my arm under his armpit, under his chin, and around his neck. I know the right direction to drive my weight behind my shoulder underneath his armpit, forcing his shoulder to uncomfortably rotate over his own head. It rarely lets me down. Like clockwork, opponents turn over and very few are able to escape, allowing me to set up my favorite choke submission.

As I begin to apply my technique, he does something unexpected, kind of juvenile as far as grappling goes. Instead of rolling over and giving up his back and defending from there, meanwhile buying himself potential time to escape, depending on his experience, he extends his arm to my shoulder to push me off of him.

He must’ve lost his cool. His fight or flight response kicked in. He’s not thinking straight. Running on instinct, and in this case, unpracticed and unrefined instinct, his mistake is my opportunity to triumph.

His arm is mine. Without even thinking, the way you go into auto-pilot mode on the way home from work and don't remember the actual drive.

Only pictures capturing each microsecond of the fight can tell the full story. It happens within the blink of an eye. I armbar him. I didn’t go easy when applying the submission. In the emotion of the moment, I reciprocate a bit of meanness back to him.

Like a wild animal, I put him down. The ref calls the match. Deep down I smile a satisfying grin. Sweat rains from my body onto the mat as I walk into the crowd, my muscles shaking in pain, mouth as dry as cotton, but it doesn’t matter. High fives and hugs were everywhere to be found; there’s no feeling like it in the world. The feeling of a champion.

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Photo cred :: https://www.instagram.com/forever29nutrition

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