My experience from the AJP tournament, Istanbul, December 2022

Look at this picture. I am on the left, wearing black. How do I look? Exhausted, that’s how.

This was my sixth tournament. I had convinced myself that by now I was experienced enough not to freak out, to be laser-focused, and to get the best outcome possible. Wrong, wrong, and wrong again. In fact, I waited for a few months to write this article precisely because I needed to reflect on what happened and give it enough time to try to be objective.

The first tournament experience is usually tough. The first fight you have, perhaps the second and third and a few more — you are desperately trying to get used to the aggression and roughness of it. Yes, training in jiu-jitsu should prepare you for this. But it is not quite the same. The first time you go down as your opponent launches an aggressive double-leg takedown, the first time a hand lands on your collar with serious intent, or the first time you get bull rushed as you are desperately trying to prevent a guard pass — what happens is a bit of panic settles in. Your heartbeat elevates. You are starting to run out of breath. This is surprising, after all, you roll in the gym for an hour and here you can barely handle 5–6 minutes. You regularly fight with big strong guys, but your opponent, who doesn’t quite look that intimidating, feels too strong or too fast.

You can barely hear your coach screaming. The noise of the crowd comes and goes. There are moments when there seems to be nothing else, just you and the opponent. Then there are moments when there is so much noise it makes you dizzy.

I remember my first match. My heartbeat was so elevated I could hear it. The opponent felt strong as a bull. After the first 30 seconds, the shock passed and I kept thinking — I am not going to take damage, I should trust my training. I did feel better. Since then, I have had my good days and bad days in competition.

Which brings me to the AJP Tour Tournament of December 2022 in Istanbul.

This was, as I said, my sixth tournament. What could possibly go wrong? Had I not seen it all? Ah, so comical. Thinking a bunch of white and blue belt competitions meant that much. That I was already an experienced competitor. False confidence can be a serious problem because it makes you think you can be successful despite whatever goes wrong. And one big thing that went wrong was that I barely slept the last couple of days before the competition.

We arrived at the tournament venue, weighed in and the next morning, the matches started.

DOWN

We were only three in the bracket. By the time my first match started, I had waited for hours. During this time, I did all the wrong things, mentally. I burnt myself out. Kept thinking about the match, about what I wanted to do. Nothing wrong with that. But these thoughts were constantly interrupted by other thoughts. That I was a blue belt with four stripes, so I had to win. Anything less than a double gold would be a failure. This, of course, was a colossal mistake. Putting that kind of pressure on yourself is a direct path to failure. If your status, achievements, or accolades do not generate calm confidence, you start feeling like an impostor, desperate to prove to everyone and to yourself that you deserve to be where you are.

When I stepped on the mats, I felt mentally exhausted. It did not help of course, that my opponent was as game as they come. In a few seconds, he took me down and started trying to pass my guard. He was strong, he was focused and surprisingly technical. But he was facing a diminished version of me. I was doing what I could to keep him at bay, but by minute two of the match, I could not feel my arms. I couldn’t breathe. I was getting increasingly frustrated with myself. Minute after minute, my opponent racked up points and the desperation settled in. Once I accepted that I was going to lose the match, I focused on not getting submitted. He tried an armbar. I defended. He tried a choke. I defended. Finally, the ref stopped the match after what felt like an eternity. Final score — 20–0. The worst defeat I have had in my 17 tournament matches.

As I walked (or rather crawled) off the mats, I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I sat down next to the mats and closed my eyes, trying to regain my breathing. Failed. Opened my eyes and saw the tournament organizer who took one good look at me and then told the referee to give me 5 minutes before the next match. Yes, there was going to be the next match. The thought of stepping on the mat again was almost physically painful.

As my brain started functioning again, slowly, the thoughts that filled my head were not helpful at all. What an embarrassment. 20–0. My team must be so upset. My coach must be so upset. My son (also a competitive jiu-jitsu practitioner) saw that. How could that happen? Maybe I should never compete again?

UP

Then the rational brain kicked in. Calm down — I said to myself. Just breathe. This was the worst match ever. But you did not get submitted. Now is the time to forget that match. I can relax now. No pressure. I won’t be getting gold, so no point being upset about it now. Just do the next match. Focus on what is in front of you.

The referee signaled for me to come to the mats, my opponent was already there. He had seen the mauling I had just received and probably thought it’d be a walk in the park. Can’t blame him if he did.

I triangled him in a little over a minute. A win. A convincing win. How about that?

After thanking the opponent and the referee, I walked off the mats and went to the stands where my teammates were. Despite all the words of encouragement and congratulations, it was obvious they were a bit shell-shocked at how my first match had gone. I thought about how I could turn this around. My friends! — I said with a big smile. — If you had any worries about your matches, trust me, you will be fine. You would have to try really hard to lose 0–20.

As I sat there, with my body aching, I tried to calm my nerves. Yes, I got silver in gi. Not too bad. I did not get submitted. I won by submission. Now I had to concentrate on the no-gi part of the tournament where in the quarterfinal I was paired against a 31-year-old Russian.

DOWN AGAIN

Perhaps it did not help that a couple of hours passed before I was to compete again. I reverted to destructive self-talk, making the same mistake I had made earlier. Hyped myself up. After all, I was much better in no-gi than gi. I thought I would do well here. As I thought this, my heartbeat started getting up. I did not make the connection at the time, but I can see now that this was the wrong approach.

My opponent was a young wrestler (damn it) and attacked viciously. At some point, as he was trying to pass my guard, he tried a baseball choke of sorts and squeezed his fist into my cheek and I felt my teeth cracking. This brought me back to earth. You, son of a bitch, I thought. I got back into the fighting mode and regained some ground, then wrapped my arm around his neck. Arm-in guillotine. I had it deep. Then again, doubt started creeping in. My arm-in guillotine is not good. I need a clean guillotine. And sure enough, as I tried to re-position, he escaped. I felt very frustrated. And as I was already low on energy, he started accumulating points and won the match.

I was very upset. Walked off the mats, came to the stands, sat down, and did not say a word for a while. My teammates recognized that it was best to leave me alone. My son put his hand on my shoulder and said — it is over. I was glad it was.

That was the competition. Down. Up. Down again.

In a tournament— when you don’t win, the question is did you lose or did the opponent beat you?

- Losing means you lost focus. You were not present. It is self-inflicted.

- Being beaten is — you put up a fight, did your best jiu-jitsu and the opponent was just better.

The only way you can make sure your experience was not a waste of time is to identify specific lessons from each loss. These can be specific technical issues, like fixing my arm-in guillotine (match 3 takeaway). You can also make sure you don’t take your wins for granted and seek lessons in those too. You can also adjust your tournament preparation, mindset, and thinking process, as well as your routine before and during the tournament.

Here are a few thoughts:

Train. Understand that when competing, you are going to fall back on the most trusted techniques that you can perform almost subconsciously. So train, train, and train. I won’t go into details on how to train for a competition — that’s a separate topic altogether. But know this — your confidence depends on your training. As John Danaher once remarked, confidence does not come from words, it comes from accumulation of skill.

Improve your conditioning. If you are exhausted, your technique becomes unimportant. There are different ways of doing this, again, a separate topic altogether, but among other things, don’t neglect good sleep. Also, focus on your breathing. Doing breathing exercises can help improve your cardio.

Your tournament is NOT that important. Don’t burn yourself out overthinking what might happen. As I often say to my teammates, no one remembers or cares about Gordon Ryan’s wins or losses as a white or blue belt. Most tournaments are to help you identify holes in your game and what to focus on in your training, maybe to have a fun time with your friends and get a bit of an adrenaline rush from the competition. Treat it as such.

Your tournament is NOT that insignificant. Yes, the tournament is not such a huge deal, but it is also not nothing. If you approach it correctly, it can be a great motivator to train and improve. It can be a source of great inspiration, new friendships, and fun times. It is a test of your ability to perform under pressure and a medium through which you can improve that.

Trust your training. Don’t overthink whether you are ready. Do what you know how to do. You can, of course, try new things, but the tournament is not usually the best place for improvisation.

Be here, now. Be present. Don’t overthink your environment. The crowd. The noise. Your family, friends, and your teammates will not care whether you won or lost. Focus on your match. On your opponent. And nothing else.

Defeats are normal. Rather than trying not to lose or trying to win, focus on giving it your all. If you come out of a match with no regrets, everything else will line up. Maybe not in this specific tournament, but longer term.

Expect aggression. Don’t be shocked at how hard your opponent attacks. Expect it. Initiate aggression if you can. This will save you valuable match time and unnecessary self-talk during the match. No one is coming to the tournament to lose. Yes, some people might choke and fold, but most will give it a fair shot. Do the same.

Practice listening to the coach. It is amazing how little we end up listening to corner advice during our first matches. You need to train that. Do drills in training when your coach yells out advice and try to detect the coach’s voice from among the noise. I find that the most useful information is about the time — how many minutes are left in the match — knowing this will help you decide on your strategy and tactics.

Winning the first points. This is crucial, it is hard to come back from a point deficit in a 5-minute match. So try to initiate the action, this will help you relax and have a clearer head for the rest of the match.

You need to realize that of all the “tough” people you know in your life, a very small percentage has what it takes to survive a week in a jiu-jitsu gym. So you are already in a very small group of people. But then there is the next level. Of all the people who even regularly come to training, only a small percentage competes. So the fact that you are there, competing — you are already among very few select warriors. Take pride in that.

 . . .

Just the last week I did my first tournament at a purple belt level. The advice I have shared in this article helped me avoid being nervous and I did quite well, winning one match by submission and losing in the finals on points. Most importantly, I did not burn myself out before even fighting and was able to enjoy the experience.

Competitions can be an amazing experience. I have had a blast traveling and competing with my sons and teammates. I have made a lot of new friends along the way and have great memories. Try it out!