Happy Feet

Off the mark a

Pitter pat

Two steps forward

Staking claim to

Center court

 

A confident advance

Asserting precedence to

Set the pace to

Take the lead

 

Maybe pushing hard

Perhaps inviting, coyly

The attack

Only to fade back

 

Or simply teasing

Here and there and

Here and

Gone again

 

In any case

A good beginning

Presaging

Successful ends

Scaling

Once they’re hooked

Beginners start to browse the uniforms

Coveting their own clean whites

A pristine mask

Unwrinkled glove

I also sense them

Shopping for appropriate ambitions

Trying on their goals and

Testing fit

That’s a beauty of our sport

Each of us can find a dream that’s

Comfortably beyond our normal reach

But not beyond our grasp

Some aim for the top while others

Strive with all they have to

Make a touch in every bout

Some scale the alphabet while teammates

Revel in their classless state

Youngsters spurt and test the limits of their

Ambling limbs their

Newfound strength

Veterans retrench and renegotiate the

Definition of success

Some drift away despite their magic touch, their

Grace—unfulfilled by their unearned success

Others struggle now and evermore

Addicted by the lure of what they never quite achieve

But might, the next time out

The lesson? If you find your joy in battle turning to frustration

Look within—the cure may lie in tweaking expectations

Annotations

Your first step, a little large
Leaving you
Open to attack

Your feint
A trifle weak
It leaves me unconvinced

Your parry, good!
So firm and strong, but
Where is the riposte?

And your back foot
Trails so far behind
(with knee sunk in)
You have no stable basis for your lunge

Other than that?
Perfection. Go kick butt

Fencing 101

Shake hands with the grip
(A firm but gentle grasp)
Don’t clutch it like a club

Hit with the pointy end
(Aim for the middle)
Don’t thwack

When attacked
Push the blade aside
Then stick out your arm

Knees bent, butt in, shoulders back
Wrist firm, arm relaxed
Don’t sneeze in your mask

Move—use both directions
Advance AND retreat
Proper footwork—don’t go running down the strip

And (this is most important)
Don’t forget to breathe

Ingrained

Your butt sticks out

His knee collapses inward on the lunge

She squeals when attacked, frozen into immobility

His hand—magnetically attracted to his chest

Her automated defense—stick the arm out straight
And run away

I haven’t seen this crew for a full year
And nothing’s changed
Habitual reactions
Technical tics
Deep rooted and, I fear
Entirely resistant to reform

My consciousness uncomfortably aroused
I catch myself in surreptitious glances
At my feet
Peeking o’er my shoulder at my tush
Self-consciously suspecting a dispassionate observer
Back from leave
Would think the same of me…

Oh Stuart, can we get a mirror for the salle?
A little self-reflection could be good for all

Regression

I’m ashamed to
Act this way
Schoolyard pettiness
Kindergarten cliques
Junior highjinks

Never quite available when
You come up to bout
Drift away to tape my blade
Upon your approach
Always on
Some other strip

All beneath my dignity
—ok, beneath my age—

But I can’t stop

I conclude it’s
Chemical
Embedded in some primal
Crevasse of my brain
We simply do not synch

Best I can manage is to cover with some
Modicum of grace
What I can’t reform

Knowing I should thank you for
This lesson on
Attachment, and aversion
The very human nature of
The pack, the herd
Sneeches seeking stars
Who’s in, who’s out

Remembering that boundaries shift—
And in the past, I’ve been the one left ghosting on the other side

Manners

Proper salutation
Not some half-assed
Bobble of the blade

Shake with true regard

Don't slap, or cringe as if avoiding

Leprosy

Hold on to the socket
Hand it to
The next one up

Extra credit: when defeated
Cheer your opponent
In their next DE

Share—snacks, chairs, credit,
Spare equipment, everything but blame
Courtesy’s embedded in the nature of our game

Taxonomy (continued)

Diagnostic answers to the question, “whose touch?”

Mine! Didn’t you see me take the blade!?!
You missed! Remised!
I think there’s a dead spot in your lamé…

***

Yours, I do believe
I felt you take the blade
Ever so light
A very sweet parade-riposte
Well done!

***

Dunno—together?
I can’t tell
Who started first
Let’s throw it out

I ask again—where do you see yourself?

In My Day

Footwork, first and foremost
Endless lines: advance, retreat
Minutia of how to pose the
Foot, hip, knee
A hundred lunges every day

Finally! Earned by dogged patience
The privilege to hold a blade and hit…
A target
Extend, recover
Aiming at the one square inch of center
Marked in tape
‘til it felt my arm would drop

My reward for battering the
Leather square into submission?
Drills! Two on two
Precise prescriptions
Parry, riposte:
Four six seven eight
Executed without deviation
Oooo! Exotica—a circle six for spice

Finally (by grace my patience held out that long)
A bout…

Now—phfffft.
Look at this year’s crop:
Whacking at each other from the start
Blades like windmills
(reminding me of miniature golf)
Feet splay
Shoulders hunch
Butts stick out
Foils clutched like staves
Lunges like a bunny hop

I look at them and see…

Ungainly grace
Unconscious strategy, and
Joy

***
Maybe we could trade:
A little bit of my precision for
A bite of your
Naïve improvisation
Spit and shake—a deal

So, who comes out ahead?

Do Tell

Arm hitch
Off hand twitch
Shoulder tense
…Signals of offense

Exhalation
Hesitation
Blade whack
…Predicate attack

Foot stutter
Hand flutter
Sudden halt
…Prefacing assault

Ingrained moves
Well-worn grooves
Unconsciously betray
…Make you easy prey

Solution? Simple
Better execution
Hide, or better yet
…Misguide

Silent Teaching

How can I explain
What lives, imperfectly
Encoded in synapse, muscle, bone?

Words fail

“The lunge is thus
The arm extends, just so
The knee remains above the toe”

I fumble to explain

Language is a feeble conduit
My blade conveys much more than nouns and verbs
Your eyes can hear much more than I can speak

This, this action, tension, angle, spring

Just watch
Let lessons sink into the mirror of your mind
Transmute into memory of acts that were not yours

But could have been, and will be in a future past
When you surpass me with your graceful acts

Burn-out

Here’s a secret…
Talent’s over-rated

Some young bucks with
Natural ease
Unselfconscious grace
Instinctive touch
Start with fearless joy
But quickly cool
The arrogance of easy victory
Turns to frustration
When they hit the rising asymptotic curve of skill

Meanwhile

Those with fewer innate vantages
Persevere with patient, plodding
Pedestrian persistence
Savoring each small victory hard won from
Hours of toil
Pain and
Sheer determination
Appreciating every small advance
Backwards through the alphabet
Celebrating milestones
One touch against superior opponents
One perfect bout
Third place
In the end, they may o’er take their meteoric friends

Woody had it right—
Eighty-percent of success is just showing up

Beginnings

Listen to the coach
Eyes and ear-tips lasered on his every word
Even if you do not understand them
Yet

Safety first
Even blunt, your weapon is a weapon
No pointing it at faces bare of any mask!
Tip down

Always do your best
Even if you cannot make it work
All that’s asked is earnest effort
Try

Play nice
If you lose your temper, turn and walk away
Never never never strike to hurt
Behave

Remember why you’re here
What a joy to stand upon the strip!
Battling with mind with hand with blade against a worthy foe
Have fun

And Badger says:
Help yourself to cookies, after your last bout
Now, en guarde

Procrastination

“I’m tired, and my foot is sore”
“I’ve already fenced you twice, I’ll wait
For a new opponent”
“My tip tape’s shredded and untidy”
(So pick at it with forefinger and thumb)
“Let’s not really fence, let’s whack, instead”
“It’s almost time to go, I might as well relax”
“Look! Cookies! I will eat just one. I earned it, right?”

So many ways to cleverly evade
The rigors of real practice
Flirting,
Playing ball,
Arguing the touch (yours or mine, and why?)
Debating fine interpretation of the rules

And (worst of all) the subtle laziness
That looks like earnest effort
Doing the same action
O’er and o’er and o’er
Why? Because it works
Avoiding the real challenge of
Experiment, and failure

So ask yourself,
How best to use the small and precious span
You have within this salle?
Why, just for example, are you wasting time
Reading this damn poem!?

Badger says: get back to work…