The Golden Ticket

AKA my weekend in Santa Cruz at the ADCC West Coast Qualifier for the World Pro Jiu Jitsu Cup to be held this spring in Abu Dhabi.

Regular readers will know I had signed up for this tournament, trained for it and then got sick. While preparing I had disappointing results at other tournaments I considered easy warm ups to the big show.

So when the weather turned bad, I couldn't get anyone to go with me, I missed two weeks of training right before the tournament due to a severe cold, depression at recent poor jiu jitsu results and just not really giving the attention to my physical fitness I felt I should I wasn't sure if I even would go this weekend.

I didn't make hotel reservations and it really wasn't until Saturday morning that I knew I was going to go.

I could have taken the Porsche but I was concerned about gas mileage and I was to focused on just getting there, not "having fun" along the way. Though I did take cell phone pics of every Cayman I drove by, just to confuse them as I passed them, jealous inside but knowing I could be driving one if I wanted.

There was snow on the 5 going over the Grapevine.


The clouds in the San Juaquin Valley looked like the clouds in the opening of the Simpsons and the sky went from white at the horizon to dark blue overhead, going through the full gradient of color. It was odd and stunning. I had forgotten how the sky could look after being under the continual one shade of blue in San Diego.


Heading west on the 152 I was shocked by the hills, the verdant almost Middle Earth quality to the area.


The overpowering smell of garlic preceding me into Gilroy always takes me by surprise in-spite of having been there at least half a dozen times.

Having been brainwashed by the evil box, I mean television, I knew that if I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express I would have no excuse for a poor performance. The weather was super similar to home so my lingering cold symptoms gave me no relief.


The venue was only 2 miles from my hotel and was easy to find, I was even early enough to find free parking. A pet peeve of mine from when I moved outta the sticks and into real cities is that I hate to pay for parking. I will do all in my power and walk an extra half mile to avoid paying for parking.

I will be writing a general review for Tournament Review Tuesday at www.TheFightworksPodcast.com so if you want more specifics about that aspect you can check it out there this Tuesday.

The t-shirts were a cool design.

I got a first round bye. Won my first match. There was a DQ of my next opponent and I was suddenly in the finals!

Remember, the top 2 in each division then went on to fight each other for an all expenses paid trip to the WJJPC, so a free trip and then the chance to win $1,500 there were all on the line. People definitely brought their "A" games.

OK, now and admission. Or even confession. My nerves were out of control. I was anxious before I even left and was grasping at excuses not to go. Now I was here and the fight of flight kicked in huge. All I felt was FLIGHT! Not the best thing as I think fight would have been a more helpful urge. My mind and body were at total war and it was a zero sum battle, no one was going to win.

So I decided to erase it all. I stopped caring. I smiled. I joked. I laughed out loud. I made it all go away. And I felt soooo much better. I still think I have some mental issues that need to be worked out as far as my competing goes. I went to a sports psychologist before but I think I could stand to go again.

The battle for 1st place in my division was also the battle for 1st place in 'Boring Fight of the Day" award. A rough scrambling take down in the first few seconds and then him in my guard for the remaining 5 minutes and some. Final score 2-0. Or is it 0-2? He had a black gi, I had a blue gi... so which one of us was the yellow and green score? Neither of us were given the yellow/green belt...I remember looking at it and thinking it was me.

No disrespect to my competitor. As he never came close to passing my guard, but I also never came close to sweeping or submitting him. But I thought I was winning, so I kept him under control. Anyways, not a pretty match but it earned me a 2nd place medal and a chance to fight in the Absolute class and win the 'golden ticket' as it were.

On the podium we talked and compared training and ages. When they realized I was at least 10 years older than them they were blown away! Suddenly their demeanor changed. "Oh man, you are amazing" and "Wow, you are super strong, you totally broke my posture the whole time" and "Dang, you're my hero." It felt good to know I could hang with the young kids and impress them. And in some cases beat them. That is me on the far right, yeah, 2nd place again!



At this stage I was elated. I had my medal. I was advancing to the next round. I felt good. But you know what? I was satisfied. I had a medal. I fought good guys. I was staring at least a 7 hour drive home and the Absolute wasn't going to start until about 2pm. I didn't feel like fighting as the lightest person in the Absolute. I didn't feel like getting home at midnight.

I assessed what was important to me, if I had met a reasonable goal and if my current feelings and motives were legitimate or my earlier fear creeping back. I was happy with my medal and I just wanted to be home.

On the way home I stopped at a Barnes and Noble to get a new audio CD to listen to, as World War Z only lasted me the drive up there. To reward myself I bought a huge coffee table book about Universal Studios monsters. You know the classic black and white monsters like Dracula, Frankenstien, Wolfman and such. Man I love those movies and characters! I also got Steve Martin's "Born Standing Up" to listen to on the drive home.

Seven hours later, I'm home. Healthy, happy and content. I'd like to thank all my training partners, my friends and especially my family for their support down the amateur athletics path I am on.

PS-I'm gonna need a bigger medal case. The second place curse is still in effect evidently so I am gonna keep piling them up. (which I guess is better than no medal...)