When did you know??? - A BJJ Confidence Question

[87]

i always loved fighting. i dont know what it is about me. when i was 8 i turned on the tv and it was wrestling, i loved 2 people putting it all on the line a fighting. i wanted to be a fighter ever since. then when i was 13 i found out about mma and i loved it even more because it wasnt fixed. i was always fighting with friends rolling around and stuff. i started training and loved it ever since. i have a friendly record against friends of 51-6 and i just love the sport. i am 15 now nd new i wanted to some sort of fighting since i was 8ish.

wow man 51-6 is pretty good. you even throw down in the cage?

 

[Latecomer]

It was a balmy march night in my hometown of Houston. I had originally planned to dress up for going out, but it was too warm, so I changed out my Ed Hardy jeans for a pair of basketball shorts (Celtics green, natch). It was still too warm, so I slipped out of my drawers and told the boys here we go!, swinging-free, out to the clubs.

After getting my thing going on with like, six gals, who were killer hot, I needed to fuel the beast. So I pressed out the sex wrinkles in my Lamborghini Yellow Tapout original (website direct, yo!) and hit up Whataburger to pound my grill.

You would not believe the shit that went down in that place next.

I placed my order, using the helpful number code for optimal combination of food and beverage, and addressed the server by her appropriate title ("Number two, ho!"). I waited for at least three minutes with my crew - Brother Cowboy Jeans and the Laughin' Mexicans - and they still didn't have my order together? That did it. I reached down into my soul, and used my emotional surfboard to ride the fury back out. I wanted my cheeseburger, and I wanted it now!

The lowbrow grill scrapers behind the counter could never understand the predicament of a club-crashing, ufc-training hard ass like myself. I needed nourishment, and could not be expected to wait in line with the purple drank belching yahoos that were clearly not on an itinerary for more deep squish up in the VIP sections of Houston's finest drinking establishments.

I repeated my call for satisfaction, when a scraggly, neckbeared jaw jacker from the cheap seats interrupted. He already had his cheeseburger, he made clear, with the sing song taunt of a nightingale haunting the windowsills of a hospice for orphans. Whatever bribes or sneaktheivery he had employed to bypass the queue, I did not know or care to employ, and I let him know without any hesitation, that he could eat his cheeseburger in piece, or take satisfaction in the parking lot. I would beat his ass, in that parking lot, but for fear of losing my place in Whataburger's neverending order mill.

Even though I attempted to be the bigger, and rounder, man, the scrawny college student-type, with NO logos to mark his affiliation or interests on his shirt whatsoever, continued to insult me. He called out, like the damn sirens on the rocky shore, he HAD his cheeseburger, and it was DELICIOUS!

That was enough, I would have the satisfaction of silencing his boasts there in the Whataburger. I advanced - but he sprung from his seat with the agility of a puma or a hot stripper. Time seemed to slow, seconds into minutes, as he lowered his head and arms to tackle me at the waist. I attempted to evade, but in clear violation of UFC rules, he grabbed the material of my shorts and used them as a lariat, to drag me to the ground. I recovered into a Reverse Ground-and-Pound position and readjusted my fight shorts - I didn't need any ladies getting a free show!

The neckbeard attempted to hold me in a headlock, possibly in order to wave his ill-gotten cheeseburger over my head like a schoolyard bully. I powered out of his attack and took his back. He attempted to throw me off, like a mechanical bull trying to shed itself of one too many fat drunk girls, but I went into an aerodynamic tuck and used my face to cushion my fall.

I could tell at this point that he wanted to escape, possibly to run back and defend his cheeseburger from the other hungry customers. I held him tight, wrapping both his hands around my wrist in the Americana Bait position, and was preparing for the kill shot when someone intervened, trying to deny my victory. I established wrist control and went for submission by hammerfists to the biceps, elite tech! He was flustered, exhausted, despite his obvious efforts to condition for street combat by masturbating on the internet twice daily. It was time to unleash my limit break. I reached back in time to learn the secret language of Shaolin warrior monk identical twins that were raised by watching Nell through a hole in a cardboard box, and uttered the secret phrase.

here we go - 360 degree wall walk on the Whataburger service counters!

The beat down was so complete that a white rapper was forced to censor out the remainder of any video evidence, paying off every witness and burning down the Whataburger, because he had made an oath long ago that he would Never Reveal the Wu Tang Secret.

After the battle, my sensei at the Gold's Gym squat rack sewed two more battle stripes on my no-gi singlet, making me a probationary drink run master and Team Garcia pre-gatekeeper (we do the gatekeeping screening prior to offical team gatekeeping rolls). And that's when I knew - that I was a big fucking deal.

Impressive!

 

[OhNoZ]

lol satanobot, liked the video but your tale of the tale is even better.

for me it was when i had the oppurtunity to train with a big name in the local circuit for free. he posted up on the forums about coming out and training for free and i couldnt resist. I almost pussied out the last second but i told myself at least i get to meet him. once i got there and was manhandled i nearly shat myself to how awesome this guy is. thats when i knew it was for me. he took me under his wing for a year and taught me as much as he could in that time.

I felt confident in my abilities when he moved and forced me to join a gym. My first day was awesome, people looked at me like "oh boy another new guy" then i rolled with them and felt great; out positioning and tapping most of them. after that it was downhill because they found out i know some stuff and actually tried, but it still felt great.

 

[The K1000]

I walked into the gym rolled with a black belt and thought "This is something I want to master".

 

[Uchi Mata]

I started in Judo and only came to BJJ after I knew I loved grappling already, but I knew Judo was for me when I first got to play randori. Prior to that I had only done TMAs, and free sparring was pretty much the best thing ever. I never looked back (or spent much more time learning Hapkido).

 

[The Coolman]

in my second class, I got tapped out pretty much every which way by a purple belt who weighed 55 pounds less than me, I was amazed at how refined technique and skill can so easily overcome the strength and weight advantage that I had....that's when I decided to keep going with it because it's my lifelong dream to master at least one martial art to the best of my ability and what better martial art to pursue than one where a smaller person can destroy a larger person? fascinating stuff

 

[shouldercharge]

Took 4.5 years to get brown. But I train a lot, and have approached it with a lot of purpose. I usually do at least 4 or 5 days a week, but for a long time I did 5 or 6 days a week consistently. I also know how to "train" myself, from previous involvement in another sport (meaning, I know how to learn, recover, etc). I don't spend much time in class anymore, and I don't drill techniques at all. I guess I focus on principles, rather than learning a "technique." I train by rolling, and picking up new things, small things, here or there, and I spend a lot of time thinking about technique.

I don't reallt do anything outside of train, except yoga.

impressive and inspirational! where do you train?and how many hours on average would you spend on the mat a week?

 

[irc]

impressive and inspirational! where do you train?and how many hours on average would you spend on the mat a week?

I train at Easton BJJ in Colorado, which is a Renzo affiliate. We have 3 schools all pretty close to me, so I try to mix it up a lot. I usually do 60-90 minutes at a time. If its organized randori (which is the best way to use mat time, in my opinion), its usually a solid 60 minutes without breaks, like up-down-out or 5-10 minute rounds. Ill do that 2, maybe 3 times a week, and do another 2 or 3 days where it is a little lighter, or shorter, like disorganized random rolling after a class (the class I usually tend to skip, except maybe once a week).

I would not necessarily recommend this approach until someone is a around purple belt level. There is a lot to be said for the traditional in-class technique instruction, and drilling, so I'm not down-playing the importance of those things. But for me - I learn the most and progress most effectively by rolling.

 

[Amiro]

It was a balmy march night in my hometown of Houston. I had originally planned to dress up for going out, but it was too warm, so I changed out my Ed Hardy jeans for a pair of basketball shorts (Celtics green, natch). It was still too warm, so I slipped out of my drawers and told the boys here we go!, swinging-free, out to the clubs.

After getting my thing going on with like, six gals, who were killer hot, I needed to fuel the beast. So I pressed out the sex wrinkles in my Lamborghini Yellow Tapout original (website direct, yo!) and hit up Whataburger to pound my grill.

You would not believe the shit that went down in that place next.

I placed my order, using the helpful number code for optimal combination of food and beverage, and addressed the server by her appropriate title ("Number two, ho!"). I waited for at least three minutes with my crew - Brother Cowboy Jeans and the Laughin' Mexicans - and they still didn't have my order together? That did it. I reached down into my soul, and used my emotional surfboard to ride the fury back out. I wanted my cheeseburger, and I wanted it now!

The lowbrow grill scrapers behind the counter could never understand the predicament of a club-crashing, ufc-training hard ass like myself. I needed nourishment, and could not be expected to wait in line with the purple drank belching yahoos that were clearly not on an itinerary for more deep squish up in the VIP sections of Houston's finest drinking establishments.

I repeated my call for satisfaction, when a scraggly, neckbeared jaw jacker from the cheap seats interrupted. He already had his cheeseburger, he made clear, with the sing song taunt of a nightingale haunting the windowsills of a hospice for orphans. Whatever bribes or sneaktheivery he had employed to bypass the queue, I did not know or care to employ, and I let him know without any hesitation, that he could eat his cheeseburger in piece, or take satisfaction in the parking lot. I would beat his ass, in that parking lot, but for fear of losing my place in Whataburger's neverending order mill.

Even though I attempted to be the bigger, and rounder, man, the scrawny college student-type, with NO logos to mark his affiliation or interests on his shirt whatsoever, continued to insult me. He called out, like the damn sirens on the rocky shore, he HAD his cheeseburger, and it was DELICIOUS!

That was enough, I would have the satisfaction of silencing his boasts there in the Whataburger. I advanced - but he sprung from his seat with the agility of a puma or a hot stripper. Time seemed to slow, seconds into minutes, as he lowered his head and arms to tackle me at the waist. I attempted to evade, but in clear violation of UFC rules, he grabbed the material of my shorts and used them as a lariat, to drag me to the ground. I recovered into a Reverse Ground-and-Pound position and readjusted my fight shorts - I didn't need any ladies getting a free show!

The neckbeard attempted to hold me in a headlock, possibly in order to wave his ill-gotten cheeseburger over my head like a schoolyard bully. I powered out of his attack and took his back. He attempted to throw me off, like a mechanical bull trying to shed itself of one too many fat drunk girls, but I went into an aerodynamic tuck and used my face to cushion my fall.

I could tell at this point that he wanted to escape, possibly to run back and defend his cheeseburger from the other hungry customers. I held him tight, wrapping both his hands around my wrist in the Americana Bait position, and was preparing for the kill shot when someone intervened, trying to deny my victory. I established wrist control and went for submission by hammerfists to the biceps, elite tech! He was flustered, exhausted, despite his obvious efforts to condition for street combat by masturbating on the internet twice daily. It was time to unleash my limit break. I reached back in time to learn the secret language of Shaolin warrior monk identical twins that were raised by watching Nell through a hole in a cardboard box, and uttered the secret phrase.

here we go - 360 degree wall walk on the Whataburger service counters!

The beat down was so complete that a white rapper was forced to censor out the remainder of any video evidence, paying off every witness and burning down the Whataburger, because he had made an oath long ago that he would Never Reveal the Wu Tang Secret.

After the battle, my sensei at the Gold's Gym squat rack sewed two more battle stripes on my no-gi singlet, making me a probationary drink run master and Team Garcia pre-gatekeeper (we do the gatekeeping screening prior to offical team gatekeeping rolls). And that's when I knew - that I was a big fucking deal.

the end killed it screenings lol

 

[DeadAim713]

When I rolled with my first BB instructor, Daniel Wanderley. He told me to go as hard as I could 2 months into training. He let me pass to half guard, went deep half, took my back, and armbarred me. I knew how technical BJJ was, but I had never felt it until that point and I was hooked. I knew I had to be that good one day...

 

[shouldercharge]

I train at Easton BJJ in Colorado, which is a Renzo affiliate. We have 3 schools all pretty close to me, so I try to mix it up a lot. I usually do 60-90 minutes at a time. If its organized randori (which is the best way to use mat time, in my opinion), its usually a solid 60 minutes without breaks, like up-down-out or 5-10 minute rounds. Ill do that 2, maybe 3 times a week, and do another 2 or 3 days where it is a little lighter, or shorter, like disorganized random rolling after a class (the class I usually tend to skip, except maybe once a week).

I would not necessarily recommend this approach until someone is a around purple belt level. There is a lot to be said for the traditional in-class technique instruction, and drilling, so I'm not down-playing the importance of those things. But for me - I learn the most and progress most effectively by rolling.

so 60-90min 4-6 times a week,no 2 a days? that makes your progress all the more impressive,congratulations!
what have your tournament results been like?also how long did it take you to blue and then purple?
Posted via Mobile Device

 

[Bullheaded]

I think it didn't "struck" me. I think I enjoyed it so much from day one, that I just felt crazy about it ever since. I remember pretty well drilling kimuras and feeling extatic about the fact that I'd train a sub straight away and applying it on a judo BB who seemed soooo bored. ^^ I remember the guys I rolled with that night, and so on and so forth.

It was such a crazy experience for me (and still is! I think I repeated on and on on this forum the part when I got slammed a couple of times). I enjoyed it immensely. I still feel that excitement whenever I land a sub, whenever I switch to a different gym for the sake of trying, etc...

I can't say the same thing of judo unfortunatly... I'm still wondering if I'm not wasting my time with it to a certain extent.

 

[davesaintpierre]

when i learnt how to break a man's arm in my first lesson, that was when I knew.

 

[bagelgod]

I repeated my call for satisfaction, when a scraggly, neckbeared jaw jacker from the cheap seats interrupted. He already had his cheeseburger, he made clear, with the sing song taunt of a nightingale haunting the windowsills of a hospice for orphans. Whatever bribes or sneaktheivery he had employed to bypass the queue, I did not know or care to employ, and I let him know without any hesitation, that he could eat his cheeseburger in piece, or take satisfaction in the parking lot. I would beat his ass, in that parking lot, but for fear of losing my place in Whataburger's neverending order mill.

This paragraph is probably the funniest thing I've ever read on sherdog.

 

[joe broadway]

Day 1 just like so many others. I had spent some time boxing and "training ufc" before bjj, and being a very solid 200lber, my instructor thought he should see what I know in case I started tearing guys heads off. So all 5'7" 150lbs of him completely pwns me, I always tell people is was a very humbling and helpless feeling- like jumping out of an airplane without a parashoot (sp?). All I needed was to know how weak I was and how strong I could be.

 

[gdoh]

after going to a couple classes i was able to hang with a guy who always destroyed me