Taken at the fencing quals on Saturday:

I will not be going to the Summer Nationals in either the individual or team events. I'm furious at myself for permitting weapon problems to distract me; and I'm even more furious at myself for allowing a small deficit to drive me into aggressive, unthinking bouting.

I fenced fine in the pools, seeding out at 15 of 32 fencers. But in my first elimination bout I had two weapons fail (one of which I had tested earlier that day before putting away for later use) before I even started (which led to the loss of a point); I also went through two replacement weapons that I had to scrounge, and these two failed because of what turned out to be a weird combination of compressed pins on a body cord after using it in a new weapon, and old, loose plugs on older weapons. So, on my 5th weapon of the bout, and down 8-6 (one point of which was the red card for the two faulty weapons earlier) I started fencing too fast and loose and pissed off, and I lost that bout 15-8. Argh, argh, argh, ack, alackaday, and curses.

Team "Athos, Porthos, and Mentos the Freshmaker" (thanks ronebofh ) was also knocked out in the first round; but that wasn't my fault as much, and I did have a bad weapon on the last point, but we were already down 40-34 goint into that bout. At one point we were ahead 21-19; I was the anchor on the team so I had to try to make up those 6 points in the last period, as well as score an additional one. But once again, frustrated, I fenced poorly and let my opponent get 5 straight touches. I had done very well against my previous two opponents, and I thought we were going to take the match, but we lost a ton of ground in the middle and I couldn't focus enough to make it up. Garh.

So, disappointed. But I did see some great fencing, even if I didn't do any of it. My legs are more tired from fencing sporadically for 4 hours than they are after fencing for 2 1/2 hours straight. I think it's all the standing around getting cold.

If the title alone doesn't get you excited to watch the video, then perhaps I can sweeten the deal. If you watch the video, then the next time I see you I will buy you candy. You can choose the type; but I get to choose the quantity (I'm not buying a half-ton of Jolly Ranchers, you greedy wankers).

Lance Armstrong.

It'll make sense later.

http://www.c3presents.com/Video/sultan_preview.mov

The Division I Nationals in fencing are in Portland this year. I won't be going. I still have no rating, and I doubt I'm good enough to even scrape in. Plus, Portland is a little far to go; I'd probably feel differently if I had qualified.

However, I do have a chance to go to the Div II/Div III Summer Nationals in San Jose (right down the road). The quals for senior epee (C and Lower) are on March 1st; the quals for the team are also on March 1st, in the afternoon. I might even have a shot at this; it would be fun to go to a big tournament, even if it is only Div II or Div III.

What I need is a team name for my little squad that is going to be fencing in the afternoon. There are three of us, and so far all we've come up with is "Two Kids and a Goat", "Oh my god, they killed Kenny" (one of us is a Kenny), and "The Ambiguously Gay Trio".

Ideas?

I finally fenced in a tournament today. The San Francisco-Oakland-Silicon Valley area (the Bay) has an over-arching fencing league called The Bay Cup. There are six events every season, and the points leader at the end of the year gets a pony or something.

I don't know what we get, really. A trophy? Five bucks?

I didn't fence in the first event of the season, but several members of my club did, and they placed somewhere in the middle. Oh, I'm just talking about D and lower rated fencers here; The Bay Cup has events for A's, C's and higher, and D's and lower (I think that's how it breaks down). I've never fenced in a tournament here before, and only one ever, so I am an unrated (read: lower than D) fencer, so I fenced in the D and lower mixed epee event today. I was not fencing superb fencers, but some were way better than others.

I did ok in the pools, but lost one bout 5-0 (to the guy who won the first event, back in September), so I ended up seeded 22 out of 32 going into the elimination rounds.

My friend Andrew and I fence at club twice a week. He takes a half hour lesson before joining us for open fencing, and he's been doing that for as long as I've known him (about a year and a half now). In all that time we've been on fairly equal footing; he takes lessons consistently, but I've been fencing longer, if more sporadically, so I have better instincts if not better form. Our bouts almost always end 15-14; it's anybody's guess who is going to get the last point. Lately, and consistenly, it's been him.

Andrew did better than I did in his pool, and he was seeded 11th overall going into single elimination. In a field of 32, that meant he and I were going to fence in the first elimination round. Crap. I didn't want to either (1) lose to Andrew in the first round and get knocked out early, which was a 50-50 possibility, or (2) knock out Andrew in the very first round and reduce the number of Cardinal fencers advancing (there were only 3 of us to start with). But, that's how the cookie crumbles.

Of course Andrew and I fenced to 14-14. A bigger point differential would at least have taken some of the pressure off, and some of the gut-wrenching disappointment I would feel at being knocked out in the first round. I could lose 15-12 and not feel like I had success wrenched from me; I could win 15-12 and not feel too badly about knocking Andrew out early.

I saw an opening, and with a quick feint toward his left side I drew his arm across his body to parry, then disengaged around his bell to continue toward his now-exposed right side. He was ready for this, as I knew he would be, and he quickly retreated and returned his guard to his right side to nudge my point out of line and increase the distance between us to prepare his own attack. But I was ready; I had already done a forward recovery to keep the distance between us close, instead of recovering back and beginning the action all over again. I accompanied this forward recovery with my final surprise: I unleashed the speedy, straight lunge to the heart, expecting his parry again so I could disengage again. If he fell for it, instead of going for his right side as I had on the initial attack, I would drop my point low and aim for his upper thigh as his blade passed harmlessly over mine as he returned to his guard position on his retreat.

That was the plan. But, dammit. My speedy lunge to his heart was instead a slow indicative gesture toward his left arm; his predicted parry fulfilled my expectations and came across his body, but he was faster than I was. Instead of deftly avoiding his blade, my blade was caught up by his and guided safely out of the way. As I felt him catch my blade I knew I was out of tricks; I was extended, in closer than was smart, and my point was nowhere near its target anymore because he had deflected my point right and then down, away from his chest.

I was already looking over at Emily and Erin when the buzzer sounded and I felt his point depress against my chest after his riposte. They had been cheering for me throughout the pools, and had been on the edge of their seats during this bout with Andrew; well, Emily was on the edge of her seat: Erin was on the edge of Emily's knee, bouncing up a down and smiling.

She had seen something I hadn't.

The buzzer went off because I had won.

Andrew had deflected my point right and down, away from his chest, and toward his thigh . I had tried to disengage down and away, cleanly, so I could hit his thigh. He had caught my blade, and because he was so much faster than I was in this engagement he had time to parry my blade and also push it down. But that's where I was going anyway, so I wasn't fighting him and ended up naturally continuing the motion after he had started to riposte against me. His mal parry, coupled with his bad riposte (he started moving his right leg forward, and toward my point before his point was on line again and extended) had him skewering his own thigh with my point.

It was a comedy of errors. But I accepted the victory with class: "You were doomed from the start. I'm just too fast." He's going to kill me at club on Tuesday.

In the next round I had a lefty opponent, and although I had weapon problems that cost me a point before the bout had even started I ought to have won. I had no patience, I was tired and hungry and the adrenaline was giving me the shakes a bit. We also ended up 14-14, but this time I did not get a lucky bounce.

Andrew is a little disappointed in me too, now. He would have won that bout, he thinks.

Anyway, I made the sweet 16 out of 32. That means I placed somewhere between 8th and 16th out of 32 fencers. I am mediocre, but on the good side of mediocre.

Hooray.

In an effort to improve during club hours, since I can't get myself to do any work outside of club and class, I'm doing two squats every time I get hit cleanly. I'm fencing epee, so there are also doubles, and for those I do one squat.

I did a lot of squats tonight.

And the more squats I did, the more tired I got, so the slower I got, and the easier it was to hit me...and so I did more squats. Except toward the end when I finally started fencing smart and using decent defense to keep the bastards off of me until I could get a touch on the arm or something instead of attacking with a pitiful lunge and getting hit....and doing squats.

I don't like squats...but they're good for me.

Tomorrow morning is sabre class...luckily I'm one of the more experienced fencers overall in that class, even if I've never really done sabre, so I don't foresee as many squats as I had to do tonight against the Stanford Varsity bastards and the local epee bravos...tall, lanky jerks with perfect timing and flawless aim.

I'm going to be sore tomorrow.