Something’s happening in jiu-jitsu. A few years ago, you’d see highly specialized lapel guard players dominating the sport. And yes, those athletes are still around for sure. It’s not like we’ve teleported back to the seventies when a Gracie ran every academy, and bellows of “position over submission” were heard on repeat (that is still good advice, though).
One of the best aspects of jiu-jitsu is the crossroads of cultures you’ll find any given day on the mats. Indeed, memes are often thrown around social media joking about how jiu-jitsu is one of the few activities that both police officers and cannabis enthusiasts can mutually enjoy. But, without one party being suspicious of the other, a true intersection of just about any subculture you can think of, as well as some you probably can’t, can exist in harmony. However, while jiu-jitsu might unite the various subcultures of society, there’s one thing that divides them, and that’s their choice of music.
Seminars in jiu-jitsu are the ultimate meeting of the minds– events where teacher and student alike can congregate and learn from some of the sport’s greatest luminaries. These events are great for expanding your game, getting different perspectives that maybe your gym’s coach doesn’t have, and realizing just how far the sport can take you if you really choose to dedicate yourself to it.
And I haven’t been to one since I was a blue belt.
But this post isn’t meant to make you feel wrong about going to seminars, or, if you’re someone who makes a living off jiu-jitsu, to get you not to do them. They can have lots of benefits, to the person teaching and all the people who attend.
That said, if you are going to go to one, you should probably know what you’re getting yourself into. If you have a reliable drilling partner that will practice the techniques with you after the seminar has concluded, and not just once but for an extended period, you should be in a better spot than most attending.
Often joked about in the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu community is the blue belt that disappears from the gym– and the sport—forever immediately after receiving their belt. Indeed, it truly is the underachiever’s black belt. It distinguishes you from the very bottom of the hierarchy– and that’s enough for some.
When you first get into jiu-jitsu, they tell you a few things up front. First, there are no egos, and second, everyone is all about respect. We all follow the bushido code and hold ourselves to a moral standard not seen in other subcultures.
But, a few years in and you start to see that this isn’t 100% accurate. Jiu-jitsu, like any other sport, is ego-driven. And why wouldn’t it be?
A lesser spoken credo in the jiu-jitsu community is, “There’s no more dangerous roll than with a white belt.” Indeed, white belts are the gym’s freshmen– the grappling initiates who carry themselves with a sense of meekness during drilling but aimlessness during rolling.
You see the credo “BJJ vs. The World” on several articles of clothing. It tells the casual onlooker that jiu-jitsu is a united front– one where all of its practitioners exist in harmony, ready to lash out at anyone that questions the art’s merits. But, after your third class, you’ll find that this is, at best, a facade. Indeed, while everyone in jiu-jitsu agrees that the art is great, there are many bitter disagreements over BJJ’s path. The lack of a consensus ruleset chief among them.
On one end, you’ll find the point argument, which tries to give credence to positions– creating a hierarchy of them and assigning points based on how far the competitor can advance. Of course, the submission takes precedence over everything. You could be down twenty points, but if you land a submission, you win the match.
Then there’s the sub-only argument– one that, more or less, does away with the points philosophy and puts sole emphasis on if one participant of the match taps. It’s a ruleset that tries to reward fighting for a submission and to discourage simply holding on until time expires once you’ve accrued enough points to secure a win. After all, jiu-jitsu is the art of submitting your opponent with a choke or joint lock.
People look at the fight between Royce Gracie and Dan Severn as inspiration for this ruleset. It was a twenty-plus minute affair where the physically superior Severn was dominating Royce. Any casual onlooker would think that Severn won. And under modern MMA rulesets, he probably would have. But we don’t see many 20 plus minute rounds in any popular MMA promotions– least of all the UFC.
But this was the old days– the bygone age of the nineties; Royce locked a triangle on Severn, who tapped soon after. This gave Royce the win, and it undoubtedly captured the imagination of martial artists the world over about the possibilities of jiu-jitsu.
I just feel that many sub-only rulesets are an overcorrection to points tournaments. This isn’t to say that hybrid rulesets exist that capture the best of both worlds. They do, and they’re among the most popular promotions in jiu-jitsu. But there are other sub-only tournaments I see that exacerbate the problems they try to fix.
You hear it a lot. Spectators hate it when a competitor sweeps or takes their opponent down, passes their guard, and then just holds until the conclusion of the match. It’s always more exciting when a submission happens, as it puts the total capacity of jiu-jitsu on display. I agree with that, but there is an issue that sub-only rulesets present.
While stalling in points tournaments can create an incentive for those ahead to secure a path to victory, it can do the same in sub-only tournaments for not losing.
I’ve been to countless tournaments with differing rulesets, and the most boring thing to watch is someone mounted in a sub-only match and not moving, waiting for time to expire, so they can secure the tie match. A tie isn’t exciting; it’s less exciting for the spectators than if one person wins and another loses. The only person this tactic incentivizes is the one that would be losing on points if the ruleset was different.
Also, you see confusion among people who aren’t too familiar with jiu-jitsu watching the match; they see someone being smothered for 15 minutes, only for the match to be declared a draw. Why didn’t the person who was clearly more dominant win? I’ve often heard these questions asked by non-practitioners at various combat sports events, and creating confusion just isn’t the best way to promote an art that is trying to find ways to be more spectator friendly.
Sub-only rulesets can be counter-intuitive– mostly because I often see fewer submissions in them. This builds off my issue with stalling in the previous section. In points tournaments, when you’re losing, you need to move, make something happen, and try to go for a submission. This opens you up to get submitted, and it captures those great moments in jiu-jitsu everyone loves to see.
Either way, the person behind in points will lose, but there is a pathway to win via submission, and if he doesn’t get it, he’ll lose. Clearly, the possibility of losing creates an incentive to move and make something happen. The chance of not winning, though, promotes what I outlined previously– stalling in a bad position and waiting for time to expire, at which the match would be declared a draw, or overtimes would start.
While points tournaments do have issues, and some sub-only rule sets try to do away with dubious things like advantages, it’s an overcorrection that makes many of the problems in points tournaments worse.
What To Do About It?
Luckily, these issues are starting to be addressed. We’re seeing new rulesets coming out with different promotions, and they combine the best of both worlds– encouraging a submission while still having judges decide a winner if needed.
In the meantime, an open dialogue would help create the best possible rulesets. Let’s get the top jiu-jitsu fighters from the IBJJF, sub only, and others to discuss what could make the best viable product for spectators. In recent years, there’s been a push to try and make jiu-jitsu more spectator-friendly, and this could be the best way to do so.
One of the most memed and lampooned habits of jiu-jitsu is the guard pull. It’s earned the scorn of grappling elitists everywhere who claim their less popular non-striking martial art is superior– looking at you wrestlers. But the group that seems to make fun of guard-pulling the most are jujitseros themselves.
You hear a lot of platitudes thrown around about jiu-jitsu these days– that it will save, or at the very least, change your life. However, some things reach the cliche status due to their truthfulness; the aforementioned is no exception. If you embrace the jiu-jitsu lifestyle to its fullest extent– training even when your body is ready to fall apart, competing, traveling, etc.– your life will change dramatically.
Despite some of Jiu-Jitsu’s most prominent names today being super or ultra-heavyweights, the ground-based martial art that we all love is still widely regarded as a small person’s one. To give that argument some validity, Helio Gracie was not a man of impressive stature– nor were many of its early figureheads. Even the legendary Rickson Gracie looks relatively average in size next to some of the sport’s newer stars like Buchecha, Leandro Lo, Andre Galvao, and many others. But, regardless, there still can be a taboo against heavyweights on the mats.