New Year's Epee

I decided to start the new year right, by reminding myself how much I suck at fencing epee.  Yesterday morning, having not picked up an epee in six weeks, I went up to Portland for a tournament at Northwest Fencing Center.    This tournament was held at the culmination of a week-long training camp, so not only am I bad at epee, but it insured that most of the participants had been practicing intensely, and would be in good form.

I started off the day in a tremendous amount of pain.  That was my own fault.  Saturday morning, my first full day back in Eugene, I was feeling particularly fat and out of shape.  I wanted to do a long, slow, bike ride to start burning away the fat.  I woke up early and was out the door slightly after 8.  About 10 minutes out, I felt my rear wheel slipping a bit under me.  Shortly after that, I noticed that the roads were all covered with ice, and it was actually a miracle I hadn't crashed yet.  I made it home very carefully, and very slowly.  It was clearly not the time to go for a ride, but I wasn't about to get skinnier sitting at home playing video games, so I decided to put my bike on the trainer and continue riding.  After about an hour, I was bored out of my mind, and looking to see if it had warmed up enough to ride outside.  Things still didn't look safe, but I couldn't stand any more trainer riding, so I went for a run for an hour.  After I finished the run, I worked up the courage to hop back on my trainer for another hour.

The whole workout was great for my fat-burning, but left my legs destroyed.  My only hope was that my fencing would be so bad that the pain in my legs wouldn't be what causes me to lose.

The competition got off to a good start when the kid I was fencing in my first pool bout showed up to the strip with two broken weapons.  1-0, Dan.  Then we started fencing.  Well, he started fencing, and I started standing there with an epee in my hand.  I lost.  Lost my next bout to a slightly older, slightly better kid with two functioning weapons.  Both could have been winnable bouts.  My next bout wasn't going to be, as I went up against current US #3 and former Olympian, Cody Mattern.  He won 5-0.

At this point I had visions of finishing my pool 0-5, losing my first DE, and going home in last place.  As bad as I am, that would still be a really bad result for me.  If that was going to be the case, I should at least try to improve my fencing in the process.  For my next bout, my only objective was to make sure I kept my tip on target.  I was fortunate enough to go up against a fencer who fleched himself onto it 5 time (3 of them doubles), and I got myself a win.  WOO!  My next bout was against a female A who didn't move very well (was that redundant?).  Based on my track record of failure, I think she assumed she was going to win.  For reasons unbeknownst to me, and which certainly must have caught her off guard, I decided to spend the entire bout going for hand touches.  I don't think I had even attempted a hand touch to this point, but after the first one worked, I realized she was incapable of attacking me, so as long as I kept my distance, I would get as many shots at the hand as I wanted.  Another win.

At 2-3, I was potentially seeded high enough to get a winnable DE.  I ended up getting a little kid, who was completely nonthreatening, but nonetheless seeded higher than me.  The bout was a lot closer than it should have been, but I won.  That win got me my real reward for the day, a trip to the top 32, and a bout against current US #1 (and two-time Olympian) Seth Kelsey.  Our pre-bout conversation went something like this:

Homer: You're Darryl Strawberry! 
Darryl Strawberry: Yes. 
Homer: You play right field. 
Darryl Strawberry: Yes. 
Homer: I play right field too. 
Darryl Strawberry: So? 
Homer: Well, are you better than me? 
Darryl Strawberry: Well, I've never met you, but... yes.

I wasn't expecting to win, but I was hoping it would be good practice.  At least he didn't know what to expect out of me.  The first touch of the bout was a beauty.  I worked the distance well, attacked at just the right moment to catch him flat footed, disengaged his parry and hit him square in the chest.  As I felt my blade bend on the impact, I looked in horror as my light didn't go off.  Then he hit me.  DAMN YOU, EPEE, AND YOUR INFERNAL TIPS!

The bout continued, with me picking up a double here or there.  Then, about halfway through, from the command of 'fence', Mr Kelsey does a hard attack.  I read his first step, and my saber instincts kick in for a beautiful "simultaneous" (read: double touch) action.  At this point I just start laughing.  I throw my hands up in the air, and excitedly shout, "hey, I can do this!"  I have no idea what could have possibly been going through his head at that moment, probably something along the lines of "why is this scrub so excited over a double touch when he's losing?"  But from my perspective, my odds of winning were negligible to start with, but certainly, so long as he was fencing "saber", my odds were as good as they were going to be.  The next touch, he tries the same thing again.  Excellent.  I'm in out, make him fall short, and hit him.  Alas, without right of way, it's still a double touch, but I'll keep doing that with him all day.  Sooner or later, the touches would be mine--certainly more than if he were fencing "epee" against me.

After that, he stopped fencing my game, and went on to win.  I got two one-light touches in the bout, and lost 7-15.  From my perspective, the day was a success.  I fenced well enough to make sure I was knocked out by someone a lot better than me, and I'm motivated to train harder in the coming year.