the fighting

This blog post comes to you with images compliments of Caroline Walsh, our very favourite IMCF photographer and all round lovely Irishwoman.

Every time I go to a tournament overseas, I am humbled by the company in which I find myself. Being in this sport of medieval combat, I have developed an appreciation for the state of existence that is being an athlete. It is not something that you can do once, or for a period of time. It is a way of living and working towards an almost ethereal goal. I understand this through experience. So at tournaments, when I meet those athletes who have inspired me to bet better, do more, push harder, aim higher, I am once again reminded that it is possible; the goal, however ethereal, can be reached, for a time at least.

The standard of fighting this year was better than before, and I was impressed that everyone from last year seemed to have upped the ante.

My fighting friends gave a good account of themselves, although some unexpectedly did not win, and others did even better than they expected to.

I'm not sure if that is a reflection of the calls made by the marshalls, or the relative levels of fitness and skill of the fighters. I know that Battle of the Nations was the weekend before, and the fighting was apparently quite intense, and this could also have had a bearing on the performance of some.

Whatever the circumstances leading to the results, there was fighting. It was good quality sport. And once again, having watched a lot of it, seen the upsets and noticed the appeals and results, what made me proud to be a part of the sport was that all the combatants still accepted the marshalls' decisions as final, and showed good sportsmanship, which is not easy to do if you believe the decision was unfair. There were a few instances of this, and I am not mentioning it as a criticism of the marshalling, but as a testament to the sportsmanship of those involved.

This year, my friend and fighting inspiration, Laurent, won the Fair Play award. He was surprised. No-one else was.

But I want to talk about our buhurt teams because that made me particularly happy.

Firstly, thanks, Florian.

Our women's team, with four members, performed well together. Each of us brought our unique superpower to the lists and used it to the best of our abilities. Or skill levels. Which is all you can ever ask of a team.

It was a happy coincidence, though, that our best was good enough to beat the French and the Australian teams, who have roughly the same level of experience as us. In our pool, however, we also had the two big fish: Quebec and Ukraine. They, being the experienced and well-disciplined teams that they are, made short work of us, and we were left on our backs in the lists wondering what the hell just happened.

I guess that is as it should be. For now.

Our very young and inexperienced team beat the people we could have beaten, and this is said with all respect to the French and Auzzie women, because it was still some damn fine fighting and good fun.

We lost to our betters. Quebec and Ukraine took gold and silver, respectively, with Finland taking bronze.

And so we use our experience of fighting them to inspire us to train harder, do better. "Git gud" as they say. That is the impermanence of being an athlete - there is always more work to be done, and further goals to improve towards.

Next year?  Who knows. We might even bring home some loot if we work hard enough. Nothing is impossible, and I believe that our team can do it.

Our mens 5s team debuted this year at IMCF. Josh arrived an hour before the matches started. It was nail-biting. But they went on with five fighters.

I don't want to say that our 5s team crushed the Scots and the Irish. That's because I have many friends on both of those teams and I know how hard they work at this sport. They are also good fighters with massive hearts. The thing is, though, we grow them big and very strong in our land. Maybe it's all the sunshine.
Whatever the case, there was fighting. Our guys won those matches and then faced the Polish 5s. This is a team of experienced and well-trained fighters, usually in the medals for a first or second. And for a few moments, our guys had the Polish a bit concerned. They had the win in two rounds, but both rounds ended in a one-on-one.

Sometimes it's not the victory that is satisfying. Sometimes, it can just be how hard you make your opponent work to gain the win.

Our guys made it to the eliminations, and were then denied further progress by the French, who I believe also took silver in that category.

For a debut tournament, I'd like to think that our guys turned some heads. Next year will be interesting. That is a certainty.

In terms of individual categories, only Hylton and I had actually competed internationally before. Both of us made it out of our pools in sword and shield but were denied further progress at eliminations, unfortunately. Still, a good effort given the standard of fighting, and nothing, I believe, to be embarrassed about.

In longsword, I progressed to the match for bronze, but lost it to Bene from Quebec. She is an experienced fighter and a well-trained, disciplined athlete, and I felt no shame in losing to her. I do feel more driven than ever to get better, train harder, fight faster. Maybe next year, I can do better.

Our new fighters also did as well as they could.

Although KC chose to put the team first and withdraw from the polearm category (there was some trouble with her helm coming off), she showed some real promise in the match that she did fight against Denmark. I am very excited to see how she does in future tournaments, if she decides to focus on polearm duels.

Anton was also in the polearm duels. He took a pounding from guys a lot bigger than he. But he is tough as nails, and gave a good opposition each time. I was told that he really did fight like his namesake, the badger.

Julian fought in the longsword in Josh's place, and I would not have chosen anyone else for the job. He is a tough, fit competitor and he also made it out of his pool, after which, he met the Lithuanian who took gold and was eliminated. Again, no shame in that defeat. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to see the fighting live.

I think that in terms of overall individual and team performance, we have definitely improved on last year in every respect. Now, all we have to do is fight more, train harder, be better. Git gud.

It's an ethereal promise of a goal that is never fully or permanently attainable. Like a commitment to integrity, you can't just do it once and then it's done. It is the work of a lifetime, to be an athlete. That win is there, if you dedicate yourself to it each morning. And the win is not necessarily in the medal or the marshall's decision; it is also in being better every time, achieving things you weren't sure you could.

And so when I meet fighters who I consider to be my mentors and inspiration, I may seem to be a bit of a fan girl, but really, I'm realising again that this person is a living embodiment of the dedication it takes to meet the requirements of the sport. That is important to me because they show me that it is possible. And to be a part of it all at this level is a humbling experience for which I am grateful.

keep your head down and keep training

Socially, I've always been awkward. As the years have progressed, I've picked up a couple of tricks to help me get through most social encounters. Smile. Listen. Be interested. Keep smiling. Make eye contact. That's the hardest one. It's so incredibly personal to look directly into someone's eyes. You could get lost in their thoughts and their past and never find your way out.

Scary!

When I am speaking to someone I admire, my eyes sometimes feel like they're going to cross because one part of me wants to make eye contact, create that bond, that friendship, and another part of me is hesitant to go there and discover that there is no bond or friendship, no connection or kindred spirit. Just another dick.

So I rarely actually speak to people at all unless I'm drunk or similarly intoxicated by adrenaline. I think many of my fighting friends that I meet at IMCF must now think of me as that creepy chick who smiles a lot and gushes about fighting. But I want to talk about things that are significant and meaningful. When I realise that what I have to say isn't significant or meaningful or indeed worthy, I just tend to smile or give compliments. So, yes. Me. Awkward as fuck. Who would have guessed it, me being a lecturer.

When it comes to getting along with people, every one of my SA team mates, with the obvious exception of Josh, will say that I am difficult. I have noticed it myself that if I have to deal with an authority figure, that figure had better stand up to some intense scrutiny or there will be no deal.
Unfortunately, everyone is human, so most days, there is very little in the way of dealing happening as far as I'm concerned. This has been a source of much consternation in the past, and always the politics will result.

Me using KCs helm for longsword. You can see KC (left) and Bron (right) just behind me. Thanks, Caroline Walsh for the photo - you are an artist.

I think that the more I attend tournaments, the more I understand the dynamics of myself. On the surface, there's the camaraderie and the smiles and the brotherhood that is our sport, and that is all genuine. But underneath, there is a questioning or a judgement on every call of a marshall, of every decision of a winner, of the progression or denial of every appeal, the pools, the times, the counters and whether there is a conflict.

The authority must successfully face some heavy scrutiny and come out of it mostly unscathed for the fighters to accept the results.

There will also always be an element of complete fair play and contentment; gratitude simply for the chance to fight, and that is what makes it better for everyone else, too.

In my case, the person who brings out that element in me is Josh. He is not about asserting authority over me, or being the person I want to be worthy of having a conversation with. He transcends all of that and is, just the other part of me. The part that is free to just enjoy the chance to fight.

The point that I think I'm working towards is this: no-one really knows what is going on inside or underneath (well, now I guess more people do in one respect), but you can bet it's not what you imagine it to be. So ignore all of the inevitable awkwardness, the politics and the shit-talkers, and all of the people who don't understand, and just focus on that part that is pure: the love of fighting.

Whatever happens, keep your head down and keep training and things will be fine.

This is what I tell my team, and now it has become clearer to me in a much larger context, but on a more personal level as well.

If I wanted to be flippant, I could end off with a remark about how this sport is cheaper than therapy, but it really isn't. It is, however, so much more satisfying.