Rickson Gracie - Breathe: A Life in Flow

To Hlio and Rockson Gracie,

who changed my view of life

I WAS INTRODUCED TO JIU JITSU FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 1992 AS a young SEAL, fresh out of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training, serving in a platoon at SEAL Team One. During our morning muster, a salty old master chief stopped by to talk to us. He was older than anyone I knewalthough he was probably only a hair over fortyand years younger than I am today. But at the time, he seemed ancient.

Does anyone want to learn how to fight? he asked.

I wasnt expecting that at all, but I knew my answer immediately. Of course I do! I raised my hand along with a few other new guys.

While the SEAL teams now have programmatic combatives in the training pipeline, back in the early 1990s we learned next to nothingsome basic strikes, a hip throw or two, maybe a few self-defense moves against a highly telegraphed punch or kick. But it certainly didnt seem as if these choreographed moves would be effective in a real fight or combat situation.

All right then, you guys with your hands up, said the master chief, meet me at the Quonset hut by the gym at 1630.

Part of me thought, What can this old man know? I was young, strong, healthy, and highly motivated. He was just a lanky old man. I soon found out what he knew. He had a superpower. He knew Jiu Jitsu.

We showed up at the Quonset hut at the appointed time. Inside, there were mats on the ground. All right. Take off your shoes and line up over there, he said, pointing to the wall. We followed his directions, and already I could feel my confidence melting away. Take a seat. Now, one a time, attack me. When you have had enough, tap the mat or tap me three times. After saying that, he simply lay down on the floor. One of the guys stood up, walked over, and lunged at the master chief. Then, somehow, by some mysterious force, the young SEAL was reversed, the master chief had a hold on his neck, and the young SEAL tapped frantically. The master chief sprawled out on the ground again. Whos next?

I figured I would go. I stood up and walked over. I wouldnt make the mistake of my previous teammate, who rushed in. I would take my time, be smarter, more measured in my approach. The master chief did not seem concerned. After some grappling, I tried to grab his leg, and as soon as I did, he wrapped me up, twisted me around, isolated my arm, and straightened it out to the breaking point, at which time I tapped immediately.

This went on for almost an hour. Victim after victim, the master chief forced us to submit over and over again. Finally, when we were sweating, breathing hard, and too tired to keep trying, he looked at us and said, Welcome to Gracie Jiu Jitsu.

The master chief, a SEAL by the name of Steve Bailey, had been training with the Gracie family in their garage in Torrance, California, for a little over a year. And Im just a white belt, he had said. I didnt know much about martial arts, but I knew that a white belt was just a beginnerand he had mopped the floor with us. I couldnt fathom what a black belt would be able to do. I also knew something else: I needed to learn this thing called Jiu Jitsu.

A few months later, the first Ultimate Fighting Championship took place in Denver, Colorado. Some people were wondering who would win. But my small group of friends, who were beginning to understand the power of Jiu Jitsu, knew who would win: the skinny Brazilian guy with the last name Gracie. That skinny guy was Royce Gracie, the first Ultimate Fighting Champion.

That is how my journey in Jiu Jitsu began. I eventually started training in San Diego with a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu black-belt instructor named Fbio Santos. As I tried to understand the history and philosophies and the hierarchies of the Jiu Jitsu world, I heard one name that would come up over and over again. The champion of the Gracie family. The undefeated fighter. The pinnacle of technique. The undisputed master of all things Jiu Jitsu.

Rickson Gracie.

There were stories of Rickson fighting in the streets of Rio de Janeiro to defend the honor of the Gracie name. Tales of his competition glory. Legends of his prowess on the mats. An unstoppable force who psychologically defeats his opponents before the fight even starts. Simply put, Rickson Gracie was the supreme master of Jiu Jitsu.

Of course, I was intrigued and inspired to seek out this legend. And luckily for me, my Jiu Jitsu instructor knew Rickson. In fact, he had trained under Ricksons brother Rolls and eventually was awarded his black belt by Rickson himself. I was also lucky because I lived and trained in San Diego, and Ricksons academy was just a couple of hours north, in Los Angeles.

I got permission from the navy for some time to go and train, and so I rented a cheap hotel room and showed up for classes at Rickson Gracies studio on Pico Boulevard. At the time, Rickson was in the middle of his professional fighting career, so he did not teach the initial classes when I arrived. But his instructors had learned from the source, the master, and this was obvious from the detailed explanations and coaching they gave.

After four days of training, I showed up at the academy for another class, but something was different this time around. There had been ten to fifteen people in previous classes, but all of a sudden the studio was completely packed. I suspected what was happening, and my suspicions were confirmed when I heard chatter from the group: Rickson is teaching tonight.

We all put on our gis and got on the mats. We started warming up and making small talk in idle anticipation for class to begin. Then, it happened: Rickson walked in. The entire place went silent. One of the subordinate instructors told us to circle up and started directing some exercises. I have never seen Jiu Jitsu students do jumping jacks, push-ups, and stretching with such intent. Finally, Rickson nodded at the subordinate instructor, who stopped the exercises and sat us down in a circle around the perimeter of the mat. Rickson walked out into the center of the circle and knelt comfortably on his knees. You could hear a pin drop. He sat for a period of time and then spoke in a soft but confident tone.

He talked about Jiu Jitsu. About offense and defense. About weight distribution and pressure. About leverage and patience and timing. He explained details and connected elements and clarified principles. I listened intently. We all did. Eventually, he taught some moves. They were basic, sure, but his granular instruction was something I had never experienced. We students paired up to try the moves while Rickson walked around and made adjustments: More weight there, or too much space, or Not enough pressure.

After an hour, the instruction part of the class was over. It was time to sparto engage in full-force training against other members of the class. My instructor from San Diego had told Rickson I was visiting his academy and asked if he would spar with me. Rickson approached me and asked if I wanted to train with him. Yes, sir!

At this time I was a blue belt in Jiu Jitsu, a lean 225 pounds. I worked out every day and had been training Jiu Jitsu hard for about two years. I had competed at the blue-belt level and won many competitions. I trained daily in San Diego with Dean Lister, a future world champion, and with many other highly skilled Jiu Jitsu practitioners. I was focused and motivated and determined.

None of those things mattered.

Rickson, who was forty pounds lighter than me, made me feel like a child.

He effortlessly controlled my movement, isolated my limbs, and submitted me over and over and over again. I fought hard, applied technique after technique, made adjustments, tried to surprise him, and used all the strength and trickery and skill and effort I could muster.