Some clarification (it’s not goddamn Fight Club)

My last post got me a lot of reactions from people who don’t usually read this blog. Some were good, even encouraging. Others were extremely disparaging, or simply assumed that this combat training is nothing more than a try-hard fight club.

I’ll put down a few points and hope everyone absorbs them.

1) This is not Fight Club.

Whenever I try to explain what I do to people, they instantly jump to images of Brad Pitt and Edward Norton beating the snot out of each other in a dimly lit basement while everyone else stands around and cheers. The Fight Club of the movie (and book) is a place where grown men smack each other around as an escape from the doldrums of daily life. The only rules (as everyone knows) – no belts, no shoes, only one fight at a time, and the iconic “You don’t talk about Fight Club.”

My combat training is as far from Fight Club as possible. There are no mindless brawls. Nobody is there simply to hurt someone else, or even to win. All those who attend are very close friends. I love some of these guys like brothers. I trust them with my life and they trust me with theirs.

This is not bareknuckle boxing. We use boxing gloves and rubber knives. When not using gloves, we aren’t allowed to punch – we only take the gloves off when grappling. There are mats across the floor and carpet everywhere else. No hard corners, no concrete slabs.

Unlike “Fight Club”, there are many rules which change depending on the exercise. For example, in the 1 vs 16 fight, each fight ended as soon as the two fighters went to the ground. That exercise was a test of endurance. It was designed to be impossible to win. In another exercise, designed to train spacial awareness and reaction times, a single fighter was surrounded by all the other participants. Anyone could start a fight with the person in the centre, just by calling their name. The attack could come from any direction at any time. As soon as that attack was fended off, that fight was also over. If you had an image of two people just punching each other over and over in the face, you’re mistaken.

Most of the people on site are trained in first aid, and we always have a full stash of medical supplies handy. This is not the first time we’ve run these sessions. We’re not going off half-cocked.

2) It’s not that dangerous.

That photo of me below looks pretty nasty, I admit. But when you examine it objectively, you realise I have a horribly swollen eye and a lot of abrasions. That’s not much. If I was ever attacked on the street I’d expect to have black eyes, a broken jaw, lacerations, broken fingers and possibly stab wounds within five minutes. Yet over six hours of hardcore, mentally exhausting and physically painful combat training, I had a black eye and some carpet burn.

Rugby, our semi-national sport, is played in just about every highschool in the ACT and NSW. Players often end up with black eyes, missing teeth, broken noses, crushed fingers… but hey, that’s a normal sport, so I guess it’s okay? What about gymnastics? I still haven’t forgotten the girl at Erindale gym snapping her neck when she bailed a double-front onto the mats. Two thumbs up for gymnastics!

How many people break their legs skiiing every year, or their arms, or run into something at very high speed and die? But I guess skiing is pretty rad, and you get to wear some great snowsuits, so let’s just sweep those statistics under the carpet, hey?

My friend punching me in the head with a boxing glove on is a lot softer than a tree, and the tree doesn’t know first aid. Considering the knowledge of the people I train with, the environment in which we train, the medical equipment on hand and our own love for each other as friends, not enemies, this combat training is as safe as any sport you can name. Except perhaps chess. If you’ve ever trained rugby, gridiron, ice hockey, boxing, karate, gymnastics, skateboarding, skiing or snowboarding, or ever gone skydiving, bungee jumping, flown in a light aircraft or gone scuba-diving… you’ve been in much more dangerous situations than I, and you have no right to lecture.

3) Melbourne, like all cities, isn’t safe.

In my last post I mentioned a stabbing murder just down the road from my house. Here’s another story, and this one doesn’t have a news link, because it happened to two friends of mine.

These two (whose names I’ll withhold) were walking at about 9pm through the city when they were confronted by a gang of about 10 youths. These kids didn’t demand money, or mobile phones. They just started shouting “Let’s fuck them up! Let’s stab them! Throw them off the bridge!” That was all the warning my friends got.

It was a ten-on-two fight, which is obviously unwinnable. So my friends had to break free of the group and run. Keep in mind this was after the bashing had begun. Both were already injured – one of my friends had been knocked out by having his head rammed into a wall, had woken up on the ground, and then had to run blind because he couldn’t see through the blood in his eyes. They only made it because my other friend held him up and called directions. The gang chased them the entire way, only giving up when they got inside Flinders.

This didn’t happen down some dodgy alleyway. This was on the Immigration Bridge, crossing from Southbank to the CBD. There were onlookers, but nobody came to help. Nobody called the police. That’s just how things go, these days. Gang assaults don’t just happen to other people. They happen to friends and family, and eventually yourself.

I’ve personally been assaulted once in Canberra, and have had people try to assault me (unsuccessfully) twice in Melbourne. One time I got away by pure luck – the second time I managed to role-reverse and intimidate my would-be mugger into walking away using skills I learned at previous combat training sessions. If you wanted any proof that this is worthwhile, that was it. Nobody really heard about the second incident because nothing happened – but if I hadn’t had that previous training, and the confidence to make myself look big and ready to break heads, you would have all seen a blog post called Ow ow ow I got bashed and robbed boo hoo to Melbourne. Maybe you wouldn’t have heard anything. Maybe he would’ve just picked me as weak, stabbed me and walked away. You never know.

To the folk who have told me to quit this training – I respect your concern for my health, but it’s not going to happen. It may have already saved my life once. I hope I never need to use what I’ve learned, but I’d rather have these skills and this knowledge along with the bruises than have to walk the streets afraid. This training gives me strength – physically as well as mentally. I can’t think of anyone I know that wouldn’t benefit from trying something similar.

As always, love to all my friends and family – even those who think I’m a dummy.