Fencing

I was on the NYU fencing team during the first semester of my freshman year.  It’s one of those things, at least to me that sounds impressive when in reality it wasn’t at all.  I walked onto the team and I don’t know if there was a mandate to let any one join if they wanted or if I was barely acceptable enough to make it on my merits.  I had gotten into fencing a few years before that in high school, where I was a starter on the varsity team, a team that went on to win the city championship in my senior year.  I was either the worst or second worst starter on that team but due to my high self-confidence and recent medal, I figured I would try out.  A few guys from the high school team the year before (and the year after) ended up with scholarships and when they came back to visit they warned how very different the landscape was.  It shifted from the team-oriented environment that we all embraced to a very individual event.  For the layman, fencing had three different types of weapons and each has different areas on the body where points can be scored and first person to 5 wins.  There are only two fencers on the strip at a time.  The total number of bouts won determines the winner of the overall match.  So it’s an interesting mix of individual and team. Enough exposition. 

I remember finding out about the team after they had already started practicing.  I made a terrifying phone call to the coach, Steve at his day job, a civil war antique store in New Jersey.  Former Olympian, coach of a division 1 fencing team, owns and runs a civil war antique shop; you can’t script life.  He told me to come down on Tuesday and the normal practice schedule was Tuesdays, Thursdays at 6:30- 9 and on Saturdays at 9am for practice.   I showed up full of smiles and nervous energy expecting to find a familiar positive atmosphere like what my last team had been.  I couldn’t have been more off base.  Looking back on it now, it what I’d imagine training for the Olympics is like.  The three coaches ran us through the most intense workouts I had ever been a part of.  They were broken up into stretching, running, calisthenics and finally fencing.  Thankfully after each section there was a 2-3 minute water break.  I would spend the entire time with my mouth around the spigot and breathing heavily through my nose.  When we got to my first fencing portion the coach for foil took me to the equipment room and handed me some gear.  There are different types of handles on the foils and in high school I had always used a French grip but he had handed me a pistol grip.  I asked for a French grip and was curtly told in a Russian accent, no French only pistol.  I was off to a wonderful start!

The actual fencing practice was round robin tournament style where you’d fence about 6 bouts throughout the rest of practice.  I don’t remember exactly how did my first time but I think I ended up winning a few bouts but definitely losing more than I had won.  Those couple of wins justified me being there at I least I thought so.  They didn’t tell me to not come back, which I took as a positive.

I was in a serious amount of pain from being so out of shape after the first practice.  After the second practice, walking on stairs in any direction was not a possibility.  After the first Saturday practice, the third practice overall, I took the E train from West 4^th to 42^nd Street to catch the 7 train to get to Flushing.  If you aren’t familiar with the walk from the E to the 7 at 42^nd, there are/were a series of ramps with an incline deemed not safe for wheelchairs.  There’s a gradient that’s not that steep but steep enough to make you wonder how much fun it would be to on rollerblades.  Anyway, after that 3^rd practice of the week I started walking down the first ramp and quickly had the realization that the muscles in my legs had betrayed me and refused to follow any more orders.  Gravity had grabbed me and was pushing quickly down the ramp towards the wall where you would turn and descend another ramp.  There a flat area to make this turn around approximately 6 feet from the end of the ramp.  At each and every one of the 8 landings I was able to come to stop about a foot from the wall.  I was completely convinced that I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself and end up with a broken nose from slamming into any of the walls. 

The coaches would work individually with the fencers during practices.  I was never quite sure what the criteria was for being selected.  The team captain, I think was named Glen, I found out wasn’t chosen out of merit but because the guy who had the same seniority had gotten into a fist fight at the last tournament.   I kept my head down, showed up to all the practices and worked as hard as I could.  After about a month or so I had become pretty good and was consistently finishing between 4-2 and 6-0 during the round robin portion of practice.  Coach Steve had announced that there would be two events in the next few weeks.  The first was an out of state tournament and the second was a public practice to get alumni to come and see the team in an effort to raise some money. 

In one of my first disappointments on the team I was told that I would be going to the tournament only to be cut because of budgetary reasons a few days beforehand.  Not so much of a disappointment but more of an eye opening experience, was the open practice.  Apparently the people that were recruited for the team and received scholarships weren’t expected to show up to the normal practices and instead were to use that time to keep their grades up.  They were given a free ride, housing, and tutors.  I remember being incredibly bitter about all of it because I was up at 5:30 every morning, traveling at least an hour and a half each way (closer to 3 hours on practice nights) to and from school, working 5 hours a day, keeping my grades up and not receiving the time of day from the coaches.  So when the open practice came around, I was pumped. I had a chip on my shoulder and I had something to prove.  I was doing well against the rest of the team so this was my moment.  I went up against a few of the regulars before being called to fence, Alex (his name might not have been Alex).  Alex was a freshman like me but he was one of the team’s stars.  He had the privilege of the full ride and he had never come to a single practice. 

I came out with a quick attack, which he parried and hit me for a point.  1-0. Ok, I thought, stay aggressive.  I went back at him toying with his foil a little before going in. 2-0.  Ok, ok, time to dial it back and play a little defense.  I laid back waiting to see what he’d do. 3-0.  Defense has never been my strong suit, back to offense as I explode forward. 4-0.  Fencing masks are made of a metallic mesh that you can see through.  I’m pretty sure I saw Alex yawn during our exchange before he scored the fourth point.  At that point I was cooked.  I charged again and it was 5-0.    These guys didn’t have to come to practice because they were so far out of our league that it would be a waste of their time.  I never found out if they had their own practice time or if they had worked with the coaches individually. 

After going to one match at Yale, never getting any attention from the coaches and getting offered a promotion at work, I quit the fencing team with about a month to go in the season.  I remember feeling like I was wasting my time but looking back at all the time that I’ve wasted since then it’s something that I regret.