Artechoke in a Can: Why I Share Jiu-Jitsu Classes for Free

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you have probably noticed me promoting a series called "Artechoke in a Can." Artechoke in a Can is the online version of my weekly no-gi class at Steel City Martial Arts in Pittsburgh, PA. This week's lesson is on arm drags.

The content that I am now making public started as an experiment. After a couple of years of teaching a no-gi class once a week, I decided that I liked to teach in modules, lessons that connect and build from class to class so that I can explore one position or technique or topic in greater depth than is possible in a single class.

As I started to transition to the module format, I realized that some of my students, while they enjoyed the depth, were frequently frustrated by the approach for two reasons: since I only taught once a week, it was sometimes difficult to remember what we covered 7 days ago, and since every class built on the previous class, missing a class in the middle made it particularly difficult to get caught up and to enjoy the subsequent lessons. At the same time, the students that did make it to every class really enjoyed the way the classes connected to each other.

So how can you cater to both audiences? That audience that can make it to every class and the audience that might miss a class here and there because life demands them to?

Make the content available outside of class.

So, with the help of my students, I started filming each class and uploading the videos with some descriptive copy to a class blog. After a few months, some students at our more distant affiliate schools were using the blog, and students that had no connection to our school whatsoever were using the material as well. At that point, after some long discussions with trusted friends, I decided to make the material public to contribute in my own small way to the growth of jiu-jitsu thought.

I am a purple belt teaching purple belt level material, this is true, and I don't claim that my instruction rivals that of any black belt. However, I know that I learned a lot from non-black belts when I was new to jiu-jitsu, and I still do. Matt "Aesopian" Kirtley was a blue belt when I discovered his blog. David Levy-Booth (of the Jiu-Jitsu Lab) is a purple belt--albeit a very advanced one--and I've learned a great deal from him as well.

My jiu-jitsu has grown because of people like Aesopian and like David, people who love jiu-jitsu and genuinely enjoy sharing what they've learned with others. In my mind, it's not fair to take and not to give back. It's like taking fruit from a tree: because others were willing to share their jiu-jitsu with me, I was able to plant a jiu-jitsu tree of my own. Hoarding that fruit, even if it's not black belt fruit, feels wrong.

If one person benefits from Artechoke in a Can, all of the work will have been worth it.

Learn more about Artéchoke Media by clicking here.

Your Humble Muscles Need More Reps

On Sunday morning, I dropped into my school's open mat to rehab a back injury and to teach an informal private lesson. After 20 minutes of solo movements, slowly and carefully increasing my mobility in an effort to baby and accelerate the healing of my strained lower back, one of my black belt instructors asked if I'd like to roll.

I was having trouble bridging without pain and any sort of twisting triggered an intense tightening of my core muscles. I had been dealing with the injury for a little more than a week and was doing my best to keep my training light enough so that the minor pain did not morph into a serious problem.

So I said yes and rolled intensely for an hour.

Thought my decision was not a wise one, I learned a lot from that roll, as I always do when training with grapplers that outrank me. I've been learning from this particular instructor for seven years now, and every roll is an opportunity to gauge my progress, to experiment, and to identify areas for improvement. I never win, but I am able to survive a little bit longer here or react a little bit more quickly there, and since I know I am losing to pure technique, I can map out what technical aspects of my game I should dedicate the next month to.

But the biggest lesson I learned from this black belt that morning did not come from the roll.

After we finished training, he asked me about my experience with the berimbolo. I admitted that I had played with it a little but found that I wasn't really cut out for it, in large part because of my physical limitations and partially because of my overall style of rolling.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well," he began, "I don't see it fitting much into my game either, but I'd like to learn more about it so that I can defend it and so that I can teach it. I've been playing with a few ideas, but I haven't used it enough to really say that I know all of the ins and outs."

Later, when I was partway through my private, I saw him talking to a blue belt about the berimbolo, discussing approaches, strategy, and tactics and even getting feedback on his technique. The black belt, a seasoned competitor and legitimately ranked instructor, recognized a hole in his knowledge and was humble enough to learn from a blue belt. Even though the black belt far surpassed the blue belt on overall technical ability, the blue belt had something new to share, and it takes a certain perspective to realize that that's okay.

It's very easy to forget that we are all white belts at something. There is no shame in not being an expert in everything, and we can sometimes forget that our gym as a community. Community means that everyone has the potential to contribute productively.

Billy Joel Was Wrong: You Should Ask Why

Billy Joel once said (sang):

Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

These three lines reveal why Billy Joel's jiu-jitsu career was brief and troubled (this is even referenced in his Wikipedia entry). Billy, despite his natural talents, struggled to look beyond the surface level details of a technique. He quickly became a master of the how, but he could never bring himself to address the why. Because he avoided the why, Billy could not explore the depths of jiu-jitsu, and when he spent a brief stint as an instructor, his inability to explain his decisions on the mat crippled his ability to teach.

Billy was a failure, which lead him to begin a less difficult career in music.

Ignoring the why at the white and blue belt levels is forgivable, but as you enter purple belt, exploring the why behind the techniques that you use can help to propel your game and combat plateaus. For my first year at purple belt, I didn't realize I was ignoring the why.

Women in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu: A Guide for Dudes

My fiancee and two my favorite female jiu-jiteiros striking a fighter pose
with a knight at the Pittsburgh Renaissance Festival.

I apologize for my absence. I've been working on some big projects, which you can hear more about by listening to my interview with Inside BJJ.

For much of my career, I have given little thought to women in jiu-jitsu. I trained with female jiu-jiteiros at home and abroad, and I read interviews with talented female competitors and watched instructionals featuring gifted female instructors, but I never paid much attention to the challenges that they faced. My thought process stopped at, "Oh, it must be kind of awkward to be a female in a male dominated sport like jiu-jitsu--Oh, sweet. A new armbar video."

Recent months have changed my perspective dramatically, and now something seems very clear to me: Jiu-jiteiros everywhere, we have a problem, and that problem is how we treat the women in our sport.

A Championship Belt and a Tragedy

On Saturday Sep. 29, my best friend, jiu-jitsu student, and wrestling coach Paul "The Wrecking Ball" Reihner won a championship at Gladiators of the Cage in Butler, PA via triangle choke in the second round. I have been training Paul for four years now and have been in his corner for most of his fights. To be a part of his success, to have a role in his realizing one of his dreams, is a nearly indescribable feeling. It is more rewarding than anything I have accomplished personally. To see the look on his face when that mediocre ring girl strapped his belt around his waist was exhilarating.

And I hated every minute of it.

Cornering Paul is hard for me because I worry, a lot. For the two weeks preceding the fight, I was irritable and distracted. If my mind had a moment to wander, I would think about Paul's fight, about what could go right and what could go wrong, about what we needed to do the day before and the morning of and during weigh-ins and at lunch and at the rules meeting and to warm-up and what we had to do during the walkout and where I would have to sit and what I would have to yell during the fight and what we would do after the fight was over. Fight time is fairly miserable for me.