In late April I finally made it to the gym to watch testing for the first time. The format was simple and I suspect it’s pretty universal among BJJ gyms – head trainers sitting at the front of the room asking people to demonstrate techniques on the curriculum. I don’t know if describing the reasons for the test and the focus for each belt color is standard but as a newbie, I appreciated hearing it. I doubt Jay’s brand of commentary is considered par for the course, but it would have felt like I was in the wrong place without it.
Over the course of the test Jay reiterated what was being tested at each level and my respect for the sport grew. My rough summary – white belts know individual moves, blue belts put it together, purple belts can make it flow, and brown belts must be able to teach. The natural progression of learning which translates to teaching makes perfect sense to me. And the emphasis on teaching shows that the sports values things beyond strength and technique. Along with giving back and helping the next round of students, teaching is one of the best ways to learn.
Much like many other of my BJJ first experiences, I found the testing process both interesting and a little intimidating. The levels were tested in order and the testers stood up when their level was being tested. Several people even tested for two stripes, one after the other. In most cases a fellow tester was your training partner – it made for an interesting match up when my 15 year old buddy Tony (5′??”) was matched up with a very solid older guy named Stan (6+’, bones possibly made of cement). The trainers sitting at the front of the room point to a tester and call out a technique. The process is surrounded by a quiet and supportive audience of fellow athletes. There is no direct feedback during the test – the trainers don’t tell you if you’ve made a mistake.
At the end of all the testing, the trainers privately discuss each performance and decide whether the person passed or failed. Three mistakes is a failure. When they emerge from their conversation, they call up the testers in order and ask each person if they’d like to fix anything. It’s a risk because doing something wrong could add to your errors. After the testers have a chance to make corrections, they finally learn receive feedback and learn if they’ve earned their stripe. Hint: Eli quietly ripping off pieces of athletic tape is a good sign.
As you may have already guessed from the title, the most engrossing part of the process I saw was the “shark tank” exercise that was required for athletes going for their 4th stripe. The basic premise is that all the students watching line up to roll with you – in order from newest to most experienced – and people keep swapping out so you are constantly rolling with a fresh person. The length of time you have to endure depends on your belt. As it happened, there were testers going for their 4th stripe at the Blue, Purple (x2), and Brown levels so I watched tanks that last 4, 6, and 8 minutes. Each tester was unraveled and exhausted by the end (I sometimes wonder why they bother with belts when they go that hard).
From the outside, this may seem like a brutal practice. Some sort of show of machismo, that you can battle fresh fighters coming at you basically every 20 seconds. But if that’s what you see, you are missing the point. It’s not a test of bad-assery, it’s a test of attitude and gameness. They aren’t expected to have great technique or to even make an opponent tap. They just need to keep going, keep engaging, never give up. No bad attitude, just do the work.
And all those dudes (and occasionally women) waiting to pounce aren’t trying to mess you up. They are being supportive. They’re testing you, not letting you off easy by any means, but they are absolutely on your side. The best example I saw of this came in the first tank for the blue belt. He was exhausted and had begun to struggle. I don’t think he would have quit but it was obviously getting very difficult to keep going. One of the purple belts literally called out “You can do it, get up!” while essentially leaping on top of him. Verbally lifting him up while physically knocking him down. How’s that for a dichotomy?
That was just one moment of many. Each tank felt like it lasted for an hour instead of a few minutes (probably felt like an eternity of the testers) and people were cheering and challenging the men on the mats the entire time.
Needless to say, it was a great experience for me. I left feeling both excited and terrified for when it was my turn to be the tester. But I know the fear will dissipate (at least a little!) when I’m ready to test and, as always, I’ll have an amazing community supporting me the whole way.
Sadly, in leg related news, I have not yet been cleared for “impact exercise.” The doctor, trying to be helpful, said I could participate in the non-contact portions of training. To which I replied “You mean the warm-ups???” Since those are about ten minutes and I know I’d be tempted to push my luck, I’m skipping it for now. It’ll be August before I have the go ahead to get back to the gym, but I plan to stop by and keep in touch with the community in the meantime. If there is another test before I return, you can bet I’ll be there, cheering along. If the test is soon after I return, perhaps I’ll be in my gi, jumping into the tank – knocking someone down and building them up.