Black Belts are Made of Magic

Some may have heard me say this before.  I think it was after one time where I rolled with Gilson and he did some flying, rolling, calf-slicer...thingy...on me.  I was exhausted, stood up and walked off the mats and promptly exclaimed, "black belts are made of magic".  This is a sentiment that got disturbingly reinforced last night.


Evening classes here are packed.  The mats at Gordo's support only about 7 (8 if you're pushing it) pairs of people rolling at a time.  When 25-30 people show up to class, this leaves a lot of downtime.  Morning classes end up being much more intensive.  You're tired and slow moving, and you are constantly rolling, because if you think American's don't like to wake up at 8am, try asking Brazilians to do the same thing.  


So last night while I was standing in line waiting for my turn to roll, I got to watch a stone faced black belt beat the ever living shit out of a brown belt.  It wasn't even close.  He wasn't muscling him either.  Sure he was using power and strenght, but not at the expense of good technique.  I then got paired up with said black belt.


You can ask some of the guys in the house, they saw the roll.  The proceeding ass kicking was spectacular.  I left the mat (as in, got major air time) several times.  Fortunately for me though, said black belt had terrific English, and helped me through every step.  "You need to stand to pass", he'd say, after I completely screwed up a guard break.  "Your posture is bad", he'd say, after I stood up and he yanked me back down.  "You leave your arm too deep", he exclaimed, after I stood up, framed up, and then got arm-barred.  He was amazingly helpful, and I made a point to ask his name after class (Cristiano).  


Now comes my first true weekend here.  Should be interesting.  I'll take pictures.