writing – Grappling with Jiu-Jitsu

One of the strange things about getting better at Jiu Jitsu is realizing just how many techniques you know and how few of them you actually use.

After years of training, I’ve learned dozens of submissions, sweeps, escapes, takedowns, guard passes, and combinations. I’ve drilled techniques that I thought were amazing when I first saw them. I’ve watched instructionals. I’ve saved videos on Instagram and YouTube that I was absolutely convinced I would try at the next class.

And then the roll starts.

Suddenly, I can’t remember half of it.

Sometimes I’ll finish a round and realize I had several opportunities to attack but didn’t recognize them until afterward. Or I’ll get into a position where I know I have options, but instead of flowing into one of them, my brain seems to start flipping through an imaginary Jiu Jitsu encyclopedia.

What am I supposed to do from here again?

The problem isn’t necessarily that I need to learn more Jiu Jitsu.

Maybe I need to get better at using the Jiu Jitsu I already know.

Maybe what I really need is a game.

Collecting Techniques

When we’re new to Jiu Jitsu, collecting techniques feels like progress.

You learn an armbar.

Then a triangle.

Then a kimura.

Then somebody shows you a cool back take.

Next week your coach teaches another variation.

Before long, you’ve accumulated a huge collection of moves.

The problem is that having a collection of techniques isn’t the same thing as having a system.

It’s like owning a garage full of tools but having no idea which one to grab when something breaks.

A Jiu Jitsu game gives those tools organization.

Instead of asking, What techniques do I know from here?, you begin asking something much simpler:

Where am I trying to go?

That’s a very different question.

Your Game Gives You Direction

I’m starting to think a good Jiu Jitsu game should work almost like a map.

If I’m standing, where am I trying to take the match?

If I end up on bottom, which guard am I trying to establish?

From that guard, what is my highest percentage sweep or submission?

If my opponent shuts that down, where does their defense take me?

If I get on top, what position am I trying to reach?

And once I get there, how do I finish?

That’s a game.

It doesn’t mean you only know five techniques. It means you have a handful of techniques that you understand deeply enough to connect together.

Your opponent closes one door and, ideally, their reaction opens another.

That’s when Jiu Jitsu starts becoming less about remembering moves and more about recognizing patterns.

The Submission Problem

I’ve noticed this particularly with submissions.

There are times when I’m rolling and feel like I’ve forgotten every submission I’ve ever learned over my seven years of training.

I’m controlling. I’m moving. I’m surviving. I may even be getting into dominant positions.

But where are my attacks?

Then afterward I can think of five things I could have attempted.

I don’t think the answer is learning five more submissions.

If anything, that’s probably making the problem worse.

The better question is: Which submissions do I want to become known for?

Maybe I don’t need twenty different attacks from side control.

Maybe I need two that work together extremely well.

If my opponent defends the first, their defense creates the second.

And if they shut down both, maybe that reaction gives me the opportunity to advance position.

Now I’m no longer searching my memory for a move.

I’m following a path I’ve traveled hundreds of times.

Your A-Game Isn’t Cheating

There’s sometimes an assumption that being a good grappler means being good everywhere.

Eventually, sure, we should try to become well-rounded.

But watch experienced grapplers and you’ll notice something: they have preferences.

They have positions they want.

They have guards they trust.

They have passes they repeatedly find.

They have submissions everyone in the academy knows they’re looking for and somehow they still catch people with them.

That’s not a lack of creativity.

That’s expertise.

There’s something powerful about having an opponent know exactly what you want and still being able to take them there.

Your A-game becomes the foundation everything else grows around.

Depth Before Width

Maybe part of getting better at Jiu Jitsu is eventually changing the question.

Instead of:

What else can I learn?

We start asking:

How much better can I become at what I already know?

Can I hit that sweep against someone who knows it’s coming?

Can I get to my favorite position against a better grappler?

Can I recognize the transition before I have to consciously think about it?

Can I connect my best takedown to my best pass, my best position, and eventually my best submission?

That’s depth.

And depth takes time because you’re no longer simply learning what a technique looks like.

You’re learning timing.

Reactions.

Counters.

Counters to counters.

You’re learning when the technique isn’t there.

That’s the difference between knowing a move and owning it.

Build Something That’s Yours

I still want to learn new techniques. That’s part of what keeps Jiu Jitsu interesting.

But I’m becoming less interested in collecting moves just for the sake of collecting them.

Some moves just aren’t for me. They may not feel right for various reasons.

I want connections.

I want to know where I’m going.

I want certain positions to feel like home.

And I want to develop a game that reflects who I am as a grappler… my body, my age, my strengths, my limitations, and the way I naturally move.

Maybe that’s one of the transitions that happens as you progress in Jiu Jitsu.

At first, you’re trying to learn everything.

Eventually, you start figuring out what’s yours.

So the next time you feel like you don’t know enough techniques, maybe the answer isn’t another instructional or another move saved to your phone.

Take inventory of what you already have.

Pick your best positions.

Pick your highest-percentage attacks.

Figure out how they connect.

Then drill those paths until you don’t have to search for them anymore.

Because at some point, you probably don’t need more Jiu Jitsu.

You need to turn the Jiu Jitsu you already know into your Jiu Jitsu.

There are days where I leave the mat feeling like I’ve unlocked something. Days where I feel like a ninja. My timing feels sharp, my technique flows, and I catch a couple of subs that make me think, “Yeah, I’m getting somewhere.”

And then there are days (more than I like to admit) when I walk out of class shaking my head. Frustrated. Tired. Even embarrassed. Asking myself questions I thought I had stopped asking a long time ago.

Why did I freeze in that position?
Why couldn’t I get out of that side control?
Why did I feel like I forgot everything I’ve learned in the last year?

Some days, I just suck, and last night was one of them. Last night I fought for my life with an energetic, tough 14 year old. I struggled with a young, athletic 20 something and I got absolutely destroyed by a grizzly guy who turns 56 next month.

I left the gym feeling like, yeah, tonight was not my night.
And as much as I hate it in the moment…
I’ve learned that it’s not only normal, it’s necessary.

Progress Doesn’t Look How You Think It Will

When I first started training, I assumed progress would be clean and steady, like leveling up in a video game. You train, you improve. You drill, you retain. You roll, you dominate.

But the mats and Jiu Jitsu don’t care about your expectations.

To take a cue from things I’ve learned in psychology. Progress isn’t always linear and in Jiu Jitsu, progress isn’t only not linear, it spirals. You revisit the same positions over and over. You “learn” something five different times before it sticks. And just when you think you’ve got it figured out, you roll with someone who exposes all the gaps in your game.

It’s humbling. And at times, it’s exhausting.

But the truth is, those days where you feel like you suck?
They’re often the ones pushing you closest to growth.

The Humility Behind the Belt

People see the belt you wear and assume that means you’ve figured something out. And sure, you’ve learned some things, you’ve put in the hours, you’ve been tapped more times than you can count, you’ve survived the awkward white belt phase and kept coming back.

But what they don’t see is the doubt that still lingers.

Even now, as a purple belt, there are days I feel like a beginner. I second-guess my instincts. I get stuck in positions I should be able to escape. I roll with someone newer who catches me slipping, and my ego wants to spiral.

That’s when I have to remind myself: this is part of it.

You don’t grow by always winning. You grow by getting uncomfortable, by testing the limits of your timing, by rolling with people who challenge you mentally and physically. You grow by getting exposed and deciding to come back anyway.

Last night, I got worked. I could’ve blamed it on being exhausted, on the lack of sleep, on just not having it in me to go hard. And yeah, maybe all of that was true. But they’re also just easy outs. The truth is, it wasn’t my night. And instead of running from that or dressing it up with excuses, I’m learning to sit with it. To let it teach me something.

The point is, I showed up and I’ll keep showing up, even when I’m not feeling at my best and even when it’s not my night to be the hammer, but instead the nail.

What the “Suck” Actually Teaches You

Let me tell you what those frustrating days like last night have taught me:

They teach me humility. To let go of the image I have of myself and just be a student of the art again.
They teach me patience, not just with the art, but with myself.
They teach me resilience, to shake off the bad rounds, the bruised ego, and still show up the next day.

Most importantly, they’ve taught me that sucking isn’t failure, it’s a sign that I’m still learning. That I’m pushing my limits. That I’m evolving.

Staying in your comfort zone doesn’t lead to breakthroughs.
Feeling clumsy, out of rhythm, exposed, that’s where the real growth is hiding.

I see it all the time. Students who only want to train when they feel 100%. As soon as they’re tired or slightly off, they avoid rolling, afraid of “losing,” of not looking sharp. Of judgement. But here’s the truth:

There is no losing in training.

I try to encourage them to show up anyway. To train when they’re tired. When they’re not at their best. When they can’t go 100%. That’s when you learn to breathe. To defend. To survive. And honestly? That’s some of the most valuable training you’ll ever do.

Because the outside world doesn’t care if you didn’t sleep well last night.
It doesn’t care if your body aches or your mind is scattered.
Life’s not going to wait for you to feel perfect before it tests you.

You have to learn to show up anyway.
To give what you can.
To stay in the fight, even when it’s not your day.

You’re Not Alone, Even If It Feels Like It

I used to think I was the only one who felt this way. Like everyone else was improving on a straight line and I was the only one who couldn’t get my body or brain to cooperate.

But as I’ve talked to more training partners and coaches over the years, I’ve realized everybody feels this at least sometimes.

Even black belts.
Even competitors.
Even the people who look smooth and confident every round.

They’ve just learned how to ride the wave instead of fighting it.

They know that feeling lost, tired, or off doesn’t mean you’re backsliding. It just means you’re in the middle of the work. It means you’re human.

Final Thoughts

So yeah. Sometimes I suck. Sometimes I wonder “what am I even doing with my life?” LOL.

And honestly? I’ve made peace with that.

Not because I’m okay with mediocrity, but because I’ve finally accepted that mastery looks messy up close. The road to improvement is paved with awkward rolls, ego checks, forgotten techniques, and quiet nights where you wonder if you’re cut out for this.

But I keep showing up.
Not because I always feel great…
But because I know that’s what growth actually looks like.

Some days you feel sharp. Like a ninja even.
Some days you feel like you’ve never trained before.
And both are part of the journey.

So if you’re feeling stuck, if you’re questioning yourself, if you’re sitting in your car after class wondering if you even belong on the mat, take a breath. You’re not alone.

You don’t have to be perfect to be progressing.
You just have to keep going. You have to keep showing up and as they often say, learn to embrace the suck.

Tag: writing

You Don’t Need More Techniques. You Need a Game.