My four worst injuries have all been fencing related. Not sure why I feel like writing this, but something has me dwelling on my most epic swordplay adventures. I fought epee, which is full body and no right of way.
Dead Arm
This was a high school injury, but it was at an open meet. I didn’t really warm up because I got there late. I was already having some twinges in my right shoulder and flexed it. I voiced my concerns to my mom who was there as driver and cheerleader. She was about to play the role of ambulance driver.
As I entered my first match, my mom called out for me to be careful of my bad shoulder. I should point out that fencing is a very honorable sport. Well, it’s supposed to be. This hefty, power fencer tasted blood in the water and he knew me from the high school competitions. He wailed on my right shoulder with every shot. By the third hit, I was barely able to hold my arm up. I forced it and finished the match. Stupid part is that I kept going with the other fencers in our round robin agreeing to whup the other guy and finish me off quickly before I hurt myself even worse. They knew it was pride and I wouldn’t step down without finishing the first round.
The verdict? Torn a bunch of tendons in my shoulder and the other had tendonitis. Physical therapy for a few months and my dominant arm was a useless limb for a few weeks. I still have some residual weakness there.
Concussion & the Quick Kill
I started a fencing club in high school. We had fun sparring and learning, which is where I learned the basics of teaching fencing. There were several interesting guys in this. One was someone that was experienced and was a lefty, which made it difficult for me to take him. I was an average fencer. I won’t lie there.
Another guy had a strange foil with a ‘sword of omens’ grip and he’s the one I was fighting when this disaster happened. He was nervous about fighting me for some reason. I get that a lot around new fencers because I was very fast with my feet and reflexes. So, I hopped (term is balestra) at him using my leg strength to propel me forward. I have very strong legs. This guy had strong arms and shot his arm forward. Right between the eyes and I went down like an easy girlfriend. I hopped up, asked what hit me, and then I was having dinner with my family that night.
The story goes that I decimated him 5 to 0 in less than a minute then my friend walked home with me. I was talking about classes, comics, and fencing. There was no sign that I had anything wrong with me. This little incident earned me an end of year award called ‘The Quick Kill’.
Nerves and Eleanor
Remember the fencer I mentioned in an earlier post that tried to catch a squirrel? He was odd, but an amazing fencer. He also had an incredibly flexible foil that he named Eleanor and the rest of us called that damn flick blade. It could bend around a parry to hit, so you had to parry further up the blade. In an end of year competition for our club, it came down to me and him. Disaster was brewing.
Eleanor flicked around my parry and struck me in the back of the neck. Right where the spine meets the skull with enough force to make my body randomly spasm. It was bizarre and I thought I could fight through it after 10 minutes of rest. Well, I did win the fight because one big spasm caused me to strike Eleanor hard enough that she split in two. It was the right spot with the right amount of force. She was an old blade and was probably on her last legs. Eleanor died epically. I still feel guilty about that.
Like a Bull to the Balls
I recommend that all guys cross their legs in preparation for this one. At the early days of the college fencing club that I co-founded with a teacher, we had an uncontrollable power fighter. This guy would hit people with all his strength, including new fencers and female fencers. I’m not saying go easy on women, but a 6 foot plus giant trying to stab through a 5 foot plus girl is unfair. It got to the point where I had enough and said that it had to stop. Then, the end of semester competition started and we had a Rocky-style thing going on.
I made it to the final round with the power fighter and people wanted me to beat him to teach him a lesson. I’m not the strongest, the fastest, or the most skilled fencer. This guy was trained in Germany and could bench press me with a finger. All I had was my reflexes and the title of ‘Bunny of Death’. So, we went point for point and he got frustrated. I had never fought him before this for some reason. He needed to slow me down and he got his chance.
I jumped high to strike his shoulder and he came in low and up. I never wore a cup because I could never move comfortably with it. I paid for that. Launched back a few feet by his epee striking me in the groin. I landed on my feet and he got another point on me. If you’ve read this far then you know I didn’t give up. Say what you want about me, I’m a tenacious little bastard. I got up and demonstrated that I fight better when injured than when I’m healthy. I won the match, saluted, shook his head, and promptly fell to me knees crying.
Again, I’m not sure why I thought about writing about this. Maybe because I found my old gear. I find my fencing stories entertaining, but most deal with injuries.
