Watch your opponent's back
There were two new epeeists among the fencers.
We'd reassembled, early and eager, for the first Wednesday night session of the autumn. It was hot - something called "summer" seemed to have arrived again, and after too much rest, wine and food my breeches seemed to have shrunk. Some fencers sat on the floor, talking, while others lurked near the pistes, waiting their chance of a bout. The first arrivals were already clashing blades.
I got talking to one of the new epeeists. He usually goes to another club and hasn't been fencing that long - only a year more than me. He wasn't young either, though he looked like someone careful of his fitness. When he suggested a bout, I was delighted.
He'd been standing with his back to the wall. I hadn't thought to inspect his jacket. But, as he moved to fix his bodywire to the box, I read the back. His stencilled surname was followed by the three letters "GBR". He wasn't just in better condition than me. This was a veteran with international experience. "Oh dear," I said - or something like that.
In fact, he was fun to fence. He was better and faster than me but I remembered the advice I'd been given at one-hit epee. This was a stylish fencer who used lots of flourishes. As he did his second, elegant circular parry I could at least try to score a hit. I didn't score many but there were one or two - and one, I'm glad to report came as my opponent advanced. Angled my blade swiftly for once, I scored a hit on his back.
Of course today I'm tired and bruised. Of course my fencing was slow and my accuracy erratic. But I scored some hits that pleased me. Today I've been smiling a lot. Life is better if you face it with a sword in your hand.
We'd reassembled, early and eager, for the first Wednesday night session of the autumn. It was hot - something called "summer" seemed to have arrived again, and after too much rest, wine and food my breeches seemed to have shrunk. Some fencers sat on the floor, talking, while others lurked near the pistes, waiting their chance of a bout. The first arrivals were already clashing blades.
I got talking to one of the new epeeists. He usually goes to another club and hasn't been fencing that long - only a year more than me. He wasn't young either, though he looked like someone careful of his fitness. When he suggested a bout, I was delighted.
He'd been standing with his back to the wall. I hadn't thought to inspect his jacket. But, as he moved to fix his bodywire to the box, I read the back. His stencilled surname was followed by the three letters "GBR". He wasn't just in better condition than me. This was a veteran with international experience. "Oh dear," I said - or something like that.
In fact, he was fun to fence. He was better and faster than me but I remembered the advice I'd been given at one-hit epee. This was a stylish fencer who used lots of flourishes. As he did his second, elegant circular parry I could at least try to score a hit. I didn't score many but there were one or two - and one, I'm glad to report came as my opponent advanced. Angled my blade swiftly for once, I scored a hit on his back.
Of course today I'm tired and bruised. Of course my fencing was slow and my accuracy erratic. But I scored some hits that pleased me. Today I've been smiling a lot. Life is better if you face it with a sword in your hand.
Labels: epee, fencer, fencing, happy, hits, international fencer, sword in hand, veterans