The Day Anderson Silva Kicked My Ass

Photo from Tapology

During the academy, one of the most tiring weeks was the one where we learned grappling and how to deal with combative subjects. This training was grueling. 5 days of rolling, fighting, mounting, and “shrimping”.

For the most part, we thought it was fun. While tired and sore, it kind of made us all feel a little more prepared. If nothing else, we’d have some cool party tricks to demonstrate pressure points and wrist locks.

We learned all the ways to take weapons from people and retain our own. We learned different mount positions and how to defend when someone is on top of you or in side control. We considered it mostly a game. It was a task to get through on our way to graduation. I don’t think many of us applied the framework to the mental picture that we may one day have to be fighting for our life. Like much of the academy, it was a simulation. It was fun.

Despite the game mentality and the fun of learning some new skills, that was the most training that some of us ever got related to fighting. Some departments offered some recertification classes at some points over the years, but it was never enough to retain it. When you did get into a scuffle on the street, you fought the same way you would have at eight years old on the playground.

In much of police and military culture, there is the understanding that jiu jitsu is a good skill to have. It’s no secret that being able to control your opponent with the least amount of resistance is a good thing. Being able to gain compliance without the exertion of much energy is paramount to winning the fight. It makes everything easier.

But most of us don’t ever pursue that hobby. The gyms are expensive. The class times don’t always work with a police schedule. There was always a reason that it just never worked out. At least that was my experience. I knew that it would be good to do a few classes, but I always had a reason why the timing wasn’t right.

After I left the job, I had a sense of wanting to find that camaraderie again with a group of people. I thought back on the time in the academy and my mind wandered back to the week of grappling. The day we were all exhausted on the mat, but feeling empowered.

I began to think about taking up that jiu jitsu hobby that I had pushed aside before. It would keep me active. I could meet some new people. Make some new friends. I was hooked on the idea that at nearly 30 years old, I could develop the skill set that I had thought about but avoided for so long.

One day, I left work a little early, and went by the local jiu jitsu and boxing gym. I talked with the owner. A skinny, wiry, and visibly tough man. He had a bit of abrasiveness to his style. He was a fighter, and I respected him.

He toured me around the facility. I watched some younger kids sparring and practicing kicks. They were impressive.

I began to doubt whether I was cut out for that sort of thing at my age. I had done my time on the street. I had developed a weaker back as a result of wearing the gear for so many years around my waist. I wondered what exactly I was getting myself into coming in for the tour.

The owner provided me with the class schedule and said he offered a week for free to try it out. I could just come by one day to whatever I wanted to try and see what I thought. Simple enough. I thanked him and left.

I couldn’t find the courage to go for a few weeks. I was scared of being the new person. I was worried that I’d be the punching bag for all the experienced badasses who would love to have fresh meat to pound.

One day, while on the way to my normal gym at 5:45 in the morning, I thought about the jiu jitsu class that started at 6:00 AM. I had to drive right past the gym on the way to where I was going to workout. I was feeling good that day. Alert. Confident. I decided to go to jiu jitsu instead. On an impulse, I pulled into the parking lot of the jiu jistu gym instead of continuing my normal route.

“Well,” I thought, “here goes nothing. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I walked in with a few other men. Wiping sleep from their eyes and hydrating. No one was overly talkative. It was 6 AM, after all. Each person removed their shoes and made their way onto the mat. Some began stretching. Others made small talk about their jobs or their kids.

I followed suit and seated myself on the mat. I began following the lead of some of the people stretching and doing similar movements.

The owner came through the door, ready to go. He was awake. He was alert. He looked ready to kick our ass. I was a bit nervous at this point.

He looked directly at me. I panicked.

“You’re new?”

“Yeah,” I squeaked, “I was in the other day, and…”

“Yeah, got it. Come sign the paperwork up here and grab a gi.”

I got myself up off the mat. Everyone’s gaze fixed upon me as I made my way up to do as I was instructed. I couldn’t help but think that they were placing a target on my back.

The instructor gave me a loaner gi and a white belt. He said I could return them at the end and if I decided to go with the gym, then I could buy my own kit.

I placed the gi on, and then I got to the belt. I took karate when I was maybe six years old. I had no recollection of how to get this elongated piece of cloth around me in a sensible fashion. I looked up, bewildered and embarrassed.

The instructor grabbed the belt and kinked it into just the right placement around my waist like I was six years old again.

I understand that it’s normal not to know something you’ve never done before, but I felt like an imposter. A freshman showing up to varsity practice. I wasn’t sure coming was the right choice, but I was in the room now. No turning back.

We ran through a series of drills. Shrimping came back to me, and I suddenly realized how much better it felt without a gun and holster driving into your hip. The instructor assigned me a partner, and we ran through the moves for the day.

There wasn’t a beginner section. They didn’t put me in a play pen to practice by myself. Instead, I was paired with a blue belt. Someone who was patient and understood the nuances of the sport. He knew the right amount of pressure. He didn’t get overzealous or mess up and dislocate my arm.

I felt a bit out of place. I felt bad that this blue belt was having to roll with me on my first day. But the beauty of the jiu jitsu community is you are all part of a common experience. Everyone in the room was a white belt at one time. Everyone had a day one and felt the same way I was feeling. It was very much like joining a new kind of club at school, but being the new kid.

When it came time for live rolling sessions, essentially sparring for jiu jitsu, I was asked to sit out. They didn’t need me getting hurt on day one. But I watched the others. They had all kinds of tricks, escapes, and holds. They would roll for a series of timed rounds, and then everyone would sprawl out on the mat and rest. They were all breathing heavy. Sweating. Putting in work. It was fun to experience this new type of culture.

At the end of the session, everyone was very kind. They asked what I thought and if I’d come back. They asked what I did for a living and thanked me for coming in and joining them. It was very welcoming which is not something I ultimately expected from a group of trained combat-oriented minds. But they were just people. Engineers. Salespeople.  Students. They all just happened to also like to sweat and grunt while trying to choke someone out.

I came back to a couple more classes during my free week. It was fun, and I was trying to decide how the class schedules would work with my professional schedule. I was considering my next steps when, during one class, the instructor reminded everyone about the upcoming seminar through the American Killer Bees. The gym was associated with the American Killer Bees as essentially a franchise operation. They were connected to AKB for seminars and tournaments. It helped to give them credibility.

As the instructor spoke about the seminar, he was providing reminders. “Anderson has been gracious enough to come and visit our gym. You will be respectful of his time.”

“Anderson?” I remember thinking. “Wouldn’t that be funny if it were like Anderson Silva from UFC?” I knew that wasn’t a possibility for this little gym in Opelika.

The instructor continued.

“As you all know, he’s a black belt. You don’t ask to roll with black belts. If he chooses to demonstrate a move or assist you, then that’s fine. But you respect his experience and you only react to what he approaches you with.”

He really was laying it on thick. This guy must be important.

“This is going to be a big event. It’s not everyday Anderson Silva comes to our gym. So we need to be mindful of parking, and…” his voice was still talking, but my brain stopped listening.

Did he just say Anderson Silva?

Was there another one?

It was unbelievable to me that Anderson Silva would be coming to Opelika, Alabama. After the class, I shyly asked the instructor why Anderson Silva was coming to the little gym.

Turns out Anderson Silva trains under the American Killer Bees organization. Since the gym was a subsidiary, then it opened them up to seminars from their instructors and fighters. Anderson was one of those people.

Photo from Georgetown MMA

He must have been able to see the excitement in my eyes. He told me it wasn’t too late to sign up to come. I asked him if it would still be okay since I’d only taken like 3 classes. He said it would be fine and there would be people there from different gyms and across all skill sets. He said I could be there if I wanted to be.

Boy, I wanted to be. I came home and told my fiancée that I got invited to this amazing event with Anderson Silva.

She was less impressed.

I showed her the videos of Anderson obliterating his competition. I told her about Forrest Griffin and my other favorites from back in the day who got destroyed by the legend.

She was excited for me and told me to go.

I signed up, paid the money, and waited for the day.

On the event day, everyone showed up early. Anderson had to make an entrance of course.

There were a lot of people. They handed out T-shirts and everyone got into their jiu jitsu gear. Then, we all sat on the floor and waited for the Spider’s arrival.

When he appeared in front of the glass from around the corner, it was like watching history unfold. He stood tall, carrying his gi and his black belt. I watched as the traffic passed behind him, amazed that all of those people had no idea they were only a stone’s throw from someone who built a legacy in fighting.

He opened the door and poked his head in like someone looking for a bathroom at a store where they don’t want to buy anything. He glanced around the room and saw the large group of people sitting on the mat. All eyes fixed on him.

He snuck in like someone who was late to a party. He pulled one leg into the room and then the other behind it. He hunched over like he was a nobody trying to get through a crowd of people. He had the biggest smirk across his face as his eyes darted up from his hunched position to look at all of us.

He then stood straight up, smiled wide, teeth showing, and unleashed a big wave to the crowd. A, “Hello!” bellowed from his throat and everyone burst into applause.

He modestly tucked his head and thanked us. He then disappeared to the back to change.

When he came out, I almost felt nervous.

Anderson Silva.

White gi.

Black belt.

Multiple stripes affixed to the belt.

A master.

He may have changed, but he kept the same energy. He paraded around the room. Smiling and full of appreciation.

The owner said a few words to thank him for being there, and Anderson proudly thanked everyone for attending.

He then got down to business.

“Let’s get to work!”

Anderson led us through warm-ups. He went around to the kids and gave high fives and encouragement.

He demonstrated some moves for us to practice. They were so simple.

All of the years I’d spent watching him annihilate competitors thinking he must be a master of things no one else can do. To me, he was like a musician who can play arrangements of music that no one else can orchestrate. Yet, in actuality, his techniques were so smooth and linear. They made sense. They worked.

He would come around and help those perfect the technique. At one point, he came over to my partner and noticed something could be done a little better. He laid down and let my partner demonstrate the move on him. He asked the other student to apply the pressure and keep going, and then Anderson tapped.

This was amazing to me. I was seated next to them, gawking like a child. Anderson Silva gave this guy his back and let himself get submitted to demonstrate proper technique.

After tapping and the release of the student’s grip, he then smiled in a huge way.

“That’s it! You got it! Go again” he said, excitedly. He popped up and I slid into his place on the mat. The student went through the motions of the move and locked in the grip. Anderson was right, he definitely got it. I tapped, and swapped positions for my turn as Anderson moved to the next group.

We drilled for hours. All morning. Anderson never missed a beat. He jumped around. Laughing. Yelling. Encouraging. He was everything everyone hoped he would be.

They say don’t meet your heroes.

Anderson Silva doesn’t match that sentiment. He was only focused on the people that were there. He didn’t care about the cameras or the history he had in the UFC. He wasn’t boasting about championships or a time past. He was fully present and fully loaded. He brought all his energy to the group. And everyone had a blast.

As we began to wrap for lunch, the instructors wanted to ensure group photos were taken with Anderson. We took a big group photo and then different schools and segments of the gym were asked to take photos. Different belt classes. The instructors. The competitors. The fighters. The kids. Anderson smiled as big as he could for every photo.

We then completed the group photos and people began asking for individual photos. They had a chance to grab their phone and take a photo with the Spider.

Anderson stood there for every single person that wanted a photo. He gave a thumbs up or a fist with his hand, but his smile was huge for every single person. He thanked them for coming. Despite people saying that he was their idol and they got into jiu jitsu for him, Anderson Silva would just simply say, “Thank you,” and put his hands over his heart with that smile. There was no boasting. No showboating. No ego. Just love and appreciation.

With my 3 classes and 1 seminar under my belt, I also got in line for a photo. I felt a bit like an imposter, feeling like I didn’t belong or deserve to have my photo with him. But as I walked up, he shook my hand. I told him I was a big fan, and thanks for being a part of the event. He kept that big smile, and draped his arm around me.  

I am sure he could tell my white belt was brand new. My gi was still pressed almost the same as it had been when it came out of the shrink wrap.

But he didn’t care.  

He smiled.

He put an arm around me.

He gave a thumbs up.

And he thanked me.

That’s the kind of character I hope to bring to my life. That’s the spirit that I want to give others.

Infectious.

We wrapped the jiu jitsu session and everyone left for lunch.

Muay Thai was in the afternoon with Anderson. In the morning when I left for the gym, I intended on trying it. I hadn’t had the chance to do Muay Thai yet, and I thought it could be fun to learn some of the striking components.

But after the morning, I was wiped.

My toes were split open from the mat.

I had mat burn.  

I was sore.

My muscles ached.  

I stank.  

I was done.

I got home and told my fiancée all about my experience. I showed her the photos, and I told her about the spirit of Anderson Silva.

She was thrilled for me.

A couple of days later, I went back to my last class of my free week. Everyone was excited, talking about Anderson. It was quite an experience to look back on as we rolled that day.

That day I rolled with a younger kid. He wasn’t as patient. He wasn’t as good about his application of the moves. He snatched my neck one time in a choke, and I wasn’t quick enough to be ready to tap so he cinched it in.

Swallowing didn’t feel right for 3 days.

My head had gotten scraped up trying to post up on the mat.

My fiancée was a little concerned that I may end up looking like something out of Fight Club for our wedding day.

The free week was over. It was now time to decide if I was going to pay and make this a regular thing.

With the upcoming wedding in a few months, I was a bit concerned too. I knew people got hurt doing jiu jitsu. At the very least, you get a little banged up.

I didn’t want to stand at the end of the aisle watching my bride with a broken bone or a torn muscle. I didn’t want to look like a groomsman roughed me up outside before we entered the church.

So I decided to wait. I figured after the wedding I’d go back to jiu jitsu.

The wedding came and went. It was beautiful. My wife looked amazing. She outshined me, but at least I wasn’t scabbed over and limping.

Money went toward other things and plans for the future. I was content with where I was. I considered going back to the jiu jitsu gym, but I felt like I gleaned what I needed from the experience.

I learned a lot. I learned that you aren’t as tough as you think you are. That sometimes smaller people can have the upper hand. I learned that there are many ways to win a fight and do so with less effort than most people used.

I learned a lot about myself. That I can still do hard things. That I can put myself out there. That I can learn something new. And that I am seen. That a legend like Anderson Silva can treat me as an equal because I showed up and made the effort. I learned that there’s a lot I can apply of that mindset to my own life too.

I never made it back to jiu jitsu. And that’s okay. I learned a lot of lessons, and I can say I got my ass kicked by Anderson Silva’s teachings for a whole morning.

For those that are on the job as a law enforcement officer, I highly encourage you to seek some form of training in martial arts. It will make you better.

Luckily, I was able to do alright in the fights I had when I was a police officer. But I I say “lucky” with full intentionality. If someone had the skills the guys in that gym had, I’d have lost. And as the police, you owe yourself every opportunity to win. You should be training.

Yes, it’s expensive. Yes, the class times are hard. But make it work. Better yet, if your department can provide the resources then that is the best way to go about it. Have the department invest in some mats. Roll a little with your shift mates a couple times a week before or after work. See if anyone has more experience and can help with some techniques. Get better at the skills and you will see results when it’s the real thing.

Being a part of a jiu jitsu gym is also a culture. It provides the camaraderie that cops are so fond of. It gives you a place to get out your frustrations and do hard things. As a result, the rest of your day doesn’t seem too difficult.

You may not get the chance to meet Anderson Silva through doing jiu jitsu, but you will meet people like him.

Anderson Silva has the spirit he does with the infectious smile and the encouragement because of the gym. He was raised in a combat sport, and he can beat anyone in the room. But he is warm and kind. He is someone that everyone can learn from.

So even if you never meet a famous fighter, the journey is still worth it. Because you will develop better skills and forge new friendships. And you will learn a way to direct your energy in a way that serves others, just like Anderson “The Spider” Silva.

Anderson, thanks again for that day in Opelika. You taught me a lot, and it was about more than just fighting. I do my best to carry those lessons into everything I do and maintain the spirit that you embody.

Until next time.

Photo from Rolling Stone