The Art of Humility

Royce Gracie(left) at UFC 1 in 1993

When I was fifteen years old, my dad came home from work one day with a DVD of the first Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) event. His coworker gave him the copy after they had a discussion about martial arts and discipline for me. My dad knew I loved martial arts. He also knew I was a bit of a hot head as a teenager and had got into a few scuffles at school. My dad wanted for me to have a physical outlet, and his coworker told him the solution was in this tape.

What I witnessed on that DVD was the most captivating thing I had ever seen. Fighters from every discipline in the world brawling in a cage with no gloves, weight classes, judges, and only two rules: no biting or eye gouging. The goal of the event was to identify the most effective martial art in the world. The matches ended by submission, knockout, or the fighter's corner throwing in the towel. It was like I had taken a trip back in time to the days of the gladiators in the Roman Colosseum. But it wasn't the sheer barbarism transpiring in the cage that night that would guide me towards a life-changing path. It was a young Brazilian kid by the name of Royce Gracie.

Royce Gracie was a skinny kid. He was unquestionably the least intimidating fighter at the event. He had no muscle definition, twiglike arms, and there wasn’t anything remotely imposing about him. The other combatants were frightening—large, muscular and mean-looking. Based on physical appearance alone, Royce Gracie stood no chance, or so I presumed. But Royce cut through every opponent like a hot knife through butter, and he did it using an obscure grappling art at the time called Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.

The world of martial arts wasn't prepared for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ). Audiences had never seen a martial art that focused on grappling and ground fighting using submissions like joint locks and chokeholds to defeat opponents. BJJ proved that leverage and technique supersedes strength and demonstrated that smaller, weaker individuals could protect themselves against attackers twice their size. The Gracies used the event to show the world how effective and battle-tested their art was. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu would go on to revolutionize martial arts forever after the first UFC event in 1993.

That DVD was a revelation for me. I had no clue that Brazil had martial arts. When I thought of Brazil, I instantly associated it with Samba or Soccer. What was even more mindblowing was the fact that Royce’s family had intentionally selected him to represent their family and demonstrate the deadly effectiveness of their martial art. They deliberately chose the smallest and weakest member of the family to prove the effectiveness of their art. I decided I needed to learn Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, so the very next day I signed up at Charles Gracie’s academy in San Mateo.

I was choked to sleep by a girl half my size on the first day of class. She sunk in a choke, but I refused to tap. There was no way my pride would allow me to concede to someone much smaller and physically weaker than I was. But I quickly learned that Brazilian Jiu Jitsu demands humility. It demands respect and requires practitioners to leave their ego at the door. It’s non-negotiable. It doesn't matter how big or strong one is, they will be inexorably humbled. Pride is put aside and accepting being bested is the only option if one wants to preserve the integrity of their joints for the rest of their life.

I spent the next six years training at different schools. I got into excellent shape and learned how to defend myself. I became disciplined and made a lot of new friends that became like family to me. The benefits to training BJJ are endless. However, the most important thing I’ve taken away from Brazilian Jiu Jitsu is humility. There's no greater reality check than being put to sleep or having your joint hyperextended by someone half your size. My training has carried over into every aspect of my life. I treat everyone I meet with respect as if they were a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu black belt. That’s why I call it the art of humility.