Anti-Fragile

"When you realize you are no longer made of glass, you lose the desire to demonstrate that fragility in others." ~ Chris Matakas

We've heard the tropes of faux bravado masking insecurity a thousand times:

• I just see red and go.

• You don't know my mentality (bro).

• Etc.

It's easy to mock the people espousing these when they're so clearly trying to convince themselves of their confidence and skill more than anyone else. Maybe it's a more expected if you're 19 and haven't seen much of the world and a little more embarrassing at 40. Clearly a lot of people have a lot of growing up to do.

I can't say that I condone this behavior, but bothering to take up space for yourself is an important aspect of identity development. After all, "self-defense" starts with convincing yourself that you're worth defending; you must first be an entity, and an entity worth sustaining. In other words, pride as a virtue, not a mortal sin.

Maturity is surviving your ass having to cash the checks your mouth writes when life calls the in the debt. Some readers might not remember what a checkbook is, so just imagine for a minute if everyone you ever passed a slanderous or insulting comment to online was waiting for you in the parking lot after school. The police and teachers can be there too, they just won't intervene -- certainly not in a timely fashion.

There's a calm and confidence, measured expectations, and calculation of risk-of-engagement that comes with real exposure to real threat. We can apply this process to virtually any endeavor, sports and fighting are very accessible metaphors though.

Unfortunately, the peak of the Dunning-Kruger Effect isn't the know-nothings trying to prove something to themselves. It's the folks who have developed "just enough skill to be dangerous." They've made an obvious transition that corresponds to their level of investment -- thus far. Time and experience just haven't caught up, yet.

There's a well known expression that the more you understand fighting and violence, the more you avoid it. This isn't just about self-defense or grappling, it's a metaphor for life. The greater my conviction in myself, the less my compulsive need to display that confidence to others. Which, paradoxically, reads much more accurately as confidence rather than insecurity.

In a grappling-specific sense we can comically laugh at the newly minted purple belt that buys purple ... everything! The belt. The gi. The rashguards. Their keychain. A t-shirt or two, and pimp suit are in the Amazon queue. And their social media bio will prominently display their rank. (Relax, it's a joke, we've all been there, and I still do this -- black and red are just more clandestine.)

Things get a little more serious in the training room. I won't call out anyone other than myself, so let's take an example. During constraints-lead or positional-sparring, do you fudge the rules so you can notch an arbitrary win? Do you make excuses (different from factual, technical analysis) why you didn't "win" the round? Similarly, do you decide your intensity and level of engagement based on who shows up that day rather than your own recovery needs and training plan?

I'm guilty of all these things.

That's why, for what it's worth, I think I still lose most rounds. Not by points or submission, but by deviating from my objectives. Did I default to my A-game to "win" the round by it's outcome? Did I ramp up the intensity to "win" even though I said it was going to be a recovery day?

Integrity is about honesty. It's a promise to yourself and a service to others.

There will always be someone younger, stronger, faster, more talented, more technical, and likely a combination of those things. In fact, you could argue that it's our exact responsibility as (good) coaches to create such athletes.

It's not an insult to be submitted by your students, it's a compliment and an honor. You're doing something right. You're producing something of value. You're not holding back "secrets for the private lessons."

The caveat is, of course, your own confidence in yourself. It will be as firm or flimsy as your attachment to outcomes shows. Obviously winning is important, but there is a time and place for testing and training, competing and practicing, hardening and sharpening -- they’re are all essential and often times counterintuitive to each other.

Constantly hardening (broadening) makes you dull. Trying to always stay sharp leave you brittle -- and eventually broken. The hard part isn't convincing yourself that one of these options is better than the other, it's deciding which is most relevant to your unique situation, development, personality, and the needs demanded by each of those.

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