Dear Staphenie Vol. 7
No Licence. No Filter. No Mercy.
Welcome back to Dear Staphenie — where we untangle your submissions, your side control, and the deeply concerning stories you tell yourself between rounds.
This is a judgement-free zone.
Unless you start your roll from standing and call it “just seeing what happens.”
Let’s begin.
Dear Staphenie,
I’m a blue belt and I think I’ve forgotten how to pass guard. Every time I try, I get stuck in half guard and slowly swept like a Victorian child with tuberculosis.
Should I develop a system or just fake a knee injury and pivot to coaching kids?
— Perpetually Flattened
Hi poppet,
Blue belts are just white belts with participation trophies my dear, so it’s highly likely you never knew how to pass guard in the first place.
At my age I mainly play guard, therefore never having to pass. But if some chump beats you to the floor, follow my tried and tested formula:
Keep moving — itlooks like you’re trying to do something — then fall back on a leg for heel hook.
Do this over and over again until it works.
Dear Staphenie,
There’s a white belt at my gym who watches instructionals between rounds and then tries the move of the day on me like I’m a crash-test dummy.
He narrates what he’s doing. Out loud.
How do I deal with this without committing a small crime?
— Annotated and Frustrated
Depends on what kind of instructionals he’s watching sweetpea, if its that ratbag John, then you have a future prostitute killer on your hands.
Someone cool like Diego Pato, or Keiran Kichuk then I wouldn’t worry too much about it.
He’ll probably quit as soon as he gets his blue belt anyway, these flash in the pan obsessives don’t usually last very long.
Dear Staphenie,
I hit a clean armbar in comp last weekend and immediately made eye contact with the guy’s girlfriend while he was tapping.
She looked impressed.
Is this how affairs start or am I concussed?
— Gold Medal in Bad Ideas
Oh pumpkin, this is how every BJJ athlete gains a romantic partner, just ask Bourdain.
Every husband I’ve had was through submitting their girlfriends in front of them. For Josh, I had to send him a video from the competition on instagram because he wasn’t there in person and it still worked.
Similarly, every husband I’ve lost has been for the same reason. That’s why Belinda is currently dating Josh.
Circle of life, honey.
Dear Staphenie,
My coach says “just relax” every time I get stuck under side control.
I am not relaxed. I am being crushed by a former rugby player named Todd who smells like protein powder and unresolved anger.
Is relaxation a myth told by top players to gaslight us?
— Todd’s Emotional Support
Is Todd of age/single?
Actually, don’t worry about the single bit.
Dear Staphenie,
I’ve started doing jiu-jitsu to “work on myself” but all it’s revealed is that I hate losing, hate cardio, and hate being told what to do.
Is this growth or am I just paying $60 a week to confirm I’m difficult?
— Self-Aware but Not Thriving
Hmm… this is a tough one little butterfly.
Many people who start Jiu Jitsu find a lovely byproduct of training to be such things like loss of ego, becoming more humble and calmer in day to day life.
Sounds to me like you’ve always been a bit of a prick.
Not hating, pricks make it far in the sport. Look at Gordon — best to ever do it, managing to use every muscle in his body except the one that matters the most.
Train hard, be difficult, sit on a chair in the corner and you might end up with a few ADCC titles.
Dear Staphenie,
A purple belt told me my guard retention was “actually pretty good.”
I have thought about this compliment every day for six weeks.
Is this normal or should I seek professional help?
— Sustained by Validation
Not at all my darling!
I’m guessing you’re a man? Yeah, you guys don’t get compliments very often, so it’s understandable you’ve latched onto this one. Just try not to be weird about it.
I false reaped Lachlan Giles once and he called me a cunt, which is Australian for “pretty good” I think.
If you want to be adopted by this purple belt, offer them some weed. They’ll take you under their wing in no time.
Dear Staphenie,
I pretend not to care about stripes but I absolutely care about stripes.
Last week someone got promoted and I felt a deep, primal jealousy rise from my spine like a cursed serpent.
How do I kill this ego without killing the part of me that wants to improve?
— Spiritually Fragile White Belt
Oh gorgeous. I bet the coach makes you pay for them too?
Time for a power-play, me thinks. Get yourself down to the shop and pick up a roll of electrical tape.
Pop seven stripes on your belt immediately. Give some to your mates too.
Even better, call out your coach at the end of class and award him a stripe.
Dear Staphenie,
I accidentally called my coach “Dad.”
In front of everyone.
Should I move gyms or legally change my name?
— Paternally Confused
As long as it wasn’t ‘Daddy’ and he isn’t Andre Galvao, I’m sure he would have laughed it off and forgotten already.
It happens to the best of us cherub — once, I called a referee “hunky meat popsicle” instead of “ref”. We still make love whenever I’m at Grappling Industries in Campbeltown.
Dear Staphenie,
I am 38 years old, have two kids, a mortgage, and a mild hernia.
Why do I still believe I could win Worlds if everything just “clicked”?
— Delusionally Available
Masters Worlds is no joke, mush. It’s the Everest for hobbyists, and completely achievable.
Now, the bad news; you will have to sacrifice one of your children. The youngest is better as you’ve had less time to bond with them.
Dump ‘em outside of a fire station and put their school fees into your training.
The hernia will sort itself out eventually, mine just disappeared one day after an open mat.
Dear Staphenie,
Is it normal to feel spiritually bonded to someone you’ve only ever tried to choke unconscious?
Or is this trauma bonding with extra steps?
— Intimately Violent
Absolutely.
I’ve trained with the same people for over forty years, we’ve bled together, sweated together, laughed and cried together and I still don’t know their jobs, or names for that matter.
In fact, one of those people tried to socialise with me once and I got the ick and couldn’t roll with him again. He was an accountant or something, and it just put me off.
You can mix it up though — try an arm bar and see if that gets them chatting a bit more. But I wouldn’t risk it to be honest, you might lose a good training partner.
That’s all for this instalment, my pliable little paradoxes.
May your frames be sturdy, your egos briefly silent, and may the higher belts compliment you just enough to keep you addicted.
Hydrate. Stretch. Lie if you must.
And if Belinda starts drilling berimbolos at your gym, it’s already too late.
Hovering,
Staphenie
xoxo
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Staphenie’s wisdom astounds me