Well Deserved, Sir

The one that didn't feel empty

Well, well, well…

Something I genuinely wasn’t anticipating to happen, happened.

Your boy got his purple belt!

I started Jiu Jitsu in 2022 with a group of my mates in Glebe Town Hall twice a week. After some internal drama with the cult I was involved with at the time — you can read more about that in the article below — this changed to a bloke’s garage and puzzle mat combo for the next 12 months, where I received my blue belt.

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By the point of getting my blue, I had already made up my mind that I was going to ditch this arrangement and find myself a proper gym, with guys who could actually teach me something.

I had fallen in love with this weird little niche sport, and combined with the disdain I had for my teacher MJ, I couldn’t wait to find a legit place to practice.

By 2023 I had found my home; Partizan Grappling in Kingsford.

Knowing I was quite possibly the worst blue belt there, I made up my mind to just own it and keep training until I wasn’t.

Almost three years later, I teach my own class every Thursday. I have an amazing group of people around me and have invested every skill point I have into my game of open guard and leglocks.

Slowly but surely, I got better. I watched instructionals, studied people whose game I admired and tried to emulate (shoutout Chris Wojcik) taking bits and pieces from people I met or watched and implementing them into my own individual style.

I’d still get smashed, especially learning to play guard. But over time I found solutions to those problems and got smashed a little less. Soon I was able to give our higher belts a decent run for their money, and even grab a couple of sneaky submissions on people I had no right to be tapping.

I watched our new white belts grow and develop, and celebrated with them as they received their blue belts in front of the class, reaching the same rank as me.

Which brings me to something I’ve carried with me for a long time.

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When I did Taekwondo as a kid, we were running late to the class where I’d find out if I passed my black belt grading. The teacher would tell each person individually whether they passed so they weren’t anxious all class — and to avoid any disappointment. We rolled up after he’d already told all of my mates they’d passed, and my bestie at the time ran up to me all excited.

“Sam, I got my black belt!”

The first words out of my mouth were “What about me?”

One of the coaches put his hand on my shoulder. “Why was that the first thing you asked? Can’t you be happy for your friend?”

It was one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned.

“Sorry Ryan, congratulations! I’m so happy for you. I hope I’ve passed too!”

I’m not throwing shade on my younger self — I was about 15, and most teens are selfish little gits, plus it was a big moment I’d been working toward for years. But it was a very important lesson in not making someone else’s achievement about yourself.

I carried that with me two decades later as more white belts graduated to blues and our little community kept growing. I clapped for and hugged every single one of them, all while staying locked in and continuing to seek my own improvement each week.

Now, I’m still human. As more time went on I found myself daydreaming about the coveted purple belt.

Purple belt is no joke. You’re not a beginner anymore, you’re not just ‘good at Jiu Jitsu’. You start to become dangerous in your own language. People listen to purple belts. You have respect from others who know how difficult this sport can be.

Injuries, plateaus, skin infections, getting smoked at competitions, turning up each night even when you can’t be arsed — all while developing your own weird little game piece by piece.

It’s a big deal.

Plus it’s my favourite colour and I was dying to wear purple training gear.

So when a few of my fellow blue belts began to get promoted, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered if I was due at some point in the near future.

It was an interesting dichotomy. I genuinely didn’t care that I wasn’t up there with them — belts are ultimately meaningless and I was very happy settling into my rank and being “the guy who leglocks people.” I’d said on numerous occasions I was happy to just keep training and improving.

And at the same time, I’d feel a little pang of disappointment. Getting my blue belt had felt empty and undeserved — given to me by a bald prick who delighted in heel hooking me each week without ever teaching me how to defend it. My blue belt felt like a retention tactic over any genuine reward for hard work.

Seeing my mates get recognised by people who were legitimate authorities in the sport, who’d trained for decades combined — that was something I wanted too.

A couple of weeks back the coaches group chat lit up.

“What do we think of M getting his purple soon?” The gym owner began.

“Yes. As soon as humanly possible.” Our black belt replied.

I thought M was a bloody purple belt already.

“YES! He’s so good!” I put my two cents in.

“Ok, let’s lock in Sam’s class next Thursday. I’ll tell him I need to film a testimonial for the ad campaign.”

I was keen. M is amazing at grappling and an even better training partner. I love sparring with him and always leave our rolls with something new to work on. He was well, well overdue for a promotion.

And it was going to happen in my class. I couldn’t wait.

We finished up the session and I told everyone to stay on the mats. I lined up with the coaching team in front of them, unable to hide the smile on my face.

Our black belt chatted about how he’d wanted to give this out for a long time, how well deserved it was, how purple is a very special belt, how you’re the real deal now and how great he felt receiving his own.

He said M’s name and everyone erupted in cheers.

The belt was tied around his waist and we all gave him big hugs and congratulations.

Then our black belt started chatting again.

Ooooh, I didn’t know we were doing some more. I reckon we’ve got another blue belt or two.

“This guy came to us as a blue belt…”

Huh. Ok, another purple, sick.

“He’s one of the few people here who chose a game and put all of his efforts into it. Learning from anywhere he could…”

Who is he talking about?

“...he started this sport a little later in life…”

…….

“...and now of course we have him teaching…”

Wait…wait…

“This next purple is for our boy Sam.”

I didn’t believe it. I heard my name and everyone was staring at me, but I didn’t believe it.

“Me?” I looked at the other coaches.

They nodded and laughed.

I’d been had. The oldest trick in the book. The owner had told M that I was being promoted to get him to show up, and told me that M was being promoted. Classic swindle.

I WAS A FUCKING PURPLE BELT.

It was hard not to cry, and I don’t think I did a great job of hiding it. But I didn’t care — I had worked so hard and it mattered to me.

This one doesn’t feel empty. It doesn’t feel undeserved. I’ve put a lot of myself into this sport and kept coming back through all the other chaos. Sometimes training hard, other times struggling to get there, often questioning myself — but I kept turning up.

The passion I have for this sport has hit a new level and I cannot wait to grow into this belt like I did my previous one. I couldn’t be happier with the people around me helping me along the way.

I now have permission to become even more of a problem for my training partners.

Blue belt Sam: “I’ve got some nasty leglock stuff.”
Purple belt Sam: “I’ve been thinking…”

I’ll wrap this up with the text I got from my coach that evening, after sending him a personal thank you message.

“Well deserved, sir. Any insecurity will just fuel you.”

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As I obnoxiously make this new belt my entire personality, I have to point out the glorious shade of purple the tropical flavour comes wrapped in. I even got an entire box of the one flavour because its so damn tasty!

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