The Art of Coarse Fencing

Part II

How to Succeed in Coarse Fencing Competitions

by Ted Bourne

The Entry
The first thing you must do, of course, is to send in your entry. There are three kinds of coarse entry. The first is a late entry-that is, one which arrives less than three months before the competition. The second is an early entry; these are virtually unheard of, and in any case are usually lost in the post. The third, and best, is a "personal" entry (available to organizers and their friends only).

The Pool Sheet
If you succeed in getting your entry accepted you will receive a "pool sheet". This is a legal document which arrives a week after the competition and is full of disclaimer clauses about fencers being maimed by the electrical equipment. The pool sheet will also include a lot of incorrect information supposedly about the venue, date and time of the competition. This is put in to prevent too many fencers turning up and wrecking the organization.

The Venue
You should be warned about your first sight of a fencing venue. If your experience with your club hasn't taught you better you may be expecting the venue to be a cross between, say, Crystal Palace and the Houston Astrodome. Be prepared for a nasty shock, particularly if you will be seeing the venue for the first time early on a Sunday morning when you may be feeling a little delicate.

Venues vary a lot, from huge concrete schools and sports centres (where half the competitors get hopelessly lost), through chilly mediaeval town halls with stone pillars in the middle of the piste, to the canteens of dusty factories where a badly- aimed flèche can land you in the remains of yesterday's meat and two veg. Your biggest surprise, however , may come when you first venture up to "Headquarters".

Having been politely asked to leave by a flunkey at the Queen's Club (most people go to the Queen's Club at their first try in mistake for the A.F.A., and have to suffer the contemptuous stares of rackets players, real tennis players, and practitioners of other major sports) you trudge round the corner and pass through an impressive gate. You enter the ante-room, where deceptively comfortable-looking couches have caught many a visitor who sat in them too quickly. You then pass through into an icy, cavernous hall, festooned with cobwebs and dusty paintings of aged men in black knee breeches. (Sometimes there are real aged men in knee breeches.)

The windows are scientifically designed to allow plenty of light in at eye level, and to add extra interest the floor is slightly uneven. If you feel sleepy you can use one of the bedsteads thoughtfully provided by the BBC, who periodically use the A.F.A. for rehearsals, and not only strew the place with props but also disrupt sabre competitions by putting strange stage markings all over the pistes.

You should not be daunted by all this; take yourself of to the changing room (follow your nose) and get kitted up for the start of the event. I should perhaps mention the usual timetable for this:

The President
When the first round does get under way you will meet someone called "the President" (not necessarlly Mary Glen-Haig). In most coarse events an "organiser" will rush up to the motley group milling about the piste and shout: "You don't mind presiding yourselves, do you?" He will then drop the Pool-Sheet and vanish through a door marked "Officials Only". Sometimes, though, a number of public-spirited (or weak-minded) people will have been brow-beaten into presiding.

Presidents need not allow complex and confusing "Rules" to cloud their judgment but they should know certain key words such as "Play" , "Halt" and "I'm sorry, I have no opinion." In sabre, "Break!" may also be useful.

You should study your president and behave accordingly. If he seems weak, all sorts of possibilities open up. One fencer who, having been hit quite validly by a flèche which left him helpless on the floor , said to the President very firmly "I assume you are goIng to apply the appropriate rule". The President, not wishing to appear a fool, promptly annulled the hit.

A strong president must, of course, be treated wIth cringing deference, although fencers of more passionate temperament (such as Mr. Mafioso) tend to so1ve disagreements wIth presidents by more robust methods.

Tactics - Before the fight
Once the President has checked that no one is wearing a plastron and has explained the imaginary "warning" and "rear" lines, the pool can start in earnest. Most coarse fencers will need no advice on how not to be promoted (when the competition's running late and your table's booked for 7.30) but the following hints may help when it is essential to get through (to avoid mowing the lawn).

Start with "on-the-piste" testing. At foil, test your weapon by plunging it painfully into your opponent's chest. This is remarkably demoralising (make sure of course that you test second). When your opponent tests, hold your coquille subtly against your lamé jacket. This will stop your opponent's foil from registering and with careful stage management you can force your opponent to change his foil, bodywire, spool and virtually everything e1se before you stop.

Also, if you should by chance be wearing a perfect lamé jacket, find the green spot under your opponent's left armpit, and then insist he change his jacket. He won't have a spare one and will rush round the hall trying to borrow someone else's while you stand around looking smug.

The present lack of electric sabre reduces these possibilities at that weapon, but the fact that you're allowed actually to slosh your opponent more than makes up for it.

Tactics - the Fight
When both fencers have repaired their weapons the fight can begin. In some coarse fights the effect of the word "Play" is not immediately apparent, both fencers remaining virtually motionless for some time. The president will in these cases pass the time by chatting to a friend, or - especially at epée- snoozing quietly. (One president dreamt that he was presiding the world epéefinal and woke up to find that he was.) In most coarse fencing venues the pistes are so close together that the presidents will be dancing a perpetual quadrille to get past each other , and when one shouts "Halt!" fights on the three nearest pistes will stop. Watch out for such moments, as they provide excellent opportunities for getting a hit on an unsuspecting opponent.

There are, naturally, other kinds of coarse bout. If one of the fencers is a "Battering Ram" (see Part I) the word "Play" becomes unnecessary, since at the command "On Guard" he will hurtle forward wIth a shriek and maim his opponent before the president can intervene.

You too can make good use of the shriek, shouting after every movement regardless of hits. One well known French fencer used, when he hit with a flèche, to finish off his "Héla" as he ran into the distance wIth a trail of mocking "ha-ha-ha-ha-ha's"- most demoralising.

During the course of a bout you may become fatigued and feel lIke a rest. Should this occur, don't worry; in one fight you can: tie your shoe-lace; pull up your sock; tighten your weapon; button your glove; do up your jacket; zip up your breeches; wipe your face with a towe1; brush your hair back off your forehead; adjust your mask-spring; have a drink; remove fluff from the end of your nose; tie your other shoe-lace - and pull up your other sock.

In extreme cases you can feign cramp for a ten-minute rest. If this isn't enough, an "injury" will get you twenty minutes, but be careful not to fake it so convincingly that you find yourself in a casua1ty ward before you can stage your recovery.

During the intervals you will, I'm afraid, actually have to fight. The classic aim of fencing is, of course, "to hit without being hit" or, in the succinct words of Aldo Mario Mafioso, "to fIx-a da other guy before he fix-a you." FencIng Masters try to weave a mystique about this simple objective, but in modern fencing the secret really lies in the judicious use of the unarmed hand: parrying with it. covering the foil target, or simply grabbing your opponent's blade (mind those nasty splinters!).

You shou1d keep a close eye on the scorekeeper to avoid being diddled. Watch out for the novice who thinks that every time that pretty red light comes up at your opponent's end it is one up to him and writes down all your wins as losses. When you appeal to your opponents at the end of the pool they will smirk apologetically and say they really can't remember if you beat them or not,.

This leads on to the "combine" or nasty foreign habit of fight-throwIng. With this no true British fencer will have anything to do. You shou1d take a lesson, however, from that well-known true story of the British foilist at Munich who, having lost most of his fights, had his last bout against a strong Russian who badly needed to win. Our lad nearl1y killed himself tryIng to win the fight, but went down five-two. The Russian then came up and fervently thanked him for throwing the fight. If this should happen to you, smile serenely and mutter, "That's one you owe me."

The Lunch Break
There can be no doubt that with the benefit of the above advice you will easily be promoted, and when the organizers have checked your indicators to prove this you can go off for lunch. You will notice that the rain has now stopped, and in the glorious sunshine non-fencers are frolicking and sunbathing and pointing mockingly at those strange characters stuck indoors in four layers of clothing.

In order not to over-tax the fencers several hours will be allowed for lunch, at the end of which time the organisers will without warning demand your immediate presence on the piste-thereby saving you from tiring warming-up exercises.

Fencers are very sensitive about outside noise during a bout, and so it is considered good manners to leave the competition immediately you are eliminated. In this way the six finalists, the President and the dignitary who has been roped in to present the medals will be left to hold the final in peace. The final, especially in provincial and foreign events, will usually start at midnight. There are consolations, however , in staying to the bitter end-for example, you can enjoy the embarrassment of the organiser's wife as she draws her husband's tickets for all three prizes in the raffle.

The End of the Day
When the competition - or your part in it - does draw to a close, the great reward (after beer) is a nice shower. Most coarse fencing venues provide showers catering for every taste: one for people who only like boiling water, one for people who only like freezing water, and the special "dry' shower.

When you have cleaned and tidied up and reported the theft of your wallet you can pick up your kit (wet through and twice as heavy) and make your way home. On Monday morning, of course, everyone will want to know how you did. You should always tell your results in a tone of great pride and satisfaction, and don't say "l went out in the first round," but "l made the one-sixty-fourth final." They won't have a clue what this means, but they'll assume, since you're looking so pleased with yourself, that it must have been brilliant. This won't wash, however, with your fencing friends. With them you will have to explain how your kneecap/quarte-riposte/ president played you up/let you down/was blind as a bat. They will understand this short-hand, and probably not press the matter further.

Conclusion
I do hope the suggestions listed above will prove useful, but l should add one one word of warning, And how better than to use the immortal words of Aldo Mario: "Don't-a try it on-a meV"