Behind the Pisté: Lunge

To better understand what fencers around the world share in common, I wanted to first learn more about fencers from different countries. Before heading to Europe, I got in contact with some women from the United States who competed at the national level in saber before the event was added to the Olympic roster. Both women fenced at the NCAA level in college, which- at the time- was essentially the highest level of competition for women’s saber in the United States. When my train emptied in Stuttgart- and after I checked into my new hostel- I looked over the results of these interviews.

     One of the women stated that she started fencing later than most collegiate fencers start- as a high school student. She told me a story about how she was playing basketball, but really did not enjoy it. When she found the kids practicing fencing in the cafeteria, she wanted to switch to fencing almost immediately. She reported the group was an “oddball collection of individuals,” which she felt “very at home with.” The other woman started as a nine year-old who met with early success in fencing, which was essential for her enjoyment of the sport.

     When asked about unique rituals that set their clubs apart from others, one of the women recalled her club’s ritual of stealing weird things from competitors (or I suppose raiding might be the right word here), which included at least once a bench from Harvard’s locker room. The other recalled less pirate-like rituals related to warming up and psyching themselves up before competitions.

     Both agreed on how translatable the language and lessons of fencing can be for young people. Beyond the universal concepts of dealing with defeat and being respectful in victory, fencing requires a massive amount of fast thinking. It requires an ability to read body language as a means of predicting the immediate future. Some people often connect fencing and chess- often nicknaming fencing “physical chess.” I never actually thought that was correct though, and many fencers also dissent on the analogy.

     For me, fencing was more like sudoku with a three-minute time limit. Each box only has a limited number of options, and a person can decipher which numbers go where depending on context clues presented by preexisting numbers. But on a time limit, a person has to be fluent in reading the numbers on the page and take serious risks in guessing what to put where in order to finish in time. That’s how fencing works.

     In the sport of fencing, there are only three things a fencer can do on their feet- move forward (known as advance), move backward (known as retreat) or launch themselves forward (known as a lunge). There are only nine attacks (though in each weapon, there are only ever really four or five that are used- and these five differ for each weapon), and nine defenses (known as parries). Just like sudoku, there are a massive number of possibilities that result from the combination of nine attacks, nine defenses, and three-foot movements. And a good fencer has to be able to make split-second decisions as to how to combine these three things in order to win in their sport.

     I also spoke with two internationals- Manon Brunet of France and Martina Criscio of Italy- who told me more about their experiences in fencing. (I was disappointed at the lack of locker room raid stories from these two.) Both began fencing at eight years old. Brunet of France told me that before joining, she tried various other sports (including taekwondo) before ending up in fencing. Both started first with foil before entering saber later on.

     In fencing, there are three categories for competition (much like the way track and field has different events) known as weapons. These are foil, epee, and saber. Most people who start fencing begin with foil- and this aspect of the sport in and of itself is a long tradition. Fencing as a sport itself is a sport of tradition. In fact, most fencing coaches are known as Maestro or Master instead of coach or instructor. Each of the three different weapons in fencing derives from three different origins. Foil- the weapon most people begin with when first starting in the sport- derived as a training weapon. (Thus the training weapon is still used today in fencing as the training weapon. Simple and easy to remember.)

     Foil came about during the Medieval Period when infantry were given cheap swords to use on the battlefield. Since infantry were likely to die fairly quickly (the literal pawns of Medieval warfare- in that the pawn chess piece is historically derived from Medieval infantry), most weapon smiths did not want to waste time or resources on weapons that would end up in a dead man’s hands. Thus these swords were lightweight, usually short, and could only penetrate simple armor with simple stabs.

     These infantry were trained to use this sword with minimal effort- often simply telling soldiers to aim for the lungs and the kidneys of their opponent. These four targets (two lungs and two kidneys) are now the primary targets for attack in foil fencing. The sword itself is the most lightweight of the three weapons, and attacks are usually simple lunges or extensions of the arm.

     This may also be a good time to interject with information about my lack of source references in the above paragraph. Fencing- as per tradition- is a sport largely of oral history. Growing up in the sport, a young athlete might be training with a maestro who learned their knowledge from someone who trained them, and that maestro learned it from someone who trained them.

     Snippets of oral history often get thrown in- like the story about foil’s origin- with little to know written record. The very concept that I myself am writing a book on fencing actually goes against the tradition of the sport, so we’ll see if USA Fencing decides to not renew my membership this season. Thus, there will be times I refer to unique facts about the sport that have no source added to them, and it is due to the fact that it is a story my own “maestro” aka dad told me.

     After a year or two, most fencers will usually begin exploring the other two weapons and after finding one they like, they will commit to training in only that weapon. Both Criscio and Brunet committed to saber by the time they were old enough to seriously compete in the sport. Saber is a weapon derived from- as you can probably guess- sabers. The saber (or sabre as more traditionalists like to spell) is a cavalry sword meaning it was used by horse-mounted troops.

     While in the saddle, the saddle itself would protect riders from attacks to the groin, legs, and feet. Thus the target for saber is everything above the waist. (In foil, the target also includes the groin- because infantry were not trained to be polite.) The sport of saber derived as a way to train cavalry officers how to fight if they ever fell off their horse. The cavalry saber utilizes the blade of the sword as a weapon instead of just the tip, and so in saber the side of the sword can be used to gain points. (This is the only weapon where this is permitted.)

     Even though I did not speak with any international epeeists, I will go ahead and describe epee’s origin here as well. (Since I’m already at 66% at this point.) Epee is the only weapon of the three that actually derived from dueling. While foil and saber were military weapons (infantry and cavalry respectively), epee was a civilian weapon used by aristocrats in Renaissance Europe for duels.

     Duels during this time were not fought until one person was dead- as most historical dramas would lead their audience members to believe. Duels were fought to what is known as first blood, which meant that the first person to bleed lost the duel. If both people bled first simultaneously, the duel was called as a draw or tie. In epee, if two people hit at the same time, they both get a point- and this is unique to epee. (Foil and saber have a right of way system I will explain later.)

     Also, the button on the tip of the epee is stiffer than for foil. The amount of pressure it would take to depress the button on an epee is the exact same amount of pressure it would take for a sharp tip to penetrate the skin and make a person bleed. (Tradition!) Also, since there were no rules as to where on the body a scar had to appear for a duelist to lose, epee is the only weapon of the three in which the entire body is a target. (As in toes, knees, and pinky fingers are all fair game.)

     While in Stuttgart, I managed to maintain a strict ritual of waking up, getting coffee in the hostel lounge, taking notes on articles, getting lunch in the hostel lounge (with a beer), taking a nap, waking up, drinking another coffee in the afternoon, taking notes on more articles, getting dinner in the hostel lounge (with two beers), taking more notes on more articles, then going to bed. In the two nights I was in Stuttgart, I never left the hostel. But my loyalty to agoraphobia paid off. The bartender who worked in the hostel lounge enjoyed asking me questions about women in fencing and enjoyed bragging about his country’s women’s national soccer team- so much so that he usually gave me a free beer each night.

     After two nights in Stuttgart, I boarded another train and headed to Leipzig for the World Championships. Most of the athletes at this time were sharing similar experiences. After a week of intense training ahead of the tournament, various athletes began taking to social media to report on their two days of freedom before the big event. French fencer Ysaora Thibus referred to this as “The calm before the storm,” with an instagram update. Italian fencer Rossella Fiamingo posted videos of pre-game dancing and ice cream, and Martina Criscio posted images of her road trip through Italy. After two days of pregame R&R, my train pulled out of the station in Stuttgart and headed towards Leipzig.

     My train towards Leipzig required a layover in Frankfurt with only a small window of time between switching trains. As my train unloaded in Frankfurt, I immediately rushed to the platform where my next train would finally bring me to Leipzig. While standing on the platform waiting for the train to pull in, I saw a beautiful woman. When the train pulled in, she immediately boarded, and I somehow managed to end up sitting next to her.

     (*Somehow in this context meant that I boarded the car in front of hers to find her leaving her car and following me towards where I was sitting. So don’t think for a second I was creeping my way across Europe for a month.) As the train departed the station, I followed it on my mobile map to estimate how soon I would be in Leipzig only to find out the train was heading back towards Stuttgart. When the ticket checker came by to look at our tickets, I panicked. Luckily, the man spoke fluent English and helped me figure out what went wrong and told me which station to get off at. To even greater luck, the cute girl seated next to me spoke fluent English as well.

     “Are you lost?” she asked.

     “Uhhhhh,” I uttered in nervousness. “Yeah, I guess I am.” (In reality, I wasn’t, but when a beautiful local woman offers to give me directions; I accept those directions one hundred percent of the time.)

     “Where are you from?” she asked.

     “Alaska,” I replied.

     “Wait, really?” she asked. “Do you know Wasilla?” she continued.

     “Are you serious?” I responded confusedly. “Of course I know Wasilla! How do you know where Wasilla is?”

     The woman started telling me a story about how she did a student exchange program in 2009 while in high school at a school in Wasilla (a small town outside of Anchorage, Alaska for those uneducated in Alaska geography), and we started talking about life in the state which I now call home. Wasilla helped find me a train that would take me from the station I would be dropped off at that would bring me all the way to Leipzig. After exchanging instagram contacts, I left the train and Wasilla wished me luck catching the next one.

     On the next train, I managed to follow directions and got on the right train this time to find yet another beautiful woman opting to sit next to me. (Europe, you’re amazing.) This woman was a veterinarian from Uruguay who also spoke near-fluent English- though I felt the need to speak Spanish at some points. Eventually I made it to Leipzig on time, but it is important for me to note that in anthropology; few plans ever become reality.

     It is common for someone trying to take a train from Stuttgart to Leipzig (metaphorically of course) to get on the wrong [metaphorical] train. Some people might get anxious and upset and even a little scared as to what to do next. But a well-trained anthropologist not only performs well and calmly under such stressful situations, but also enjoys them. I met two incredible women- an airline steward from Germany and a veterinarian from Uruguay who were both incredibly generous and incredibly badass- and I never would have met them if I took the correct train.

      My first twenty-four hours in Leipzig however were not as easy. I ended up making it to my hostel in time and went almost immediately to sleep upon arriving after an exhausting trip across the country. After waking up, I left the hostel in the morning to collect my press badge and informational packet from the arena where the fencing tournament would take place. The story of what unfolded there requires its own preface.

     In May, I saw that it was free to apply for press accreditation for the event. I had never actually had press access at any of my previous studies (sitting with the audience at the Women’s World Cup and at rodeos), but since it was free to apply; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. The application process required that I upload a photo for my badge, fill out my name and home nation, and list the organization I represented.

     The problem is I wasn’t representing any organization. But it was a required field in the application process, so I decided to type the name of my website- which in all seriousness is a legitimate website that highlights feminist history, but is also called “Wonder Woman Wednesday.” I remember distinctly uttering under my breath while filling the application out, “There’s no way these guys are going to say yes.”

     Two days later, I received an email telling me my application was approved. Two months later, I was in line at the Arena Leipzig to collect my press badge when the staff told me they couldn’t find it and had to look up my name in their system. Evidently, I was actually denied access to the tournament’s press corps because they thought I was a spammer- and every journalist who applied was given an accidental email within 48 hours of their appliance telling them they were approved.

     I was suddenly thrust into a situation in which I had to prove that I was in fact an anatomically modern human with human parts, that my website was in fact a legitimate website, that my research was in fact legitimate feminist anthropology, and that I was in fact deserving of the highly coveted press badge. (It didn’t help that even I didn’t believe any of that.) Luckily, the venue decided to approve of my press accreditation and I walked back to my hostel with a newly printed press badge. (Like a freaking champ!)

     I feel the need to be an honest field researcher and anthropologist- even though the American Anthropological Association will probably ban me for life after this. After getting the second email, my immediate thought was, “Well I’ll just delete that second email, and show them the original; and if they asked if I got a second email, I’ll lie and say no.”

     I felt pretty good about that plan until I actually started talking to the tournament organizers when I realized they might ask if I had a work visa or special travel visa to be at the tournament for my book. I usually adhere to a strict “Don’t make too many waves” policy while on field studies because I’m not quite sure if I actually need special permission to research these topics in foreign countries- and at airport customs I usually just tell the officials that I’m traveling “To watch some sports.”

     While the middle-aged German woman at the arena questioned me about my accreditation, I feared at best they would take my photo and ban me from entering the arena- and at worst call the police and fly me back to the US. Luckily, my luck lasted longer than my deodorant and I walked away with a press badge. (So any of you would be anthropologists reading this- learn from my mistake.)

     I was not the only person though- vying for an opportunity to gain entrance to the 2017 Fencing World Championships. In fencing, the top one hundred twenty-eight athletes in the world in each event (weapon) for each gender (men and women) were permitted to compete in the tournament. Those athletes had to qualify for this position through a combination of overall international rankings and performance in zonal championships (for example the PanAmerican Games).

     Those in the top thirty-two positions were automatically in the tournament while those ranked 65-128 had to qualify on site for entrance into the round of sixty-four. On the first two days of the tournament, men and women from around the world competed for the opportunity to compete in the main tournament through participation in “pools” for the round of one hundred twenty-eight in each gender/weapon category for the individual events.

     In most fencing tournaments, each event is broken down into two sections- the pools round and the direct elimination round. In the pools round, fencers are placed into groups of anywhere between five and seven athletes who must fence each person in their “pool” in a bout. These “pool bouts” have both a time limit and a score limit. If at any time one fencer reaches five points- that fencer wins the bout and the bout ends. Alternatively- if three minutes of game time pass without either fencer reaching five points, the fencer with the highest score wins the bout. (In saber, there is no time limit- and I will explain why later on.)

     In direct elimination bouts, there are three rounds of three minutes each with a one minute break between each round- making for a total of nine minutes of game time. Two athletes fence until one reaches fifteen total points or whoever has the highest score at the end of those three rounds. In saber there is no time limit and there are only two rounds. Fencers compete until one reaches eight total points, then there is a one-minute break, then the bout continues until one fencer reaches fifteen total points.

     One of these athletes trying to qualify in the pools round was a seventeen year-old girl named Freya Clarke from Australia. After qualifying for entrance into the round of sixty-four, I spoke with Freya and her mom in the stands as they watched other bouts in the arena. Freya explained to me how she was the only Australian woman who qualified for the tournament for her event (foil), and that it took a lot of resources for her to make it to Germany to compete. After she left to change out of her gear, her mom spoke to me more about the pressure her daughter was under.

     “Nobody back home really cares,” her mom told me.

     “Really?” I asked surprisingly.

     “She doesn’t get any recognition,” her mom spoke. “Not even her high school cares that she’s competing at this high of level.” Freya’s mom then continued to talk about how difficult it was just to get her daughter into the World Championships. The zonal tournament- the Asian Games- brought female fencers in from Korea, China, and Turkey- all countries with strong female fencers. Freya was able to qualify for world championships among some of the best fencers in the world.

     On top of that, Freya and her mom then had to finance their trip to Leipzig out of pocket. The Australian government financed the men’s foil team because they performed well at the Rio Olympics, but the government gave only pocket change to Freya and other Australian women at the tournament. (The equivalent of $500 US per female athlete, which is not even enough to pay for half of a plane ticket.)

     “You know,” Freya’s mom added near the end of the conversation. “She doesn’t even want to be famous.” Her mom paused. “But it would be nice for people to at least notice her. To notice how much she’s accomplished just by being here.” And with that, Freya returned from changing out of her gear. We said goodbye to each other and I wished Freya good luck in the tournament before they left.

     The message Freya’s mom told me stuck with me. It was in all regards the exact reason why three years ago I started this long journey into feminist anthropology. There is such a rich history of women who have achieved immeasurably powerful feats, but- due to a series of reasons (aka sexism)- many of these women’s names have been either forgotten or erased from history books. At seventeen years old Freya Clarke of Sydney, Australia qualified for the 2017 Leipzig Fencing World Championships. She made it as far as the round of 64, and- at the end of the whole tournament- she was the one athlete I was most proud to have met.

     On the first official day for women’s individual foil, Sabrina Massialas of the United States was struggling with a broken foot in an attempt to break into the round of thirty-two. During one bout, Massialas fell on the strip- barely able to stand on even one leg. After medical staff strapped her ankle with an entire role of medical tape, Massialas attempted to continue. After managing to “karate kid” her way through the first round, she was forced to abdicate and withdrew from the tournament to the applause of a respectful crowd.

     Massialas’ story was not unique either. There were a lot of injuries at the tournament and the majority of them were with female athletes. Now, a person’s immediate response to this might be to assume that female anatomically modern humans have weaker bone structures than males- or that perhaps they have weaker muscles or some other assumption based on biology and anatomy that would support their own subconscious sexism. That person could not be more wrong. Across sports, women often meet more injuries than their men counterparts due to the social pressures of sport.

     If a male athlete takes an injury and walks off the field, most people salute that player as a wounded hero. When a female athlete takes an injury that forces them off the field, they fall into the stereotype of women being weak. (You can learn all about this in literally every book I have or will ever write about women’s sports because it comes up in every sport.) This is why a male fencer will sustain a minor injury and wave over the medical staff while a female fencer might be in the middle of a bursting appendix and refuse to leave before the end of the round.

     A few days later, I somehow managed to sit next to the general manager for Team USA. I asked her how Massialas was recovering and she revealed that the fencer had entered the tournament with an already broken foot- meaning Massialas entered the World Championships with at least one broken bone. I waited until the manager left to utter under my breath, “Sabrina, go to the hospital.”

     On day one, I actually sat with multiple moms. (I should add here that I met the most success in trying to speak with athletes by first speaking with their mom- and almost every fencer’s mom was at the tournament.) At one point, I spoke with US saber fencer Jeff Spear’s mom during one of US foil fencer Margaret Lu’s bouts. Spear came by to talk to his mom and it turned into a three-way conversation about my work. There was one thing Spear told me that made me think about my research.

     “I almost think,” he said, “that the stories of the people who almost won are the most fascinating.”

     He explained that especially in women’s fencing, there were so many incredible women saber fencers before women’s saber was in the Olympics- meaning that there was really nobody around who cared enough to record their stories. There are also a lot of fencers who are in the top ten in their weapon in the world who do not get to compete at the Olympics even today.

     Only a max of two fencers per gender per weapon per country may compete in the individual events in fencing at the Olympics, which means if a woman is ranked fourth in the world and third in her country, she is not allowed to compete at the Olympics. Since nations like Italy, Russia, France, and the United States all have numerous and highly ranked women in fencing; the vast majority of the best fencers in the world never even compete at the Olympic Games.

     This situation ended up screwing over US foil fencer Nicole Ross who was ranked third in the United States just before the Rio Olympics but who was denied access to compete at the games. After the Olympics, she ended up consistently ranking in the top eight in the world in international competitions between the Rio Olympics and the Leipzig World Championships. At the Cancun World Cup in October 2016, Ross took the bronze medal.

     At the World Cup in St. Maur, Ross took the silver medal. At the Turin Grand Prix, Ross again took the silver medal. In fact, of the eight Grand Prix’s and World Cups for women’s foil in the 2016/2017 season, Ross medaled in three tournaments with top eight finishes in most. In comparison, Inna Deriglazova who earned the gold medal for Russia at the Rio Olympics medaled in the same season as Ross only four times. (That means, the top Olympic foil fencer of the season only made the semifinals fifty percent of the time- only once more than Ross for the season.)

     This made me seriously think about who and what I would actually end up writing about in my study. The reason why it was so hard for me to find historical women in fencing is because it is- even for the top fencers in the world- a sport of people who almost gained immortal status. While there are certainly fencers like the Nadi brothers (two Italian Olympians from the 1930’s considered by some to be the greatest fencers of all time), Valentina Vezzali (the actual greatest fencer of all time), and Mariel Zagunis.

     The sport itself is not one of sponsored swordswomen with the planning and financing committees of soccer. It’s a sport of women who- along with their parents- pay out of pocket for a chance at one singular moment of glory in a sport where names are quickly forgotten, success is rarely acknowledged, and where the medal podium is made up of men and women who don’t consistently place.

     In the Pre-Christian Greek religion, the mythological history of the world was divided among three groups of beings- the time of the gods (defined by the war between the Olympians and the Titans), the time of the demi-gods (defined by the stories of Herakles, Perakles, and Jason), and the time of the mortal heroes (defined by the Trojan War).

     Like with the mythological history of Ancient Greece, fencing too is a history of mythological figures. The old guard defined as the original Olympians of each weapon and gender has only one being still among the ranks of fencers today- Mariel Zagunis (the Highlander as I described her earlier). The second wave of greats who helped define the masters of the sport (such as the Valentina Vezzali and Laura Flessel) now command powerful roles in government in their home nations of Italy and France- respectively.

     Now is the era of heroes in fencing- the mortal beings burdened with the very mortality of their economic status in a sport where almost no one gets paid. There was a golden moment however when seated by Yana Egorian- a Russian saber fencer- in the stands, when a little girl came up to her and nervously asked her to sign a t-shirt the girl had bought at the tournament. Egorian smiled and signed the shirt for her young fan.

     At the heart of it all, that is why women’s fencing is so important- and why women’s sports in general are so important. These women- from Mariel Zagunis to Freya Clarke- inspire young women and girls in ways no desk jockey in a New York City office could ever experience. A simple autograph on a ten Euro t-shirt was enough for Egorian to help show that little girl how incredible women in sports can be- how many young girls one woman can inspire through athletic feats that prove just how badass women can be.

     After Sabrina Massialas withdrew from the tournament, all other US women foil fencers were finished for the day. It was also about lunchtime, so I used the momentary pause as an excuse to leave the venue and find some pizza. (The marathon continued.) It was especially hot that day in Leipzig, so I fanned myself in the pizza parlor with my handkerchief as I waited for my pizza to come with my sole companion- a tall glass of beer. After eating some of the best pizza in my life- and drinking a second beer of course- I rushed over to the barbershop across the street for a much-needed haircut and shave.

     I should note here that whenever people asked me where I was from on my trip, I would tell them Alaska. “Oh wow,” everybody would say, “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s from Alaska!”

     It’s a lot of pressure being someone’s first Alaskan. I didn’t even grow up there, and even further- the area of Alaska I live in isn’t really Alaska. Southeast Alaska is more like Olympia, Washington than Denali; so I don’t even consider myself a true Alaskan. With that being said, my facial hair at the time thought otherwise. It was long, scraggly, and could frighten away grizzly bears if necessary. It needed to go.

     After sitting down in the barbershop, I quickly discovered the barbers only spoke German and Turkish, which led to one of the most frightening moments of my life. Now, I’ve stared down territorial bison in Yellowstone, met a mother brown bear protecting her two cubs in the wilds of Alaska, and have been on the top of a mountain during a thunderstorm- none of those compared to this Turkish barber when his hair clippers went straight for my eyebrows.

     The Jaws theme played in my head as I prayed for any available deity of hair to give me my eyebrows back. Luckily, someone answered in the form of a one-inch filter on those clippers. The barber continued to give me one heck of a haircut and trimmed my beard nicely. For all three cranial haircuts, it only cost fifteen Euros. (One more disaster averted in the books!)

     After the terror of the Turkish barber, I decided I needed a nap (which really means after two thick beers at lunch, I needed a nap.) I went back to the hostel and laid my head down on the bed. When I woke up, I headed back to the arena for the opening ceremony and sat with a German fencing club visiting for the weekend to watch the tournament.

     Leipzig is known historically as an important city in the narrative of classical music (blah blah blah, I came here for sword stabbing!) so the opening ceremony was marked by a classical music concert and included a ring of flag-bearing children who were largely under qualified for their jobs. One of the kids was casually trying to hide the fact that he forgot his flag.

     Another boy struggled to hold the weight of the Brazil flag while trying to hide the fact that he desperately needed to use the restroom (failing to do either). While in Genoa, a group of Finnish girls introduced me to the term “struggle bus” referring to a person struggling in life. This young flag bearer was on the front seat of that struggle bus, and of course- like any serious anthropological researcher- I filmed him and shared it across social media. The German club and I made numerous jokes during the opening ceremony- like when the announcers only occasionally translated the speakers’ speeches into English.

     “You can tell they’re not saying anything important,” one person told me.

     “Why is that?” I asked.

     “Because even the announcers aren’t translating it!” he replied in jest.

     When the ceremony was finally over- and the flag bearers received their much needed bathroom breaks- the semi-finals for women’s individual foil began. The two bouts pitted Inna Deriglazova of Russia against Arianna Errigo of Italy and Alice Volpi of Italy against Ysaora Thibus of France. Deriglazova would end up with the gold medal for the event, with Volpi receiving the silver and Thibus and Errigo receiving the bronze. (In individual events in fencing, the two athletes who lose in the semi-final round tie for third and do not fencing in a “bronze medal bout.”)

     Inna Deriglazova was born in Kurchatov, Russia in 1990 and began fencing at eight years old. She later went on to receive a law degree from Southwest State University in Kursk, Russia. But Deriglazova’s greatest accomplishments to date have definitely been through her fencing career. In 2010, Deriglazova earned the bronze medal in the European championships. In 2012, she earned the gold medal at the European championships and the silver medal in the team event at the London Olympics.

     In 2013, Deriglazova earned the bronze at the World Championships in Budapest and later took the gold in 2015 at the World Championships in Moscow. The following year, Deriglazova took the gold medal at the Rio Olympics and in 2017 took the gold again (for three consecutive years) at the Leipzig World Championships after receiving the silver at the 2017 European Championships.

     Arianna Errigo was born in Italy in 1988 and began fencing at six years old. Like with most Italian fencers, Errigo as of 2017 was serving in the Italian Armed Forces- but her greatest accomplishments have come through her sport. Shortly before the Leipzig World Championships, Errigo earned the nickname “TsunAri (a play on words with the word tsunami) and for good reason. Between 2009 and 2017, Errigo earned three bronze medals and two gold medals at the European Championships; between 2005 and 2017, Errigo earned four bronze medals, three silver medals, and two gold medals at World Championships; and at the London Olympics in 2012, Errigo earned the silver medal.

     Alice Volpi was born in 1992 in Italy where she is currently a police officer. She began fencing in 2000 after her father suggested she try it out. Between 2009 and 2017, Volpi earned one bronze and two gold medals at the European Championships; between 2009 and 2017 earned one bronze, two silver, and one gold at World Championships; and as of 2017 has yet to compete at the Olympic level.

     Ysaora Thibus was born in Guadeloupe (a Caribbean island territory belonging to France) in 1991. There, she began fencing at seven years old before moving to France ten years later. Originally, Thibus wanted to be a ballerina, but after her mom brought little Ysaora and her brother to try a fencing class, Thibus quickly became addicted to stabbing other children with pointy swords and thus transitioned from princess to warrior princess. Between 2012 and 2017, Thibus earned two bronze medals at the European Championships; between 2009 and 2017 earned two bronze medals at World Championships; and competed in both the London and Rio Olympics finishing sixteenth and fifth places respectively.

     Historically, foil fencing is the longest existing women’s fencing event at the Olympics, which means that there is a long list of historic foil fencers from the women’s game. The top countries for producing female foilists have been Italy, Germany, Hungary, Russia, and Great Britain. These women include for Italy Irene Camber, Antonella Ragno-Lonzi, Maria Consolata Collino, Dorina Vaccaroni, Giovanna Trillini, Valentina Vezzali, Margherita Granbassi, Elisa di Francisca, and Arianna Errigo.

     For Germany were Helene Mayer, Olga Oelkers, Heidi Schmid, Helga Mees, Cornelia Hanish, Zita-Eva Funkenhauser, Sabine Bau, Anja Fichtel, and Rita Koenig; for Hungary Erna Bogen-Bogáti, Ilana Elek, Ildikó Újlaky, Ildikó Schwarczenberger, and Magda Maros; for Russia Valentina Rastvorova, Elena Novikova-Belova, Galiba Gorokhova, and Inna Deriglazova; and for Great Britain Gladys Davies, Muriel Freeman, Judy Guinness, and Gillian Sheen.

     Elena Novikova-Belova of Russia is actually the only woman in the history of the Olympics to earn the Pierre de Coubertin medal for outstanding sportsmanship and the advancement of the International Olympic Games, so- obviously- I’m going to talk about her. Novikova-Belova was born in Sovetskaya Gavan, Russia in 1947. She was the first woman to earn four Olympic gold medals in fencing.

     By the end of her Olympic career (which lasted from 1968 to 1980) earned a total of one bronze medal, one silver medal, and four gold medals. After the fall of the Soviet Union, Novikova-Belova moved to Belarus to advance women’s fencing there and for her work in improving the quantity and quality of women’s fencing in Belarus; Novikova-Belova earned the rarely awarded Pierre de Coubertin medal from the International Olympic Committee.

     While these countries dominated vertically (historically), a different set of nations dominated at foil fencing horizontally (contemporarily). Ahead of the World Championships, the top ten female foil fencers in the world were Lee Kiefer (USA), Arianna Errigo (Italy), Inna Derigazova (Russia), Ysaora Thibus (France), Nicole Ross (USA), Elisa di Francisca (Italy), Ines Boubakri (Tunisia), Hyunhee Nam (Korea), Astrid Guyart (France), and Eleanor Harvey (Canada). After wiping away the vertically excelling nations, this leaves the United States, France, Tunisia, Korea, and Canada as the emerging nations for women’s foil fencing.

     US and Canadian fencers typically train with each other- especially fencers in Toronto and New York City because of the close proximity. Tunisian women often go to France to train, so those two usually pair together like Canada and the US. Korea is a unique country for fencing however. [South] Korea relatively recently emerged into the sport of fencing and has been playing “catch-up” with the continent of Europe. These fencers have rapidly made a name for themselves in the sport as excellent fencers, but- due to the drive to raise the level of competition created in Europe over a hundred years- Korean fencing has a unique culture in the sport that ignores the European culture of the sport.

     Few Korean fencers adhere to the unofficial rules of the sport, which define the American and German styles (like not kicking one’s mask in anger). At one point during a men’s bout, a Korean fencer was ignoring completely the Western manners of the sport when he went over to an angry opponent and coy-fully tapped his shoulder in joust- which in all honesty should have actually been a penalty. (While watching, my response was simply, “fuck that guy.”)

     Essentially, in the modernization of Korean fencing, the masters of the sport in Korea have ignored the long standing traditions of the sport defined largely by tradition and oral history in an attempt to rapidly climb to a level of international success which took countries like Italy and Russia a century to advance to. Thus, while fencers from France may train with fencers from the United States or those from Ukraine might train with those from Great Britain; fencers from Korea rarely train with fencers from outside their country.

     On 22 July, I left the hostel once more and headed for the arena to watch the women’s individual saber. During the round of 32, Monica Aksamit of the United States was squaring off more against the referee than her opponent on the pisté. Even her coach was firing off on the referee over bad calls. In foil and saber fencing, when two fencers hit each other at the same time, only one person gets a point.

     The referee determines who wins the point through a series of rules known as “right of way” much like how when two cars arrive at a roundabout at the same time determine who pulls into the circle first. In right of way for both saber and foil, the fencer who begins the attack first wins the point with the exception that if there is a successful parry from the second attacker, the second attacker receives the point.

     This all sounds relatively simple, but a second statistic makes this incredibly more difficult. In the summer Olympics, there is only one piece of athletic equipment that moves faster than a fencer’s sword- and it is the bullet leaving a gun. (Which means technically, a fencer’s sword moves faster than an arrow leaving a bow.) When two saber fencers attack each other- it is usually done at the exact same time without any parries from either competitor, which leads the referee to make a “no-call” meaning neither person gets a point.

     The referee during Aksamit’s bout was making lots of no-calls and additionally made a lot of calls, which usually would award Aksamit the point- but instead went to her opponent. (In saber, an attack made with the sword while backing up- or retreating- is considered by most referees to not be an attack; as one cannot be on the attack and simultaneously running away. This referee thought differently.)

     Aksamit and her coach were so infuriated at the referee’s blatant ignorance at the common judgment for attacks that Aksamit received a red card penalty (in fencing this results in the fencer’s opponent receiving a free point) due to her coach yelling at the referee. Aksamit lost the bout, saluted her opponent and shook her hand, then left the strip in tears of outrage. This is a good time to talk more about fencing tradition. In fencing, there are a set of unofficial rules and official rules, which govern an athlete’s behavior.

     Minor rule breaks result in “yellow card” penalties- which function as warnings for unintended fouls (for example, a body chord that does not function properly). Intentional rule breaks result in “red card” penalties- which function as positive punishment for intentional fouls (like yelling at the referee) and result in a point awarded to the opposing fencer. Then there are “black card” penalties- which are heinous fouls committed. This can include throwing one’s mask, using foul language at an opponent or referee, or cheating; and results in the forced removal of the fencer from the tournament and can include other penalties like suspension for an extended period of time.

     There are also unofficial rules in fencing known only to people who have trained with Maestros who’s line of training with their own Maestros, etc goes back centuries. In the tradition of fencing, a fencer should never turn their back to their opponent (after a bout, a fencer should walk backwards from their opponent and maintain eye contact after shaking hands), should never speak directly to their opponent (addressing the referee if their opponent needs to tie her shoes or fix their equipment), and should never yell or shout during a bout.

     This collection of unofficial rules continues on, but it all revolves around the nature of the sport of that of respect. Whether infantry, cavalry, or aristocratic civilians; fencers historically were in a sport where they were required through laws of respect to honor their opponent in combat. This aspect of the sport is changing though, but for the most part most Americans adhere to the unofficial rules of respect in the sport.

     After Aksamit’s bout, she maintained respect for her opponent through these rules and while she was certainly not happy at the referee- nor was her coach (nor was I actually for that matter)- she adhered to the unofficial rules of respect for her opponent after the bout. Soon after, I started watching the Sara Balzer bout, but after the first round, she took a bad injury to the leg and had to withdraw from the competition. All of the saber fencers I went to watch were knocked out through either injury or defeat, but sitting next to me was yet another fencing mom- this time from the UK.

     She was watching the bouts with two fencers- one representing Great Britain (her daughter) and one representing India. The four of us talked about the expense of the sport and how many athletes have to choose between paying for the sport and having a job. Often in fencing the best fencer in the world will immediately stop competing not because of injury or because their athletic career has peaked, but because they can no longer afford to keep competing. That means the best swordswomen in the world are rarely ever actually at the Olympics or World Championships.

     In the case of women’s saber, the perfect example of one of these women in Rebecca Ward- known better as Becca Ward. In 2012 Ward was favored to win Olympic Gold at the London Games after her medal winning performance four years earlier in Beijing, but decided not to compete at all because she valued her education more and decided to graduate from college instead of taking a year off to train. Ward was at the time one of the greatest saber fencers in the world, but chose not to compete so that she could focus on school. She later went on to never compete at the Olympics again opting instead to accept a job in ecological protection in Oregon.

     The semi-finals for women’s saber would see Azza Besbes of Tunisia square off against Irene Vecchi of Italy and Cecilia Berder of France square off against Olga Kharlan of Ukraine. Besbes and Kharlan advanced into the finals with Kharlan finishing the tournament with the gold medal. Besbes earned the silver, and Berder and Vecchi earned the bronze medals.

     Azza Besbes was born in Tunisia in 1990 and started fencing at ten years old. Besbes was born into a fencing dynasty including both her mother and her sister who are both major names in women’s fencing- especially in their home nation of Tunisia. Both Azza and her sister moved to France early in their athletic careers because of the lack of financial support from their home country. Between 2007 and 2017, Besbes earned two silver medals and nine gold medals at the African Championships; between 2006 and 2017 won one bronze and one silver medal at World Championships; and competed in three Olympic Games in China, London, and Rio taking seventh, ninth, and sixth places respectively.

     Irene Vecchi was born in Italy in 1989 and began fencing at eight years old. Like with most Italian fencers, Vecchi is in public service as a police officer when not dominating at international competitions. Between 2007 and 2017, Vecchi won one bronze medal at the European Championships; between 2006 and 2017 won two bronze medals and one silver medal at World Championships; and competed at two Olympic Games in London and Rio finishing sixth and twenty-second respectively.

     Cecilia Berder was born in France in 1989 and began fencing in 1997. Berder now dual wields a sword in one hand as a fencer and a pen in the other as a journalist- meaning she probably laughs when people talk about which is more powerful. Berder aka “The Goat” originally wanted to become a mountain climber but settled for fencing because the rock climbing class was full that year. Berder has to date not earned any medals at any European Championships; but has between 2007 and 2017 earned one bronze and one silver at the World Championships; and finished in fifth place at her only to-date Olympics at Rio.

     Olga Kharlan was born in Ukraine in 1990 and began fencing at ten years old. Between 2007 and 2017, Kharlan won one bronze and five gold medals at the European Championships; between 2005 and 2017 won two bronze medals, two silver medals, and seven gold medals in World Championships; and competed in three Olympic Games in Beijing, London, and Rio earning the bronze in the latter two.

     Historically, saber fencing is the youngest women’s fencing event at the Olympics, which means that there is not a long list of historic saber fencers from the women’s event. The top countries for producing female saberists have been the United States, Ukraine, Russia, and China. These include for the United States Mariel Zagunis, Sada Jacobson, and Rebecca Ward; for Ukraine Olga Kharlan; for Russia Sofya Velikaya and Yana Egorian; and for China Tan Xue.

     While these countries dominated vertically, roughly the same set of nations dominate at saber fencing horizontally. Ahead of the World Championships, the top ten female saber fencers in the world were Yana Egorian (Russia), Anna Marton (Hungary), Manon Brunet (France), Jiyeon Kim (Korea), Olga Kharlan (Ukraine), Cecilia Berder (France), Mariel Zagunis (United States), Sofya Velikaya (Russia), Charlotte Lembach (France), and Irene Vecchi (Italy). After wiping away the vertically excelling nations, this leaves Hungary, France, Korea, and Italy as the emerging nations for women’s saber.

     When I returned to the hostel at the end of the day, I stopped into the pub on the first floor. It was the first night I was having dinner there, so I asked the bartender at the bar to suggest a dinner. He told me I should get the wild boar schnitzel with house-made sauerkraut. After eating the massive feast, the bartender and I talked about Alaska. Another bartender occasionally stopped inside between cigarettes to join our conversation, and I impressed them by talking about brown bears and the Sitka Spruce (a species of tree endemic to Southeast Alaska) and how beer brewers use it to make specialty beers in the state.

     That night, I found new roommates in my hostel in the form of yet another fencing club from Germany. This group was three men about my age (25 plus or minus three years) who also came for the weekend to watch the tournament. While the Germans slept in, I woke up early and headed to the arena to catch the women’s individual epee and found my roommates at the area shortly after my arrival. (Those bastards drove and made me take the bus like some kind of peasant.) The four of us sat down next to the Canadian women’s epee fencers Leonora Mackinnon and Vanessa Lacas-Warrick.

     The two both started fencing in Canada at seven and eight years old and met with early success in the sport- which they both credit as their chief reason for staying in the sport. They opened up about the culture of fencing in Canada which functions more like Alaska than the continental United States. In the US, there are fencing clubs almost everywhere. With the exception of places like Idaho and maybe Maine, almost every state in the continental US has numerous clubs where a kid can enter the sport and find options for which “Maestro” to train under.

     Competitions are mostly inter-club tournaments that pit anywhere from two to twenty clubs’ fencers against each other. Alaska- where I teach fencing- is much different. With so few clubs (five officially registered with the national body), most club tournaments are only intra-club and most fencers who want to compete seriously must compete at either the national level (which Alaska has some serious competition by the way) or at the international level.

     In Canada, it works about the same as in Alaska. There are few clubs- most centered in urban locations like Toronto and Vancouver- meaning fencers who want to compete regularly against people they do not train with must become national or international level competitors. (So, Vanessa and Leonora- if you’re reading this- you are always welcome to come slay in Alaska at one of our five clubs! But Sitka’s is the best.)

     When the women’s epee began, the two Canadian fencers told me of the four bouts about to begin, that the [Sarra] Besbes v [Lauren] Rembi bout would be the one to watch because “both fencers have a unique style, but are equally good- so it will be interesting to see who comes out on top.” At the competition, each bout of each round was usually going on at the same time- meaning during the round of sixteen, there were eight bouts happening at the same time. Thus, I had to focus only on about twelve percent of the total “action” unfolding in front of me- so unfortunately I had to make choices. Plus when the Canadians told me to watch one specific bout, I watched that bout.

     During a pause in the bout, I turned to one of the fencers and asked her if she had an arch nemesis in fencing. (I had a whole family when I was competing who were my arch nemeses, so I was always curious if other fencers had enemies in the sport.) “I can’t say I do,” one answered. “But you know, there is a lot of drama in women’s fencing.”

     “Really?” I asked.

     “Yeah,” she continued, but halted when the bout resumed.

     When the bout ended, the team had dispersed and I was not able to learn about the secret rivalries in women’s fencing. What I did piece together from an earlier conversation- with Jeff Spear’s mom aka Mama Spear- was that there was a rivalry between one US foil fencer and a Canadian foil fencer. (I’m hiding names here because I would prefer that neither one of these world-ranked experts of swords do not show up at my house and stab me with pointy objects.) She did not remember how the rivalry began, but it did shed light on the “underground” drama of fencing which happens away from the pisté.

     The semi-finals for women’s epee would see Olena Kryvytska of Ukraine face off against Ewa Nelip of Poland and Tatiana Gudkova of Russia face off against Julia Beljajeva of Estonia. Unfortunately I did not get to watch these bouts with the Canadians. Nelip defeated Kryvystka and Gudkova defeated Beljajeva to reach the gold medal bout leaving the other two to earn the bronze medals. In the final bout, Gudkova defeated Nelip to earn the gold and Nelip finished with the silver medal.

     Olena Kryvytska was born in Russia in 1987, but moved with her family to Ukraine after the fall of the Soviet Union. It was in her new hometown of Ternopil where she began fencing shortly after the move. As of 2017, Kryvystka has not yet won any medals at the European Championships between 2007 and 2017; has earned one bronze at World Championships between 2007 and 2017; and competed at two Olympic Games in London and Rio finishing thirty-first and fifteenth respectively.

     Ewa Nelip was born in Poland in 1989 and began fencing in fifth grade while in elementary school after seeing a recruitment poster at a local shop. Her fencing brought her all the way to the United States where she fenced at Notre Dame (a powerhouse in women’s fencing in the US) and even briefly worked as an NCAA coach for the collegiate team. Between 2008 and 2017, Nelip had not yet placed in any European Championships; between 2005 and 2017 earned two silver medals at World Championships; and has yet to compete at any Olympic Games.

     Tatiana Gudkova was born in Russia in 1993 and began fencing in 2002 after finding dissatisfaction in basketball, dancing, and gymnastics. Between 2010 and 2017, Gudkova earned one bronze and one silver medal at the European Championships; between 2011 and 2017, she earned three gold medals at World Championships; and has- as of 2017- not yet competed at any Olympic Games.

     Julia Beljajeva was born in Estonia in 1992 and began fencing ten years later when her aunt invited her to try the sport. Between 2009 and 2017, Beljajeva earned one bronze at the European Championships; between 2008 and 2017, she earned one bronze and one gold at World Championships; and competed at the Rio Olympics finishing at twenty-ninth place.

     Historically, epee is the “middle child” of women’s fencing at the Olympics, which means that there is a not a long list of historic epee fencers from the women’s event. The top countries for producing female epeeists have been France, Hungary, and China. These include for France Laura Flessel-Colovic, Valérie Barlois-Mevel-Leroux, and Maureen Nisima; for Hungary Gyoengyi Szalay-Horváth, Tímea Nagy, Ildikó Mincza-Nébald, and Emese Szász-Kovacs; and for China Sun Yujie and Sun Yiwen.

     While these countries dominated vertically, a different set of nations dominated at epee fencing horizontally. Ahead of the World Championships, the top ten female epee fencers in the world were Sarra Besbes (Tunisia), Emese Szász-Kovacs (Hungary), Sun Yiwen (China), Rossella Fiamingo (Italy), Tatiana Logunova (Russia), Injeong Kim (Korea), Irina Embrich (Estonia), Kong Man Wai Vivian (Hong Kong), Julia Beljajeva (Estonia), and Nathalie Moellhausen (Brazil). After wiping away the vertically excelling nations, this leaves the Tunisia, Italy, Russia, Korea, Estonia, Hong Kong, and Brazil as the emerging nations for women’s epee.

     That night, I decided to head back to the hostel’s first floor pub and talked with the bartenders again who- after my discussion of women in fencing- were beginning to pay attention to the news around the event. While talking to the bartenders, a man sitting nearby joined in before introducing himself as a Zen monk. He and I talked about what led me to becoming a researcher of women’s sports (and the very zen-like path that led me into it) as well as the different experiences of women and men in corresponding careers (including sport and religion). Since he was enjoying the conversation, the priest bought me more beers to keep me talking- and I never say no to free alcohol- so I stuck around until I was on the verge of falling asleep from both the time and the beer.

     The women’s individual epee was the last individual event for the tournament, which signaled the beginning of the team events. Team fencing events carry with them a combination of controversy and politics. At the Olympic level, team fencing events reached “full capacity” in that all three men’s and all three women’s events were in the games by 2004 when women’s saber was added to the roster.

     Since then, the International Olympic Committee thought it was a good idea to only allow four total team events out of six each Olympic Games- meaning one men’s event and one women’s event was cut from the games for that round of four year. Typically, the World Championships permit the Olympic Games to count as that year’s championships; but to maintain each event’s world championship bouts; the FIE has to host it’s own World Championships each Olympic year for only two events.

     What all this means is that since 2004, there are waves of elite athletes who get “snubbed” from competing at the Olympics because of the IOC’s “bright idea.” Luckily, the IOC decided this “bright idea” was not so bright after all and announced shortly before the 2017 Fencing World Championships that all six team events would be back at the Olympics for the 2020 Games in Tokyo.

     At the Rio Olympics, the two events denied from the games were men’s saber and women’s foil. These were also the first two-team events to play out at the Leipzig World Championships. When I arrived at the arena on 24 July, I sat down next to the general manager for Team USA to watch the USA men’s saber team square off against Georgia. We talked about how she ended up as the general manager (originally a manager for Team USA field hockey, then switched jobs when the position was available), about Sabrina Massialas’ recovery from the previous injury (and about Nzingha Prescod’s arrival as her alternate), and about the bout itself playing out before us.

     When the bout was over, I headed over to go watch the women’s team foil bouts and inadvertently ended up sitting behind Team USA athletes Race Imboden and Miles Chamley-Watson. These are certainly two interesting characters in the narrative of fencing’s history. Typically, it is rare that people can actually name historic fencers- since for such a long time it has been considered an amateur sport. In fact, most fencers themselves cite coaches and instructors as their role models rather than fellow athletes. That should make these two more impressive then, when I write that when I asked all the youth volunteers who their favorite fencers were- these two were the most common answers.

     Now, admittedly, I did not fangirl over these two as much as the twelve year-old girls at the tournament did; but I did notice a sort of stoic heroism in them. Apart from being the top fencers in the United States, being among the top fencers in the world, and- strangely enough- being runway models- there was one moment involving these two, which earned my high respect. Before the women’s foil bouts started, one of the men from the French team sat down next to these two to hang out. There was one team USA fencer (I’ll hide the name here), who walked by on her way to go practice in the warm-up area.

     As she walked past, the French fencer remarked, “Oh nice, there’s [insert name here].”

     “Yeah,” Chamley-Watson replied, “She’s a beast.”

     The Frenchman continued, “She’s so [beautiful].”

     The two American fencers then immediately went into a conversation about the fencer’s badass fencing records to shut that French fencer down- trying to explain her worth as a fencer instead of her worth as a sex symbol. As the two corrected their friend, I found myself nodding in respect from two rows behind. (And if either or both of you two are reading, well done guys.) With that, the USA vs China bout began. During the bout, Margaret Lu (USA) took a pretty nasty injury to the ankle- another injury at the tournament. When Nzingha Prescod came into the bout, the competition was pretty much over and the US won.

     After a brief lunch outside the arena, I returned to watch the next round of bouts, which included a bout between Italy and Germany that began with a sort of war dance from the Italian women. Since the tournament was being held in Germany itself, the German fans were in full force cheering and whistling as the team battled Italy for the chance to enter the semi-finals.

     In team events in fencing- two fencers (one from one team and one from the other) compete against each other, then switch to the next pair- like a batting order in baseball (but if there were only pitchers and batters and nobody else). In the team event there are nine total rounds, and the highest score possible is forty-five points. If one team reaches forty-five points before the end of nine rounds, that team wins; and if the time runs out in the ninth round, whichever team has the highest score wins.

     This becomes a bit more complicated at the round level. The first two competitors can only reach a maximum of five points before the next round of fencers. Imagine for a moment the pole vault competition where at the end of each round, the bar is brought to a greater height. The first round starts with a five-point limit for the team score, and that number increases by five each round. For example, the highest score possible a team can have at the end of round seven is thirty-five points- this means each team bout must enter nine rounds.

     This becomes yet more complicated when discussing individual score limits. Each individual fencer has a ten point score limit per round- so if during the seventh round, one team starts with thirty points and another starts with fifteen; once the second team reaches twenty-five points- even if the first team only has thirty-two or if there is still time on the clock- the round ends. This prevents any team from relying on only one great athlete.

     The “batting order” also staggers meaning two opponents never face off against each other twice- much like the way pool bouts work where each fencer competes against each opposing fencer exactly once. Each team has a three-fencer batting order with a fourth person designated the “anchor” or substitute- typically brought in for either round eight or round nine and whose task is to finish the bout as the least exhausted teammate.

     In the semi-finals, Team USA squared off against Team Russia; and I somehow managed to find myself as the only Team USA fan surrounded by Russia’s cheering section. During the USA v Russia bout, Lee Kiefer sustained an injury- making her the third of five total USA women’s foil fencers to take an injury at the tournament- but after some quick spray-can pain killer returned to the bout. USA went on to win the bout against Russia, which included the wounded Lee Kiefer ending the bout hopping about and screaming the way I imagine the mythological sprites might sound like as she hopped her way into the arms of her victorious teammates and into the finals.

     Italy defeated Germany in the semi-finals, so while the US and Italian teams took a break before their final competition; Germany and Russia faced off for the bronze medal. In team competitions, there are no shared bronzes, so the two defeated semi-finalists must fence in a bronze medal bout. As well as the bronze medal bout, other defeated teams must also continue to compete to determine official fifth to sixteenth placements- meaning that if a team loses once, they have to keep fencing.

     During one of these bouts, a member of the Canadian team had to pull out of the tournament due to an injury to her arm- adding to the list of battle-wounded in Leipzig. By the end of the day Italy managed to come out on top to earn the gold medal against the United States in the finals, and Russia defeated Germany to earn the bronze. Team bouts in fencing can be unique in a number of ways- but largely because it forces a nation to field at least four elite-level athletes.

     This means that nations like Tunisia, which might supply one, or two individual women’s foil fencers in a tournament may not be able to supply a team for the team event. That makes team events a great example of historic nations dominant in a given weapon. The nations represented at the women’s team foil event at Leipzig were (in order of final standings) Italy, USA, Russia, Germany, France, Canada, China, Japan, Hungary, Poland, Korea, Hong Kong, Sweden, and Argentina.

              The following day, I continued along on that early morning grind by waking up and heading over to the arena for the second day of the team events- this time including men’s epee and women’s saber. In the rounds of 8, Team USA fell short in both events to emotional defeats. As the audience shuffled over to the main seating areas to watch the semi-finals, I stayed behind to observe the defeated Americans as they wiped away their sweat and prepared for the long day of “placement bouts” to determine just where on the list the American flag would wind up.

     During the next wave of bouts, the American women squared off against Russia. During the bout, Monica Aksamit (USA) sustained a pretty nasty injury requiring the medical staff at the venue to intervene. While receiving medical aid, Aksamit also received a visitor in the form of her opponent- Yana Egorian (Russia)- coming by to check up on her competitor (in a much more friendly manner than the previously discussed Korean athlete). At the end of the bout, Russia came out on top.

     After a team bout, each fencer shakes hands with each of their opponents- like in soccer or volleyball- then with opposing coaches, then with referees; then finally they must sign a paper listing the final scores. After the American women signed away the last step of the post-bout ritual, they took to the cubical sideline by the pisté and mulled over their defeat. The athletes and coaches met this moment first with silent reflection, then with tending to their phones to check in on social media.

     Next, they collected their masks and swords, and unzipped their uniforms to let the stifled hot air escape. Once the literal and figurative hot air had time to escape, the athletes and their coaches rejoined and quietly discussed the chain of events that led to their defeat and prepared for the next round of bouts that would determine their placement in the final record books.

     The semi-finals for women’s team saber would see Italy face off against France and Korea face off against Japan. The Italian women seemed animated- prepared for their opportunity to enter the finals. The French responded to their animated opponents with silent stoicism as they prepared mentally rather than physically for the bout ahead. Throughout the bout, the French remained silent on the sidelines as one among them in turn battled the Italians favored to win.

     By the seventh round, the French team however engulfed themselves in fiery passion as athletes and coaches alike urged on their combatants on the strip. At one point in the seventh round, there was a moment of such incredible athleticism, that at the end of it- the two opposing athletes responsible immediately high-fived each other in amazement. (And, yes; of course I’m going to describe this badass moment.)

     First I want to pre-empt this play-by-play to talk about scoring in saber bouts though. Usually, each play lasts about one third of a second (and this is not an exaggeration) because as soon as the referee starts the clock; both fencers thrust themselves forward from only about ten feet away, their swords hit each other, the clock stops, and the referee makes a call. (This is why there is no time limit in saber.) With that being said, the fact that the event I am about to discuss even happened at all is worthy of serious standing ovations. (Which it received.)

     As the referee started the clock, the French fencer thrust herself against the Italian, but the Italian (instead of thrusting her own self forward) parried the attack, then reposted (a counter-attack); but failed to hit her retreating opponent with the repost. But don’t believe for a second things ended there. The Italian charged forward- taking the offense and roaring forward on the strip with continuously violent sword-work. With one foot outside the back line, the French fencer halted her retreat and thrust back with a parry against the Italian’s attack and a lunge forward with her repost. It landed. France gets a point. The two athletes high-fived. Somewhere in the afterlife, Anne Bonny cheered in approval.

     Eventually, Italy managed to win the bout and advanced the final. Korea defeated Japan as well- sending Italy and Korea into the finals. France would go on to defeat Japan in the bronze medal bout to earn a third place finish and Italy would defeat Korea in the final to earn the gold medal. The team saber competition included almost twice as many teams as the foil event, and the final placement tells an interesting story of the history of women’s saber. The final placement ended with (in order) Italy, Korea, France, Japan, Russia, Ukraine, USA, Mexico, Hungary, Poland, Spain, Hong Kong, Belarus, China, Canada, Germany, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Venezuela, Turkey, Thailand, Georgia, and Dominican Republic.

     The list- almost like a proverbial totem pole among the Indigenous Peoples of Western North America- tells a history of women’s saber that at the top mostly stand the nations who have produced Olympic-level saber medal winners since the event joined the games in 2004, while the lower nations on the list are countries where both saber fencing- and fencing overall- are growing and may within the next two to three Summer Olympics could be producing medal-winning saber fencers.

      On the last day of the Leipzig World Championships, the venue would play witness to the final two team events- men’s foil and women’s epee. As the men competed at the arena, the women warmed up and prepared for their final shot at bringing home medals for their respective nations. By this time, most of the athletes who were competing at the tournament had already packed their backs and left. There were few audience members left- since it was no longer the weekend, and people had to go to work- which left few people at the arena to cheer on the athletes. I was not about that at all, so on the final day- I cheered more than I ever had before.

     When the round of 16 began for women’s epee, I sat down to watch the United States take on Italy. The American women who made up the 2017 epee team were Kat Holmes, Kelley and Courtney Hurley, and Anna Van Brummen- and in that specific order is a sociological litmus test of (from first to last) intimidation to gleefulness. If Anne Bonny (the famous pirate I refer to endlessly in this ethnography) had somehow reincarnated in the form of a contemporary fencer- it would be Kat Holmes.

     As she warmed up heading into the bout- my immediate thought was that somebody is going to be stabbed- a lot- and it’s going to hurt- a lot. Then there’s Anna Van Brummen who- much like Lee Kiefer during her spritely prancing about victory dance- is the kind of person who will not only congratulate her opponents at the end of a bout, but will probably also bake everyone a tray of peanut butter cookies so that everyone can be friends after stabbing each other painfully.

     Now, I have to admit here (and Team USA women’s epee, please don’t pillage Sitka over this), I was not expecting the US to win. Italy’s women’s epee team has one of the top ten women’s epee fencers in the world (Rossella Fiamingo) and as of April 2017, the US had zero. When the Italians performed their ritualistic war dance to intimidate the US team, I prepared for the worst.

     I was pleasantly surprised however. Van Brummen held the team afloat with her cheerleading, C Hurley swash-buckled her way across the scoreboard, K Hurley battled her way against stiff competition, and Holmes essentially terrorized the Italians into submission with her war face. By the end of the bout, the United States had won. Italy- this time- would be the team performing the post-defeat ritual.

     After a round of men’s bouts, the quarterfinals for the women’s epee began and would see the United States square off against China. Again, China had one fencer in the top ten rankings (Sun Yiwen) with none from the States. The US had however upset the Italians, so I knew- even if the US lost- they would still make a strong name for themselves in this bout. When I sat down to watch the bout, a young mother and her two infant children sat next to me in the stand to watch the United States. After the initial introductions and questions of “Where are you from/ where are you from…” the bout began.

     “I’m trying to introduce my children to sports,” the mom spoke during a pause in the bout.

     “And you’re starting with fencing?” I asked- puzzled at the idea that fencing would be someone’s first sport. (Even in Germany, everyone starts with soccer.)

     “Neither one of them really like soccer,” (There it is.) she replied. Her three year-old son wiggled around in his chair. “I don’t think he likes fencing as much as his sister,” she responded. Her daughter- about the same age- had eyes wide open while watching the American women.      “She loves the US women,” the mom continued. “They’re her favorite.”

     I started talking about each US fencer in the bout- about Kat Holmes’ intimidating gaze, about the Hurley sisters and how they remind me of the long-gone Nadi brothers, and of Van Brummen’s impeccable sportsmanship. (I better get some peanut butter cookies for that, Anna!) This was not the only time I spoke with a mother-and-daughter pair of audience members at the tournament. Once before, I spoke briefly with a mom and her teenage daughter who had recently started the sport. I remember the daughter explaining how much she loved the sport after only being involved in it for about three years.

     The interesting thing about fencing tournaments at the national or international level is that there is a wealth of people with vastly different levels of experience that show up. Some are men and women who have long retired from the sport and are now either simply fans or have taken managerial roles (like coaching staff). These represent the fencers reborn into new roles in the sport. There are the athletes themselves- whether competing or watching- who are at the center of the life cycle of fencing. Finally, there are those just starting the sport that do not yet know where it will take them or how long they will remain as athletes. These are of course the novices aka the n00bs, and it is this group that I believe is the life of the sport.

     With coaches (maestros), this group is the proverbial silver-backed gorillas tasked with leading their clubs or teams, imparting their wisdom learned through decades in the sport, and passing on the oral history of fencing. The Olympians represent the role models of the sport. These athletes represent the image that young fencers strive to become- the Achilles, Ajax, and Penthisilea whose names history will remember (even if only in the oral accounts).

     At the heart of fencing, the sport is made up of the unnamed men and women and boys and girls who- with unbroken swords and untested armor- are putting on a mask for the first time. These are the little girls going to see their heroes at the World Championships or shake in nervousness when they find themselves asking Yana Egorian to sign a t-shirt they just bought.

     After considering all of this, it should be impressive then; that this little three year old girl from Germany who barely spoke English looked on with wide open eyes to watch her favorite fencers- the US women’s epee team- compete in a bout. While China defeated the US in an emotionally ending game, the US women achieved something much more important in defeat than China did not achieve in victory- they put on one hell of a show for that little girl who is probably going to become a seriously badass fencer one day- and will have four American women to thank for it.

     When the family sitting beside me left to watch other bouts, I stayed behind to support the US team through the rest of their day’s bouts. They would have to keep competing after their heartbreaking loss for final placement in a bout against Russia. The United States managed to win the bout and finished with an overall placement of seventh as the last American women competing at the tournament.

     China went on to earn the silver, losing to Estonia in the gold medal bout. Poland and Korea squared off for third place with Poland coming out on top. By the end of the day, the final standings were (in order) Estonia, China, Poland, Korea, Germany, France, USA, Russia, Italy, Ukraine, Israel, Hong Kong, Hungary, Spain, Romania, Argentina, Japan, Canada, Kazakhstan, Sweden, Venezuela, Finland, Singapore, and Costa Rica.

     Over the next two nights, I mulled over my experiences at the tournament by sifting through photos I took as well as photos athletes at the tournament began posting on social media. There was one photo I took that stood out in my digital photo album among what was probably over two hundred images. In the picture, the US women’s epee team stood shoulder to shoulder in a phalanx-like formation as the Italian team performed their war dance. The American women in the image look unimpressed ahead of what would be one of the most impressive feats of athletics I’ve seen in the sport. The image encapsulates the very nature of the sport.

     Without prize money or fame, the only gain earned in investment as an athlete in the sport is friendship. There was an infographic I saw online somewhere that talked about how pirates spend their whole lives looking for buried treasure when the real treasure is the friendship those pirates make along the way. In a laughable sort of way, that’s the sport of fencing.

     Those fencers who focus solely on winning medals (ahem, Korea) miss out on the most important aspect of the sport- making friends in countries no one’s ever heard of; having stories few people can comprehend, and living more in a split second than most people do in a decade. The stress of trying to win, the anger at loss, the high of victory, and the companionship of a team that endures all of those emotions together- even if sometimes they have to compete against each other- are what fencing is all about.

     So after thinking about all of that, my obvious next action was to get shit-faced hammered to wash away all those hippy emotions. (No you’re crying!) I spent the evening with a man from South Africa as we drank various potent potables in the hostel’s kitchen before heading down to the bar. This all of course began after I had already had a couple beers in the afternoon before a nap- so when I wandered back into the bar, the German woman who worked there was surprised to see me.

     “You’re back!” she replied excitedly.

     “I know,” I returned with despair. “I was just going to have a beer at five, but now these guys convinced me to come down here. Do you have coffee?”

     “Oh,” she returned, “We just turned off the machine for the night.”

     “I’ve been drinking all day,” I broke down, “And they just keep giving me more alcohol and I never say no to free alcohol, and now I’m here and I hoped there would be coffee…” I rambled on for what was probably a depressingly long amount of time.

     The woman became sympathetic to my plight though when she responded, “I could make some Turkish coffee!” [Made when grounds are boiled directly in the water and served without filtering the grounds out of the water.]

     “Really?” I replied with wide, tearful eyes.

     “But it might be pretty foul,” she continued.

     My face became reminiscent of a lost puppy that finally found its owner. “Thank you,” I spoke with tears forming.” Five minutes later, the woman reappeared with coffee to my gratitude and I drank the brew while the other guys drank theirs. That coffee could have awakened the dead- and was exactly what I needed. I survived the night without even having a hangover (and if you’re wondering, I gave that woman a ten Euro tip).