A true sword story

I became interested in learning to fence while working for the university from which I had just graduated. My interest started via the collector's route; I got interested in collecting swords and armor and then decided to learn how to actually fence. I did not like foil so my instructors at the university club suggested I try saber. I really liked it; that was more my style of fencing because for my I liked the wider range of motion.

So in saber anything above the waist is a target, since saber replicates the fencing done on horseback where courtesy of the days past prevented a gentleman from striking below the waist where the horse might be harmed. I met my ex husband at the fencing club. He was proficient in all three weapons. Since I was a beginner we could never really fence, as any attempt would simply turn into a lesson for me. One day I kept bending my sword hand in a way that exposed the wrist as a target and he, of course, zeroed in on it repeatedly. Bored and exasperated he said, "You know, if you keep exposing your wrist I'm going to keep hitting it!" So I worked to correct that problem.

But at the same time I thought to myself, "Hmm."

So when fencing an older man who was a mean arrogant lout at the club, I would let my wrist be exposed just a little, like I was being sloppy and sure enough, I'd see his weasel eyes darting in that direction. I'd add a little drool and my best dunce cap idiotic expression and sure enough, he would go for my wrist. But I'd act like I suddenly noticed and sloppily parry his attack. This would set him up for thinking that I wasn't aware of what I was doing, and to scorn me as an opponent.

With cunning and persistence I was able to score a lot of points with this gambit. I'd leave my wrist open for bait, and then parry in a way that looked a bit desperate, but then I'd immediately riposte for the kill. I could do this a few times in a row and they'd never learn.

(By the way, years later I was taking lessons with a prominent coach who was a family friend. I could even get away with it with him, and that was the only way I could score points on him, his being a former Olympian and Pan Am champ. But boy when he'd catch me doing it he'd whallop me with his moves outside my gambit ha ha ha. Yet I could still get him to fall for it every once in a while so I'd get at least one point in one of our practice bouts. He was so skilled and so fast, that I was a genius if I just succeeded in parrying him until I was backed up to the wall. He dressed all in black and was like a nice Jewish older man ninja ha ha, coming at you like a black cloud at full speed, and that wasn't even him trying hard ha ha. What a champion he was.)