Jiu Jitsu In Review

Facility / Location : Let's be honest, I absolutely hate the Theater District. It's congested, tourist-filled, and there's something putrid in the air. However, Vitor Shaolin's school is a safe-haven from the ruckus. Though the studio itself is smaller the bigger NYC schools, it's not off-putting. It fashions a modern theme with deep-slate gray mats, complimented by air-con, art-work, a large-reception desk, clean lockers with two showers, and open-factory windows that make the gym feel like a New York loft.  It's truly immaculate. Instruction:   One of the brown-belt instructor warms us up with standard plyometrics. However, the warm ups are eerily quiet with no music and just shy of fifteen students for today's class. After we're done, Shaolin takes the stage. He's the consummate 'brazillian jiu-jitsu professor': short-and-stocky, cauli-eared, a Rio de Janerio brown complexion,  and still with a noticeable Portuguese accent as he ext

Facility / Location:   Today, I am scanning the street for "Babs BJJ" on the corner of Broadway and Reade in the heart of Tribeca. However, what I find instead is  "Martial Arts - The Wat" and an arrow directing me down a flight of stairs. The studio is simple.  Rustic, furnished with plants, small trinkets, and candles. I am also greeted by a faint smell of incense and the sound of Sarama, traditional Thai music that is performed before fighters clash. You can tell there's a sense of tradition and pride embedded in "The Wat". More than anything, however,  I become nostalgic for my travels throughout Northern Thailand. But let's get into the meat-and-bones ... where the martial arts occurs... through the next door. Unlike the first partition, there's a roaring cadence. Pads are being smashed, sparring is commencing, mutiple timers are buzzing down, and there's hollering. One voice that sticks out is emerging from the back of the stu

Facility / Location: On a bone-chilling December night, circa 2017, I decided to check out Unity Jiu Jitsu (formerly on 37th and Madison). Having arrived early, the door was firmly shut. I'm told they were just finishing up an impromptu pro-training.  As I waited in my parka and jeans on the staircase of some questionable midtown structure, I could feel the steam seeping through the cracks of the door. Ten or so minutes go by and I'm now half-sweating.  Finally, the door swings open ... it's time.    Like a true Manhattan studio, it's  incredulously tiny .   The white mats take up 95% of the space, with the remaining being a small reception-desk and a closet equipped with a shower. That's it.  Nearly twenty or so people showed up on a Christmas holiday ready to take a two hour class. We start with guard-retention drills and move on to some spider-attacks. After we finish the drilling portion, having already felt like someone's soggy diner napkin,  I beco

Facility / Location : I arrived early by an hour. Patiently waiting, I see Marcus Tinoco showing some of his patented lasso guard during the drilling class on one end of the mat, and on the other end, another black belt instructing a closed guard break for the foundation program. Marcelo's academy feels pure in every sense of the word. The bright white lights shining down provides your retina perfect resolution; the cursive yellow MG sign plastered against the wall-mat is beautifully contrasted; and everyone's energy in the academy is alike as Marcelo's. The academy gi's (not mandatory) are crisp, and the rash-guards are sleek. But of course, with such a reputation, 50-60 people have now shown up for the gi class. The mats are beginning to feel crunched. This is New York City I remind myself, and if you are not comfortable rubbing shoulders with someone, then it's the wrong to place to live, yet alone train. And somehow, someway, I couldn't get over the a