Fencing: A sport of precision

As members wormed their way into the heavy white practice tunics and picked out swords, club president Benjamin Yount explained the en garde position to one of the new members.

"Feet shoulder-width apart, heels at 90 degrees, pointed together," he said. "And you want to hold your sword so that the point is at eye-level, that way when you extend *..."

He trailed off to demonstrate a fluid stabbing motion. The dozen-or-so members of the Southeast Missouri State University Fencing Club, after stretching and a few drills, got right down to business.

The less experienced members paired off and sparred gingerly as the more exuberant swordsmen zigzagged across the gym floor, parrying and counterattacking.

"The aim is basically to get in as many shots as possible as quickly as possible, and the first person to screw up is usually the person who loses," said freshman Alexis Santana.

A fencer holds his sword, mask and glove. (Laura Simon)

For some, such as third-year club member Nathan Lutes, a large part of fencing's allure is in the delicate pairing of traditional combat sport and more elegant technical precision. It requires an aggression not unlike that of jiu-jitsu or wrestling, but also requires that one's aggression be tempered, refined and graceful as a forehand serve.

"There's not a lot of brute force," Lutes said. "It was just something that I'd heard about, but I'd never done it before. This was something I'd never seen, and I thought I'd give it a try."

In high school, he was into more physique-dependent activities, being a former lineman and tae kwon do player. Now, he focuses more on cultivating a fencing skill set.

"There's a lot of speed and precision," he explained. "It doesn't matter how big or tall you are in this. It matters how much finesse you've got."

Of course, fencing is plenty exciting as well -- in its simplest form, it's trying to stab someone before they can stab you. There's a certain swashbuckling thrill that's absent from more traditional sports, explained boxer and former wrestler Santana.

Southeast Missouri State University students practice during their classical fencing class at the university. (Laura Simon)

"It's got fast action. Plus, it's all one-on-one," he said. "They had swords, and I watched it in the Olympics a lot. And I just couldn't catch a ball worth anything, so *..."

But just because there's an emphasis on technique doesn't mean there isn't conditioning involved. The first 15 minutes of practice are spent in a line across the gym, with Yount barking commands and the team practicing footwork. From the en garde position, they alternately advance, crossover, retreat and extend.

And while the swords aren't heavy to pick up, any length of time spent sparring is enough to get the shoulders burning.

"Stamina in your arm," Santana's sparring partner, Alex Voss, identified as the most difficult aspect of the sport. "You could know every technique there is to know, but the minute your arm starts to fatigue, you might not be able to perform them."

To improve muscle memory, they drill with bits of tape on the gym's concrete walls, stabbing over and over at the corners of a 1-foot square.

Southeast Missouri State University students practice during their classical fencing class at the university. (Laura Simon)

But to Voss, the singular responsibility is fencing's most attractive feature.

"It's totally unlike sports like basketball or baseball," he said. "If you win in fencing, you know that it was all you."

tgraef@semissourian.com

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