Introduction to Finding the Art

I have been fascinated by martial arts and combat sports since childhood, and have studied them at every opportunity. I can't put my finger on when they became my reason to exist, but I do remember why. It wasn't the displays of strength or speed or the assertion of one fighter's physical dominance over another. It was the little tricks and traps. The moments where, were it not a fist fight, one could  exclaim “A-ha! Tricked you!”

In that respect, I believe my love of combative technique and strategy is similar to many people's love for the game of chess. It was not the abnormal power or speed of a fighter which kept me enraptured, nor the shows of great heart, it was the fighters who could best lie to their opponent. The ones who, through their movement, strike selection and anticipation, could make themselves seem faster, stronger, tougher.

That was how I came to love the footage of Willie Pep, Kid Chocolate and the other great boxing masters. But there were still plenty who bored me. Jack Johnson? All he did was clinch. Years later, I would realize the art of Johnson's work. Why could he clinch with impunity and wear men out there? Shouldn't he be getting hit? Why could he land punches in the clinch while his opponent couldn't?

It doesn't matter what occupation you fall into, you find ways to make your day-to-day tasks easier. From waiting tables, to bricklaying, to laying out spreadsheets on Microsoft Excel, there are shortcuts we learn to make our work more efficient. And fighters are just the same. There's the occasional fool who genuinely doesn't mind getting hit, but almost every fighter in the world would rather land a good few blows and get through it without getting hurt. There isn't a fighter alive who you can watch and fail to learn a trick, a technique, or a method from.

Even after learning this lesson—that there is art to everyone's method—I compartmentalized what I had learned. I loved boxing and kickboxing, but then the Ultimate Fighting Championship came along and I hated the idea. It was too brutal, they were hitting each other on the floor. Then, after a few years,  I watched an event from the Japanese promotion, PRIDE FC, and I could see the art.

Something had changed, the sport had matured. These weren't men blindly swinging at each other and trying to assert the dominance of their individual fighting discipline. These were men amalgamating knowledge. There was art here. Mixed Martial Arts became the greatest passion of my life, and years later through the twists and turns of fate, writing about it became—as Robert Frost would put it—both my vocation and my avocation.

Right now, as I write this, I know that there are more of those eureka moments around the corner for me. Just as you can avoid a food your entire life due to a bad experience in your youth, then discover you adore that food when you consume it by accident at a party or a restaurant overseas. A second look makes all the difference.

If you are reading this, I probably don't have to beg you to give combat sports a second chance. But I contend that a far, far greater percentage of the population would enjoy boxing, kickboxing and mixed martial arts if they were familiar with the methods. Not just the rules and the techniques, but the tactics and strategies. The difference that ring positioning makes, the purpose and method of cutting angles, the role of the handfight and the headfight,

Where a fight happens is of primary importance. Once you realize the significance of the fence or ropes in a bout, you will see fighters running themselves onto it and getting knocked down everywhere. Once you understand how to cut off the ring, you will notice when fighters ineffectively follow their opponent around it. And once you understand the roles of the head on the inside, and the concealment of dirty tactics, you will not be able to ignore them.

This short collection of essays began as an attempt to answer a request which I receive often: how does one get the most out of watching a fight? The topic is a daunting one, and I was afraid to approach it for a long time. I had studied fighters and believed I had come to understand fighters, but I had never given much thought to the study of studying fighters!

After lengthy consideration, I have decided that while there is an near infinite list of factors which govern fights—sometimes as small as the slack in the ropes or the resin on the ring mat—some can be given greater significance than others. The short list contained in this book will not be anywhere close to exhaustive, but I believe it is a good start.

Stick and Move: The Meaning of Angles

Before venturing into the world of combat sports practice or fandom, it is important to understand that hitting people is not difficult. If you're standing straight in front of each other and if you throw enough punches, a few are bound to get through. The essence of good fighting though, that “sweet science” to which authors keep referring, is to hit and be out of the way of a retaliation not if the opponent punches back, but when they do.

A young fighter can tear through a good few opponents by taking a punch to give a hard one of his own but if a career in combat sports is to be attempted with any hope of success, the fighter must find a way to stack the exchanges in his favour. A fighter who can give his opponent “looks”, that is to move off of the line of attack and strike from there, is likely to make a vastly superior fighter to a man who simply comes in head on.

Taking a dominant angle is simultaneously the most difficult aspect of the fighting game to comprehend, and the most basic human instinct. Remove yourself from all cultural and social constraints and think more about survival than about putting on a good fight. You are a naked, starving human being who wants to eliminate a stronger, competing human being. How do you do it? The correct answer will always be to sneak up behind him and bash him over the head from where he can't see it coming and from where he cannot retaliate. As he turns to face you, head still aching and still regaining his senses you hit him again, and again until he falls.

“Taking an angle” in combat sports is, at its heart, no different to this, the mechanics are just a little bit different.  It is the art of moving to a position where your foe cannot get at you nearly so easily as you can get at him. When you think about it in it's purest form it sounds a lot like cowardice, but after you open your eyes to it you will quickly realize that this is the difference between the good fighters and the greatest fighters. If a fighter is a great brawler, by all means he might stand in front of an opponent and take him on head-to-head—but where is the craft in giving an opponent an equal chance?

If you want to reliably win fights against competent, well conditioned and well trained opponents every advantage should be taken and every possible opportunity should be brought to lever against an them. Consider the position of a coach or a manager for a moment—for them the fighter is an investment and so his task is not only get the job done, by out-scoring or finishing off his opponent, but to protect himself while doing so. For the fighter himself, brain cells are money in the bank, and each strike he takes is a cruel tax on his work.  It is in everyone’s interest for the fighter preserve himself and to keep the prospect of food on his family's table for as long as he can and a mastery of movement and angling can do that.

Fundamentally this means taking a step to the left or right, off of the opponent's attacking line as shown in Figure 1. In Japanese martial arts it is called tai sabaki, in boxing it is simply called angling or giving the opponent “looks”.

Fig. 1

Almost all of a fighter's offensive and defensive techniques are set up to deal with an opponent who is directly in front of him. Stepping off of the line of attack removes the efficiency of his blows, and sets up the fighter in motion's own blows. For an orthodox fighter, stepping to the right past the static fighter's lead shoulder, lines up the right straight behind his left hand, and the left hook between his guard. Stepping to the left lines the right straight up between his gloves and the left hook behind his right hand.

Angles are not given up easily and in a high level boxing match you will normally see both men moving around the ring almost constantly from the start of the round to the end. Angles are repeatedly being taken by one fighter and removed by the other. Anyone who lets an opponent simply circle around to a dominant angle and strike from there with no set up is obviously not going to make it very far in the ring, but the act of circling forces the opponent to turn.

No one can give up angles for free, it is human instinct to face your opponent and this not only keeps the turning fighter on edge and numbs his reactions to strikes at times, but also removes the power in his strikes for the instant that he is pivoting. Figure 2 demonstrates the pivot used by an orthodox fighter to recover position as an opponent circles to the fighter's right. In this pivot the right foot is lightened and the fighter pivots around his left foot, clockwise. Figure 3 shows the pivot to counter an opponent's movement to the fighter's left. This involves lightening the right foot once again but this time pivoting anti-clockwise around the leading left foot.

Fig. 2

Fig. 3

A turn in any discipline is accomplished by pivoting around one foot—in almost all cases the method taught is to pivot on the lead foot so as to keep the guard and stance. When a fighter is pivoting, he is effectively on one foot and his hips are being forced to turn in one direction, making it very hard to get set for power punches. When you hear a trainer yelling “keep turning him” or “keep him from getting set” this is what he means – a power puncher cannot hit hard if he cannot plant his feet and use them to transition his weight. As the pivoting fighter plays catch up, he provides an excellent opportunity for the circling fighter to step in with a good one-two, then continue circling away without getting into too much trouble.

Simply following a circling fighter around the ring is not good practice but in order to cut off the ring properly some defensive sacrifices must be made. This often means squaring up the stance and giving oneself less time to react to straights. Even the most gifted ring cutters get hit when they pursue an opponent so it is always worth at least attempting to move around and prolong the outfight before falling back on plan B (whether that be clinching, infighting or even the rope-a-dope).

Angling off doesn't just deny an opponent his punching power and force him to constantly adjust, it is also an important factor in recovering from offensive efforts. The traditional means of using angles both offensively and defensively is what is termed a “V-Step”. An “in and out” style boxer might drive in with his jab and then step out in any number of directions. Straight backward is the least advisable because it can be capitalized on by simply following the jabber back towards the ropes and flustering him.

An outfighter might bounce in with his jab and then bounce backwards to his right, taking him away from his opponent's power hand and setting him up to step off and stay away from the ropes. Figure 4 shows this method, the left hand diagram detailing the direction in which the outfighter steps with his jab, and the right hand diagram detailing his retreat on an angle. If his opponent attempts to counter the jab, and is aggressive enough to follow, he will provide the outfighter with a deeper angle (identical to that shown in Figure 6). Wildly rushing the man performing the V-step would give him the opportunity to sneak a powerful right hand in from his new angle, behind his opponent's left glove.

Fig. 4

Alternatively, the skilled outfighter might jab in and then using his front foot as a pivot, swing his back leg around behind him to his left and push back out towards his left. When retreating to the left side, it is important for a fighter to be cognisant of his opponent's right hand which can come around and clock him behind his own left hand. Consequently when retreating off to the right, a smart boxer will keep his left hand high, or drop it but keep his shoulder up, ready to duck down behind it if a punch comes back.

Fig 5

Both of these V-steps have tremendous value as recovering manoeuvres—for the fighter to get in with a snapping jab and retreat untouched. But the best fighters don't think in either offensive or countering modes, this technique is best used as a mount for getting in both a lead and a counter. The fighter leads with a jab—hit or miss, doesn't matter—and recovers to a position which, if the opponent drives in with punches, will leave the original jabber at an advantage.

To see this sort of strategy at its absolute best, it is worth reviewing the vast body of work which Roberto Duran put forth in the ring. 'Manos de Piedra' was known as a heavy hitter, but really he was one of the finest all around boxers to ever live. At the start of every fight, Duran would flick out jabs and angle off or duck out in one direction or the other after every single attack. And he rarely angled off the same way twice in a row. If his opponent stood still he'd start nailing them with the jab and getting off scot free. If they started trying to catch him when he shot in close enough he'd escape out to the side, blocking their swings, and hammer them with a counter right hand.

To see how the absence of an angling out motion can adversely influence a fighter's performance, look no further than Amir Khan. Khan's speed is almost preposterous, and he is probably a more physically gifted fighter than Roberto Duran ever was. But against many of his opponents Khan will get into what is termed in the business “admiring his work”. Stepping in with a hard jab, Khan will stand still for a moment, then step straight back. Because of this, he often gets caught with wild punches which have been thrown while the opponent is eating a jab.

A surprising number of punches in any fight are thrown blind. Fighters take a blow and they throw back, they can't always see what the opponent is doing. Khan has been knocked down and even knocked out by these sort of “lucky punches” just because he doesn't remove himself from the only area where his opponent can affect him.

The two techniques mentioned above are called V-steps because a fighter comes in on one line and leaves on another. The shape of entry and exit should produce something resembling a V.  As with any technique in combat sports, these in-out angles work even better when used in combination with other movements.

For instance, a boxer might glide around his opponent to the left, then switch on a dime to circle a couple of steps to the right.  Once the opponent has reacted and is catching up with his pivoting, the circling fighter might bound in with a stiff jab and move out to the left again.

In the process of one simple footwork pattern he has made his opponent follow him, change directions, eat a jab and then change directions again. The jab might not even land, but defending such tactics can become mentally and physically taxing and slow a fighter's wits.

There have been so many wonderfully graceful outside boxers who have used similar footwork and played on their opponent's expectations to land jabs that it is tough to name just a few. Of course the legendary Muhammad Ali was one of the most active ring circlers at heavyweight. Kenny Buchanan skated around the ring beautifully between jabs. Willie Pep didn't have the jabbing class of many other greats, but his constant changes of direction allowed him to score easily on opponents who were busy playing catch up with his feet and who had forgotten that he was there to throw hands.

A more aggressive application of a V-step is to bounce in with a jab and then bring the right foot up to side step directly past the opponent's lead leg. The purpose of this entering through the front door and leaving through the side window is to take the jabber's right shoulder outside of the defender's lead hand and shoulder. This makes it very easy for the attacker to line up a powerful straight right, behind his opponent's lead hand.

Fig. 6

To take the most powerful angles, attacking the opponent from almost ninety degrees, a good deal of aggression is required from the opponent. When an opponent is driving in wildly, as when frustrated or seeing their man with his back to the ropes, a fighter can use the classical side step to cut a more severe angle.

The classical side step, depicted in Figure 7, consists of a full step with the right leg out to ninety degrees, and then the left foot is recovered into a stance to the right of where the fighter began. This method can be used to circle the ring but is uniquely suited to situations where a rapid change of direction and position is necessary—such as when getting off the ropes or cage.

Fig 7.

Fig 8

Figure 8 shows the footwork for this technique. From an orthodox stance the fighter steps out to his right with his right foot, pivoting on his left so that his torso and hips are facing completely to his right. This is accompanied by a lean forward at the waist, a raising of the right hand, in case he runs into a left hook. The lean forward at the waist—combined with a tucking of the chin—means that even if the right hand does not completely shield the fighter from the left hook, the most the opponent will hit is the top of their skull and forehead. In the side step the fighter also drops his left hand, in case he wants to thread a nice jab through as his opponent approaches him. Finally, having turned his body to the right, the fighter rotates his hips back towards his opponent and retracts his left foot back into his stance.

Figure 9 shows the side step being used to counter a forward charge. In this instance, the fighter in white comes in with a simple, lunging jab. The fighter in black performs a side step to his right to evade the charge, and achieves the perfect angle to throw a right hand behind the fighter in white's left hand.

Fig. 9

When a fighter achieves such a dominant angle his opponent only has three choices—turn to face him, stand still and cover up, or step away. Turning to face involves pivoting on one foot, meaning that the fighter cannot hit with power during that time. Covering up is almost impossible with an opponent on the flank because his straights can travel behind your lead hand, and his hooks come in through the front of your guard. Often, stepping away and resetting in the centre of the ring is the best bet. Fighting is about winning exchanges after all, why prolong one where you are clearly at such a disadvantage?

And this is the danger of lunging at a fighter while he's circling the ring, he could sidestep you and suddenly he's throwing right hands from your blind spot.

So how does a fighter go about countering his opponent's lateral movement, without exposing himself to unanswerable punishment? He cuts off the ring.