En garde: Fencer challenges Olympian

Justin Bernstein Guest Writer

The National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) fencing championships have no Sweet Sixteen or Final Four. Two weeks before the March 18-19 meet in Houston, I qualified, and balanced my time between training and writing my thesis. I had fenced in the finals in the 2003-2004 season, but this year’s field was much tougher. In 2004, two of the strongest fencers from our region, Jason Rogers of Ohio State and Tim Hagamen from Harvard, had taken the year off to train for the Summer Olympics.

During the meet, I traveled from strip to strip alongside two fencers from St. John’s University and their coach, Yuri Gellman, the men’s saber coach for the national team.
All 24 participants had to fence each other, and I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to move at full speed over the course of two days and 23 five-touch bouts.

I was also worried that the directors would be tougher in their calls against me than they were against other fencers because I had some flaws in my technique and I am not from a big university. The directors in saber often have to make controversial calls on “right of way.” If both fencers hit each other, these calls determine who gets awarded the touch.

The highlight of my time at nationals was fencing Hagamen, Harvard’s best saber fencer.

Hagamen is ranked sixth nationally for all age groups, and he won the silver medal in the 2002 under-20 World Championships. I had fenced Hagamen before, and I knew that the best advantage I had against him was that he wouldn’t take me seriously. He had consistently beaten me in both collegiate fencing and national events, and the last time I fenced him he had relied solely on his speed and long reach. I would have to use a lot of tactics and technique to offset his advantages, but I thought I could do it.

We tested masks, saluted and got en garde. I decided that for the first touch I would try to do a defensive action. I still wasn’t confident in my attack and I knew that I couldn’t move faster than him from the en garde line.

“En garde. Etes-vous prets? Allez!” said the official.

Hagamen took deceptively small steps forward, his arm slightly extended, and I did the same. I started to pretend to accelerate by jerking my body forward and taking faster steps, and he immediately lunged. I quickly stepped back, parried (meaning blocked) his blade, hit him on the mask, and yelled to psyche myself up.

The director awarded me the touch and we went back to the en garde line. I decided that my next action would be defensive again. Thinking, “He probably thought the first touch was a fluke, and that I’m going to attack this time—he won’t be expecting two ripostes in a row,” I took small slow steps forward, and when I was in his distance, I began a faster bigger step and he immediately made a lunging attack to my mask. I moved my hand up into a head parry and quickly cut him on the head again. One light again—I yelled again.

“The same thing won’t work again, he’s not going to fall for the same thing,” I thought. When the director told us to fence Hagamen hesitated and I came forward full speed before breaking into a flunge, a long jump that allows you to cover a lot of distance without crossing your feet. He tried to retreat, but my saber connected with his electric jacket. One light again—I yelled even louder.

“You’re doing it, you’re doing it, you’ve got it! You’re going to beat him,” my thoughts were racing and I was getting too excited. I tried to calm down, but I didn’t plan the next touch as well as I needed to—Hagamen came forward full speed off the en guard line and I was not able to get out of distance. His light went off and he yelled.

On the next touch we both went forward, neither of us committing to an attack—I was afraid of his speed and he was being cautious about my parries. Eventually, I took the initiative and made some quick advances before hitting his flank with a lunge while he tried to parry my blade.

Both lights registered touches this time, but the director gave me the point, since I was attacking. The Harvard cheering section was starting to sound concerned. One teammate called out, “Tim—focus, you can do this. One touch at a time!”

Again, I was too excited, and rushed forward off the en garde line. Hagamen pretended to fall short and drew me out, but as soon as I began my attack, he hit me and parried my blade so that only one light would go off. The score was 4-2 in my favor.

We both went forward, retreated back, and came at each other together, each of us trying to steal the time from the other. No touch. The same thing happened again except I thought I had started my attack before him, and that I deserved the touch.
“Simultaneous,” ruled the official.

The St. John’s fans were watching, and made a sound to indicate that they disagreed with the official. Finally, on the last touch we both came forward then stepped back, and I attacked Hagamen at full speed. He tried to speed up so as to make the action simultaneous, or to finish first and steal the time, but I had clearly taken the initiative and he was reacting.

“Touch left, bout 5-2.” I had beaten Tim Hagamen.

Unfortunately things did not go quite so well after that. I ran out of energy some time during the first day and lost several bouts that I shouldn’t have.

I also lost bouts that I was expected to lose, including one to Adam Crompton (the 2003, 2004 and 2006 NCAA Finals Champion who beat me 5-3) and Rogers, a member of the 2004 Olympic team, who destroyed me 5-0.

Over the course of the second day, I was exhausted and only able to pick up two bouts (although I was expected to lose both of them), which made my rank nineteenth.

While I was somewhat disappointed with my overall performance, I had a great time. It encouraged me to know that if I focused and worked hard, I could beat someone as good as Hagamen.