Monty vs. The Rabid Hyena: The Amateur Fencer Takes on the Master!

Drip- SPLOOSH!!

Drip- SPLOOSH!!!

Drip- SPLOOSH!!!!

Each bead of sweat sounded like a thunderclap inside the closed space of my helmet as it dripped from my chin to my chest. The air was warmer and more stifling than ever. My sword arm felt like a lead weight. My vision was beginning to swim. And in front of me, all I could hear was Monty's hearty, bellowing laugh.

Show off.

My fingers ran over the numerous depressions on my chest pad, where Monty had effortlessly planted his foil countless times over the last twenty minutes. Damn it, I thought. Some re-match this is turning out to be. It seemed that no matter how quickly I parried, how powerfully I lunged or how spry my footwork, Monty was two steps ahead of me. During our latest match, I feigned a lunge to his left, forcing him to open up his chest. As I disengaged and attempted to circle my blade to his exposed right side, Monty's foil was already planted squarely above my sternum before I was even halfway to my target. I, on the other hand, had yet to score even a single hit.

More expletives came from behind my mask.

"You, dear boy," Monty proclaimed, "are like-"

"A lazy dog! A clumsy windmill! I know! I know!"

Monty paused and smiled his white, toothy grin. "Actually," he quipped, "I was going to say a rabid hyena." I expressed my appreciation for my new title with a deep sigh of humiliation.

"But," Monty said, "I must say that you are getting faster!"At this my eyes perked up. Although Monty was a little harsh at times as an instructor, he was also just as quick to compliment students on their improvements. "Larger lunges, grizzly," he would bellow one minute at a particularly hirsute student, only to pat him on the back ten minutes later after that same student demonstrated a smooth downward parry and hit combination. "Excellent, ol' boy," he would shout, slapping Grizzly on his hairy shoulder. "No hitting like a pansy," he would glower at another student, only to then whoop and congratulate her with glee when Pansy landed a hit- a most palpable hit- squarely in the center of a practice dummy's chest.

"So," Monty said. "If you want to beat me, you have stop trying to force the blade straight through into me. Your moves are too predictable. Take, for example, our last bout," he lectured as he suddenly whipped up his foil in an elegant, distracting flourish before lunging forward. I instinctively engaged him in a parry to the left and shuffled back out of range, just as my Romanian instructor had taught me. "Good," he bellowed. "Now, think back to what your next move was." At this, I pushed his blade further to the left, exposing his chest and then disengaged from him, again circling my foil underneath his and making a beeline for his sternum. However, just as before, my own chest pad met the tip of his foil before I was even halfway there. "You see," Monty smiled. "You have to think outside of the box. Remember, you're not always confined to these straight-nosed techniques of block, hit, block, hit. Fencing is a creative art, not a mechanical one. Think...." Monty paused to circle his free hand in the air rather foppishly. "...like an artist."

I had to smile at Monty's sheer enjoyment of not only the sport, but of the flair he added to it. No matter how harsh his criticisms, he always knew how to put some class and charm into his lessons. Once again, Monty shuffled towards me, again lunging furiously towards my chest. Again, I stepped back, this time parrying his blade downward in an attempt to expose his upper torso. As soon as I saw my opening, I went in for the kill. And once again, Monty's blade stopped me dead in my tracks.

DAMN IT!

A third try with a parry to Monty's right and a lunge. Once again, Monty halted me before I could blink.

A fourth try with a parry to the left and a double disengage. And again, Monty thwarted my diabolical scheme in a whirlwind of steel and speed. "Had enough," Monty asked, noting with concern how I was beginning to tire.

By this time, I was nearly ready to pass out. I could barely stand on my own two legs. The only thing I could picture was the enormous dinner I was going to cook myself if I survived this. And that cocky son of a bitch Monty was standing there, not even breaking a sweat.

And yet....

"Again," I called. Monty threw his head back and let out an enormous bray of delight. "That's the spirit, m'boy," he yelled, twirling his sword in circles as he bounded towards me. He lunged at me twice, each time forcing me back with quick parries. As Monty went for his third lunge, I parried to the right, opening up his chest once again. Monty smiled as he calculated that I would make the same mistake. Think outside the box, I repeated. Don't just block and hit.

I disengaged Monty's foil and circled mine under his, just as before. Monty once again brought up the tip of his foil towards my chest, grinning as he predicted teaching me yet another lesson in humility.

That's when I mixed things up a little.

At the very last second, I drew my sword arm back from my usual beeline strike. Suddenly, I saw that twinkle in Monty's eyes disappear. His grin instantly vanished, only to be replaced by a furrow in his brow and a dimple in his weathered cheek as he cocked his head sideways in a moment of...what? Hesitation? Confusion? From the legendary Monty?

Whatever it was, I seized the opportunity. I circled my foil from right to left, causing Monty distraction as he struggled momentarily to block my blade. I slowed the speed of my wrist as I circled my foil under his to the left. As he followed to block, I then instinctively flicked my wrist, batting his blade away and opening up his torso. From there, I disengaged around his foil once more and drove mine forward....

...only to be met with Monty's foil clanging against mine, blocking my tip less than an inch from his solar plexis. As I looked back up, I saw that Monty was actually catching his breath! "Close," he panted, slightly unnerved, "but no bottle of scotch just yet, m'boy." And there was that white, toothy grin once again.

UGH! my mind screamed. I was so close! As we both stood back up and saluted each other, Monty straightened his back and took a deep breath, standing there, still as unbeatable as ever. "But," he remarked, "now you're starting to think outside the box. It's not anything you can practice at home. You just have to keep sparring and thinking."

As I hobbled back to the locker room, I was replaying those last moments of the match in my mind. I couldn't believe it! I was less than an inch away from settling my score! Less than an inch! I couldn't believe that he stopped me....

...but I'm getting closer, I thought with a smirk. Rabid hyena, my ass.