Americans have long enjoyed the benefits of foreign trade. We import oil from the Middle East, automobiles from Europe, and now, martial artists from Brazil.
The discipline that is making a hit in Madison is Brazilian jiu-jitsu, where the goal is to force your opponent to submit by applying a variety of joint-breaking and blood-choking holds. It sounds violent, even barbaric, but at the Monkey Bar Gym at 600 Williamson St., the combatants of the Luiz Claudio Combat Team revel in their training.
In fact, instructor Thales Blaso attributes jiu-jitsu with much of his personal success. Blaso grew up in one of Rio de Janeiro's infamous favelas -- the Brazilian equivalent of the American ghetto. Ruled by ruthless drug gangs, favelas rarely provide an escape for their inhabitants. Blaso said jiu-jitsu transformed his life and ultimately provided a way out of poverty.
"Luiz Claudio started teaching classes for free in my favela," Blaso said, referring to the black belt world champion. "I loved it and was the most dedicated student, so he took me under his wing and made me kind of a sidekick."
Many years later, this relationship would send Blaso around the world, eventually landing him in Madison.
This chance came with the 1993 debut of the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Differing from the modern UFC, where every fighter is well-versed in all forms of fighting (among them, kickboxing, wrestling, judo and jiu-jitsu), the original was a tournament of styles, designed to select the most lethal and efficient martial art once and for all. Many in Western culture assumed that boxing or kickboxing would surely prevail, but a skinny Brazilian named Royce Gracie proved them wrong. Gracie represented Brazilian jiu-jitsu, a system of grappling based around leverage and technique rather than size and strength. Using his jiu-jitsu, Gracie proved that with proper technique, a smaller person could decisively defeat a much larger, stronger opponent. This revolutionized America's view of martial arts, especially since some of Gracie's opponents outweighed him by nearly 100 pounds.
American appeal
After winning the first UFC, Gracie stated emphatically that it was his art, and not simply his skill, that made him so good. Almost overnight, a market for this new Brazilian jiu-jitsu was born in America.
That meant new opportunities for its practitioners. Claudio -- Blaso's professor, as black belts are known -- realized his chance and seized it, starting up academies in the U.S., England and South Africa. As he toured each location, conducting seminars and belt tests, he brought along his trusted sidekick, Blaso. "This changed everything for me," Blaso said. "I had never left Rio, and now I was touring the world. It was so exciting for me."
However, as years passed and Blaso built strong relationships with his many new students, one affected him most of all: Cassandra Rivers, a pretty young girl from rural Wisconsin who began training at Monkey Bar in 2002.
Rivers was so awed and inspired by Claudio and Blaso's charisma that she became totally immersed in jiu-jitsu. She traveled with the pair to Rio and eventually fell in love with Blaso, who describes this period with a glowing smile.
"When I fell in love with Casey, I told Luiz that I could no longer travel around with him, that I needed to stay with her," Blaso said.
Claudio understood and told Blaso to stay in Madison and run the Monkey Bar academy for him. "I couldn't believe it," Blaso said. "Not only did I meet an amazing girl, but now I was going to run my own academy. It was like a dream or something."
Intensity and camaraderie
Under Blaso's guidance, a typical class at the Monkey Bar consists of about 20 men and women of all ages, shapes and skill levels. After a grueling 45 minutes of push-ups, sit-ups and jump rope, Blaso teaches a series of positions, escapes, reversals and, of course, submissions. The students practice these diligently and then pair off to spar, or "roll," as it's called by practitioners.
Each student has his or her own motivation for partaking in this intensive martial art. Some, such as Cassandra Blaso, love the competition. She has trained extensively in Brazil and competed in the world's most prestigious (grappling) tournament.
"Basically, I love jiu-jitsu's intensity," she said. "When you step onto the mat at a tournament, it's just you and your opponent. This sport will teach you how far you can push yourself."
Others, such as David Martin, have a different take. Unlike Cassandra Blaso, Martin was never a star athlete. He began training in Brazilian jiu-jitsu primarily to shed some pounds and get in shape. However, he was quickly seduced by the sport as well as the unique attitude which seems to come with it.
"People see this as an individual sport when, in fact, it is far from it," Martin said. "I love the camaraderie of the team and the respect between us. It's really a worldwide community. I mean, if I'm traveling for work and have a few hours to kill, I'll stop in at the local academy wherever I am and am always welcomed like family."
Thales Blaso isn't surprised to hear that. "That's the Brazilian way, my friend," he said. "I look at all of my students as my family. We compete against other teams all the time, but we are still in the same family. That's what makes jiu-jitsu so special."
Whatever it is, Brazilian jiu-jitsu's unique take on self-defense and physical fitness has found a stable home in Madison.
Jacob Ela
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Luiz Claudio (left). a two-time World Master Champion in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, demonstrates a takedown on his student and class head instructor Thales Blaso at the Monkey Bar Gymnasium.