sabre fencing – Citizens Of Culture

Daryl Homer: Speaking With A Sabre

Youssef Grant Conversation Pieces, Current Events darrl homer, daryl homer, kristian punturere, olympics, sabre, sabre fencing, team usa, usa fencing, youssef grant 0

A couple months back I was asked to narrate a short commercial for leather-goods company. I was told the star of the visual was an Olympic fencer, and that is one of the main reasons I agreed. These are two very heavy words that I don’t recall hearing out loud and in person before. The concept of an Olympic athlete was a bit foreign to me, I have heard of them before, usually through occurrences that get them on the news having nothing to do with their particular sport. Also, much like an astronaut, a cowboy, or a genetically gifted vigilante, I was a fan, yet wasn’t blessed with the opportunity to see one in person.

The second part was fencing, a friend of mine had recently taken up the sport, which vaguely put it on my radar, but aside from that one scene in Die Another Day, I was unfamiliar.

I walk into an empty space with a backdrop and camera rig set up. I size up each person trying to simultaneously figure out which one the fencer was, and not look like I was excited to meet a fencer, I failed at both. Daryl Homer stands at 5 ft 8 in and yet somehow commanded the respect of at least 6’4”. I being from LA am very good noticing the difference between being shy and being reserved. Daryl was not shy, but he didn’t speak unless it was necessary. He didn’t come off as someone who engaged in ancient combat for a living, he was very tranquil and calm. After filming for an hour or so we order lunch and finally begin to chop it up.

Of course music was the icebreaker, music is always the icebreaker. We talk about our respective branches of hip-hop, being from opposite coasts we agreed on more than I thought we would but I guess that’s the time we live in. Good is good and bad is bad, weather you grew up in LA or the Bronx. We agreed on fashion, food, at that moment, he wasn’t a world-class athlete and I wasn’t a sarcastic pen for hire, we were both two young men laughing at the absurdities of life.

To be honest, I think that’s the part that has been confusing me lately. If you’ve ever watched videos of Daryl competing, you genuinely can’t follow his hand with the naked eye. How does someone develop an internal furnace, to compete that vigorously? Where does that fire come from? I think I was looking for something alien, something other than drive and dedication that can take you from humble kid catching the bus home from school in the Bronx, to humble superstar in Rio later this year, competing for the right to call yourself the best.

I think the word “best” is often misused or misinterpreted as “really good”. This young man could possibly be the best fencer on earth, with tangible proof, all while remaining perfectly human.

Some might say he has accomplished a lot, and they would not get an argument from me, but they may get one from him. The tunnel vision it takes to even have the audacity to go for number one is pretty remarkable. From my encounters with Daryl, he comes off as a man who completely disregards the concept of scale, someone who never understood that certain paths are regarded as impossible. In my opinion, you have to be blind to all doubt in order to not be intimidated by the herculean task at hand, to be soluble enough to allow yourself to dissolve in to an idea so much bigger than yourself. Representing your country, your state, your city, even your block. Going to Rio isn’t about proving anything to anyone, it isn’t about shadows of doubt or coming from a place of fear, It is about a man with the ambition to compete against himself. Other fencers will be present yes, but they are merely there to polish and reveal what we all know is already there. It is about taking a sport that was forgotten by mainstream media, and impacting it enough to put it back on the radar. It is simply about Daryl Homer, a right-handed sabre from the Bronx, who doesn’t need to say a word.

There Are No Opponents, Only Teachers

C2O Editor by Maceo Paisley, Conversation Pieces athlete, competition, fencing, olympics, sabre fencing 0

I have always been super competitive. Since before I can remember I was trying to do things faster, better, and since I don’t really remember very much about my life as an infant I have always thought that started with having a little brother. I assumed that I was always competing against him or my cousins, or perhaps my father. I recently realized this was incorrect.

First I had to put a lot of thought into understanding what I liked about winning. The Leo in me just loved the spot light, and if I happened to be the one standing atop the podium it was all the better. So holding a trophy, and taking a picture gave me some kind of rush. Getting my picture taken and being told I was special is always validating and I am kind of a ham so that was never an issue. But that was not always a guarantee and not the real reason I enjoyed competition.

One thing I knew was that I hated loosing, and as much as I loved winning I didn’t particularly like the look on my competitors faces when they lost either. It felt good to be on the podium but I didn’t like that there were only three spots. It was bittersweet, because it wasn’t so much that I loved the praise and being exalted. I just liked being acknowledged, and being included. I didn’t like the the fact that it meant others had to be excluded.

So much of my life I avoided competition for this reason. I felt that it was acidic to have to crush someone else’s dreams just to realize my own. There was something destructive about that and forced me out. This let me to art, where I could fully exercise my abilities in a community of others that were doing the same. We could all be independent together, no one better or worse, just different subjectively equal.

As an athlete I tried to apply that philosophy but it became difficult to know if I was progressing without measurement. The moment I began timing my runs, I wanted to improve them. But I wasn’t running against anyone except the clock. I only wanted to improve my own time. So then when it came time to enter a marathon, I knew that I needed to run my own race, but it was much like the artist community where I had to joy of seeing how other people ran, learn and be inspired but not objectively compare. We all had different physical statures so how we approached the run and the results we got were all different.

Now that I am a fencer, and have this Olympic ambition burning inside me, I realize that I am still seeking the same thing, to learn and be inspired. To challenge my self to reach my highest potential. The goal is to be faster, more accurate, more graceful, more in control. The person on the other side of the strip is only a mirror, reflecting back my progress, showing me where I am.

My competitor is really an ally, they are the first person I show my work to when I feel it is complete. They give me their honest feed back and first impression. I take their notes and mix them with my ideas and continue to strive forward.

So if I ever end up at the podium, I should thank all my competitors for helping me to improve, each match is a lesson, that affirms or challenges the techniques I am employing. There are no opponents, only teachers.