Sell my soul to the devil? No, I just shucked out $3.00 for my copy of On Fencing at the University Book Store back around 1947 or so. I was a teen-ager at the time. I read the book sorta bug-eyed and slurped up every word Nadi said. Katherine Modrell, my first fencing teacher, had pointed out the obvious: that since I couldn't carry the attack to my opponent very effectively, I would have to build a strong defense and a fast and accurate riposte. When I hit the chapter "Free Will in Defense" in Nadi's book, it was like tripping over the Holy Grail. "Hot damn!" sez I. That's bloody brilliant! I love it!" I knew all the parries by then, of course, so I went to work learning the combinations Nadi suggested.

I'd really recommend getting the book if at all possible. Nadi explains it much better than I did above (actually giving a bunch of combinations to practice that sweep all lines), and gives several more ideas as well, such as playing it to the very edge, ignoring the feints, and parrying la finale only before riposting—much to the frustration of the attacker.

I wore out a couple of hard-back copies of the book, and managed, luckily, to get a copy of the paperback reprint when it came out a few years ago. Apparently it's no longer available, except at used bookstores, and some of them want the deed to your ranch and your firstborn child for a copy. OBSERVE.

In 1950, while at Halberstadt's in San Francisco, Gerry Biagini (who was on the U. S. Olympic team at the time—tall, skinny, faster than greased lightning, and a very nice guy) gave me a lot of clues about spotting when an attack was a split second away from being launched. "You don't have to watch your opponent's hand or blade. Well, in fact, you do, but you shouldn't really focus on it. Keep your eyes sufficiently wide-focused so you can take in his chest and front foot. No matter what kind of feints and razzle-dazzle he throws at you, his real attack isn't coming until you see his chest and his front foot begin to move forward at the same time." [he's actually launching his lunge—DF]. "Also," Gerry continued, "everybody has little mannerisms that they are not aware of. Keep an eye out for what he does unconsciously. Some guys chew gum or something like that because their mouth gets dry while fencing. When they stop chewing (sometimes while they're chewing, you can see their mask bob a little bit), look out. He's coming. Things like that can telegraph the attack."

I put that to work when I got back to Seattle, and one of the first things I noticed when fencing with Jack Nottingham (who had taken a year's lessons for Aldo Nadi) was that, just a split second before he would lunge, he'd lick his lips! And I could see him do it through the mesh of his mask. Tip off!

Anybody can hurl himself at his opponent and jab away like a mad chef with a shish-kabob skewer. But there's a real art to playing a defensive game.

          Agile as a cat in all his movements and crouching a little as he fought, [Captain Leach] advanced and retreated by little leaps, testing the other's guard at each disengage.
          Erect and easily poised, parrying closely, and making no attempt to break ground, de Bernis mocked his antics, and sent a shiver of laughter through the spectators.
          "Are we fighting, Captain, or are we dancing a fandango?"
                                                                —from The Black Swan, by Raphael Sabatini

Good fencing!

Don Firth