Page 183 - The Art of Learning by Josh Waitzkin_Neat plip book

Interestingly, months before the compet ition the organ izers told us tha t
there would be thirty seconds between rounds and we found out upo n arriving

in Taiwan that it was one minute. So I had been doing thi s one- minut e interval
work with the team largely as a training mechan ism to work on go ing all-out
without overextending, and also to conden se recovery time. Now we sho wed up
and there were one-minute breaks bet ween rounds . Thei r switch pl ayed right

into our hands. I knew I could spen d every last drop if I had to, and the n I
would be back and okay sixty seconds later if I lay on my back br eathi ng
deeply. I looked like a dead man between r ounds , but was
Round two. He shot right in at the bell. I hel d hi m off, gav e hi m the

underhooks, locked down, cranked , right , left, he went with it, but the n I
caught him on the third try, spun hi m out of the ring and ont o the fl or. The se
guys are great technicians and I really figur ed out how to shut the m do wn. By
just giving them that first position they were so us ed to fi ing for, I created a

new battlefield. There was no resistance wher e they expect ed it and the n muc h
more where they were less prepared. Amazing how it all started with an old
shoulder injury.
I was in his head and up 2–0. He looked conf us ed. Then the conf us ion

turned to desperation and he charged me, put ting everythi ng he ha d int o one
last attack, torquing wildly, out of cont rol. I went with the force, lande d on my
feet, and used the momentum to toss him out of the ring and ont o the fl or.
Round and match were mine.

I watched the Buffalo annihilate another oppo nen t. Just hi m and me in
Moving Step for the title. I still di dn’t see a weaknes s in his game, but I ha d a
plan. There were forty-five minutes bef ore my Fi xed Step semis and I ha d a
rough time. My shoulder hurt so bad ly, I coul dn’t lift my right arm up pa st my

waist. I was all banged up, black eye, forehead one bi g rug bur n, pa in all
through me. The shoulder had me concerned. Dan and I were the only guy s on
our team left in the main draw and we spr awled on the mats whi le teammates
massaged our legs, shoulders, arms. I put on my ho od, sat in a corne r, and

hoped my body could hold out for thr ee more matches; t hen it di dn’t matter.
They called me up for Fixed Step semis and it took a lot to walk over to the
ring. My opponent was somebody I had been watching thr ougho ut the
tournament—in his forties, barrel-chested, serene, and po werful , the man ha d

the feeling of a samurai. He was older than almost all the compet itors, the onl y
guy his age still in the competition. I had watched him dispen se with younge r,