I fought a student of mine last night.

Several students and I are forming a martial arts club here on campus. On Wednesday afternoons, we meet in the lobby of the guys’ dorm and practice submission grappling. Submission grappling is pretty much just like high-school wrestling, except instead of going to a pin, you go to a submission. The person has to “tap out” (tap three times, on the ground or on his opponent) to signal that he gives up. This is the equivalent of crying “uncle,” except that since chokes are allowed, we can’t rely on anyone being able to speak.

I’d just finished doing a few rounds with a beginner when he showed up and wanted to go. He hadn’t been training with us, but he’d had a year of judo and a semester of high school wrestling. He was about my size, maybe ten pounds heavier.

We started off on our knees (space constraints). I began feeling him out, pulling on his arms, looking for an opening. He was very aggressive, driving into me and pushing me back. I rolled backwards onto my back and drew him into my guard, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist. For the next several minutes we held that position, as he tried over and again to submit me. He tried to apply an Americana armlock, but he wasn’t able to get the right position since he was in my guard, and I was able to defend. He stood up and put all his weight onto my head with his own head as he tried to move my arms into position. He put his forearm on my throat and put all his weight on it, but I tucked my chin to my chest and defended.

I know several submissions from this position, but most of them depend on the opponent sitting back and trying to get out from between my legs, which he never tried. He kept his weight on my upper chest and head. Being that close, I could closely monitor his breathing – I was taking one breath for every two or three he took, so I guessed I was wearing him down.

And then, I saw the opportunity.

He had excellent balance and stability, but – whether from tiredness or something else – he eventually allowed himself to wobble a bit. When he did, I arched my back and threw my hips to one side. In slow-motion, I could see him flail a bit, then come crashing down to that side. I continued the roll, ending up sitting on his torso with my legs on either side. Immediately, I scooted up onto his upper chest, pushing his arms out of the way so I could get my knees up into his armpits. He bucked his hips up, trying to dislodge me, but by then, I wasn’t over his hips; besides, my balance was too good.

He started trying to roll over, trying to get to his hands and knees. This is a mistake that wrestlers always make; it’s what they’re trained to do. But wrestlers don’t have to worry about the Rear Naked Choke. I lifted my weight off his chest a little, happy to oblige him if he wanted to roll to his hands and knees. When he did, I tucked my feet under him and hooked the inside of his thighs with my heels (“getting my hooks in”). My right arm slithered around his neck and grabbed my left forearm, which was pushing on the back of his head. He realized what was happening, and grabbed my arm with his hands and pulled down to relieve the pressure. Now he didn’t have anything to support his upper body, so his face was in the carpet. He tried kick his legs out and dislodge my hooks, so I wound my legs deeper and further around his, much like a grapevine climbing a post. I pulled back with my arms and stretched him out with my legs, so he was flat against the ground. I was planning on how I was going to get those arms off of my choking arm, when I felt it: three weak taps.

“Tap,” I said, and climbed off.