Today you wont be hearing from me and my adventures, but a story from one of our new fighters, Thomas, breaking in to our world!
“Are you coming to Rebellion, mate?” was the casual and nonchalant question posed to me over and over by my teammates just a few short months into my buhurt training. “What’s that?”, I replied, eager to know more. Was this a get together with other fighters? Was it a tournament? Would there be an opportunity to get into some armour myself and actually try this buhurt thing out for real? The answer to all of these was a resounding “yes” and I could not wait to get stuck in. It was still a few months to go before Rebellion though and the tales and stories began to filter in, along with the nerves. Nevertheless, I was determined to go and prove to myself that I could do this. I’d started training because I wanted to be a fighter and well, here was the opportunity. All I had to do now was train hard, turn up and give it my best shot. That was, until another opportunity presented itself: National Training.
“What is it and where is it?” I asked naively as I got into the car on the day. Like Pippin asking the Fellowship where they were going after already agreeing to join the quest. The trailblazing attitude of I don’t care where it is, what it is or how good I need to be to do it got me saying “yes” to Rebellion and now this. As far as I understood, it was for the big boys. I was going to be a small prawn, barely noticed amidst a sea of experienced fighters preparing for glory on the world stage. Oh how wrong I was.
Before I could say “What’s going on?” I was armoured up and flailing my way through the chaos of a 12v12 sparring match. My first real taste of life in the list and Lord, did I catch the bug. After a good few rounds and lots of being thrown to the floor, I had a better idea of what the sport was going to entail and also perhaps what to expect from Rebellion. Oh how wrong I was again.
Rebellion rolled around the following weekend and I was a wreck of excitement and apprehension. The fights were going to be smaller. Maybe 5’s or 3’s depending on how many new guys showed up. A far cry from what I’d experienced at National Training. I felt the weight of responsibility. The high standard I set myself. If I went down early, it would sway the whole fight dramatically. In the 12’s I felt like just another number. A mere body for the grinder. Here, it was more real. My actions had weight and I didn’t want to let my teammates down. I wanted to come out the gates hard and win.
The morning saw the newbies (myself included) armouring up and getting ready to fight. The aptly named ‘Rookie Rumble’ was a chance for new guys to get stuck in, some in armour for the first time ever. It was a series of friendly 3v3 matches with nothing truly at stake. However, everyone fought like their life depended on it. It was f*****g awesome. The determination and will to win from everyone involved was a real testament to the fighting spirit fostered by all the chapters in ISCA. I felt very proud to wear my chapter’s colours for the first time in the list too. All of the more experienced guys lined up around the outside and were cheering us on the whole time, having a great laugh and encouraging us to give it our all. After we newbies had done our fighting, there was a cute medal ceremony and a real feeling of community and comradery. New friendships were made in the list that morning, and what better way to make friends than punching them in the face?
The afternoon then was an opportunity to watch the big boys fight it out for the ISCA Shield. A new trophy that was only ever going to be coming home with one chapter; The Devon Drakes. The fights were intense. The laughs were hearty. The pain was real and the victory deserved. Rebellion had promised much and delivered so much more. It had been an incredible introduction to the community of ISCA, and one which I will never forget.
Concerning everything that happened next, there is only one thing to say:
“It’s Rebellion, man.”
