Alright folks, today’s session was all about getting smacked around by bigger, stronger guys. Yeah, sounds fun, right? Wanted to see if all that fancy footwork and speed stuff actually works when someone’s got like fifty pounds on you.
The Start Was… Brutal
First day walking into the advanced sparring class feeling confident? Big mistake. Grabbed a partner, this dude towering over me, pure muscle. Bell rings. Tried dancing around, popping quick jabs. Felt like a fly buzzing around a bear. He just ignored my taps, ate one step forward, WHAM. Felt like a truck hit me. Went down. Hard. Got up? WHAM again. Coach yelling felt distant. All my “technique”? Worthless. Spent most of that round tasting canvas.
Realizing My Plan Was Pure Horseshit
Sat out the next round, breathing heavy, ego bruised worse than my ribs. Watched this other smaller guy actually doing okay against a bigger opponent. What was he doing? Not trying to out-muscle or even land flashy combos. He stayed INSIDE the big guy’s reach somehow. Made the big guy fight small. Used his legs like crazy, constantly off-balancing him. He wasn’t winning exchanges, just making the big guy clumsy and slow. Lightbulb moment: It wasn’t about trading blows. It was about disrupting their foundation.
Swapping Theory for Glue and Aggression
Okay, new plan. Next session, my goal wasn’t to land punches. My goal was to stick to him like glue and constantly mess with his feet. Sounds dumb, right?
- Step One: The second he jabs, I didn’t back up. I stepped forward and slightly to the side, getting into that pocket where his power hand couldn’t line up right. Got elbowed a few times learning the hard way – stay glued but keep your head tucked!
- Step Two: My hands? Mostly busy blocking or pushing his arms. Not trying to punch, just tying him up. Made him frustrated. Every time he pushed me away, I bull-rushed back in instantly. Annoying mosquito strategy.
- Step Three: Became obsessed with his legs. Anytime I felt his weight shift, even slightly, I shoved or pulled his lead shoulder. Didn’t need huge force, just the right timing. Saw him wobble once? Kicked his lead leg as he recovered. Not hard, just enough to remind him his base was under attack.
Survived More Than Fought
Didn’t look pretty. Zero highlight-reel moments. Got tangled up a lot. Took some lumps working inside. But round after round, something changed. The big guys stopped looking confident. They started looking frustrated, maybe a bit tired. They tried harder to shove me away, wasting energy. I ate a few solid shots, sure, but nothing like that first day’s truck hits. I was still standing at the end, moving, making them work. For a smaller guy? That felt like progress.
What Actually Matters (Spoiler: It Ain’t Size)
Here’s the messy truth after getting tossed around for weeks:
- Distance > Speed: Fast hands mean nothing if you’re fighting at the big guy’s favorite distance. Get uncomfortably close or get knocked out. Period.
- Disruption > Power: Trying to punch through muscle is stupid. Shove his shoulder when he plants his foot. Kick his leg when he steps forward. Make his strength work against his balance.
- Stamina > Strength: Being aggressive, constantly closing distance, messing with balance? It’s EXHAUSTING for them. Survive the first minute, make them work, and watch them fade.
- Mental Game > All: Walking into their space, eating a shot to disrupt their feet? Takes serious guts. You flinch? You hesitate? You lose instantly. Gotta embrace the messy, ugly fight.
Still not beating giants clean. But now I know size isn’t an auto-loss. It’s about forcing a different, uglier fight where reach and raw power matter less. You gotta glue yourself in, attack the base, and refuse to let them fight comfortably. Anything else is just waiting to get crushed.
