Let me share the real experience of competing in tournaments here in Brazil.
The good parts? The bad parts?
Mostly bad. LOL.
But let’s be honest — this applies to tournaments everywhere.
First: “Punctuality” (LOL)
Your bracket is scheduled for 9 AM.
You will never fight at 9 AM.
There’s always a delay. Always.
Could be registration issues. Could be the previous divisions running late. Could be the organizers just… forgot?
Who knows.
Plan to fight at 9 AM. Actually fight at 11 AM. Standard.
Second: The Weighing Scale Battle
If you don’t know: your weigh-in happens right before your fight.
And here’s the kicker — the tournament scale is never the same as your gym scale.
Never.
You weighed in perfectly at home? Congratulations. You’re now 2 kilos over at the venue.
This is always the first battle of the day.
And normally, I had to sprint to the bathroom right after.
(Remember the toilet paper? Yeah.)
Third: The Warm-Up Area (AKA Anxiety Central)
You enter the warm-up area and immediately start analyzing everyone.
“Is that guy in my division?”
“Did he compete at Worlds?”
“Why does he look so calm?”
More anxiety. More bathroom trips.
(Unless you already stalked everyone’s social media after the brackets dropped. Don’t lie — you did it too.)
Then you start warming up.
Sometimes the delay is so long that you get tired in the warm-up area.
Oh, and I forgot to mention — I also have asthma.
So that’s fun.
Fourth: The Fight (Why You’re Here)
This is the real deal. The reason you came.
To feel your opponent’s grip.
To understand their game.
To completely forget everything about your own game.
It’s pure survival mode.
All that technique you drilled for months? Gone.
Just you, your opponent, and primal instinct.
Fifth: The Breath (Or Lack Thereof)
Win or lose, sometimes you have to fight again.
And believe me — the energy you burned in that first match is more than an entire training session.
You want to rest for a few hours.
You get 15 minutes.
Maybe.
And then you go again.
Asthma? Still there. Great.
Sixth: Final Results (The Real Mystery)
After all your fights, you might end up on the podium.
Or not.
But here’s the real problem:
That guy you always tap in training? He got first place in his division.
You didn’t.
What’s the trick? C’mon. Tell me.
How does this work?
(Spoiler: Competition is a different animal. We all learn this the hard way.)
Seventh: The Wait (The Actual Worst Part)
This is it. The worst one.
The wait to go home.
Here in Brazil, we usually share cars to split costs. Smart, right?
Except you can only leave after everyone has fought.
Your bracket was at 9 AM (well, 11 AM after delays).
Your teammate’s bracket? 6 PM.
That’s an endless wait.
Uncomfortable chairs. Nowhere to shower. The smell of 400 sweaty gis in one room.
You’re exhausted. Starving. But you can’t leave.
So you sit. And wait. And wonder why you do this to yourself.
The Takeaway
Tournaments are brutal.
The delays. The scale. The anxiety. The exhaustion. The waiting.
But somehow, a week later, you’re already thinking about the next one.
Because that’s the thing about BJJ — even the worst parts are worth it.
(But seriously, always bring toilet paper.)
What’s the worst part of tournaments for you? Drop it in the comments.