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His eyes snap to mine, and any softness that was present immediately disappears. “You want to work on sweeps. What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “My plan is to work on sweeps? Now you expand on that plan. Isn’t that what we do?”
He stares at me for a moment as his hands form fists at his sides, then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he motions for me to get down on the mat. “You’re weakest in setting them up. We’ll work on hip bump, scissor, butterfly and pendulum sweeps. You’re usually in a scramble when trying for a sweep, and the mechanics of these easily translate anywhere.”
“Um, wow. Rude.” I hold up my hand with a scoff. “Also, most sweeps come out of a scramble. Hence, the need to sweep.”
“Most of yours do.” He nods, and I narrow my eyes at him. “But if you want to control the fight, like you strikers apparently do, you need to think ahead and plan a sweep. If you fight with a plan you won’t need to be in a scramble and can put your opponent in the position you want them in so you can move out of defense and attack.”
I groan, rolling my head back. “Here we go again.”
Ty shrugs. “Fine.”
As he turns to leave, I sigh loudly and dramatically drop my hands to my sides. “Ok, ok.”
Ty stops and turns to face me, crossing his arms.
Waiting.
“Oh, fuck you,” I say, crossing my arms as well.
But he simply stares back at me. And now I want to walk away.
But I can’t. Because as much as it pains me to admit… he’s fucking right.
“Ok, yeah.” I throw my hands up in defeat. “I scramble. Whatever. A lot of fighters do, so…” I sigh and gesture to the mats, “let’s hip bump.”
Ty shoots me a look as he walks to the mat. “Scissor.”
“Hm,” I shake my head as I drop to my knees, “doesn’t quite work for our mechanics, does it?”
He rolls his eyes with a sigh as he lowers himself to the mat and pushes me onto my back. “You’re fucking insufferable.”
“Oh, that’s a step up from annoying. This just keeps getting better.” I smile up at him as I wrap my legs around his waist, putting us into closed guard position.
“Stop two posts on one side, then–” he starts, but I wave him off.
“Yeah, yeah, I know how to do a scissor sweep.”
The embers in his eyes light once again as he glares down at me. But he gathers himself with an exhale and shakes his head slightly. “Alright then. Show me.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes, as it’s not like I’m a beginner at grappling. Far from it. He does not need to walk me through a simple fucking scissor sweep.
So, sure. I’ll fucking show him.
Immediately, I go for a two-on-one grip on his left arm to isolate that post, grabbing his upper arm with one hand and his lower arm with the other. Gotcha, motherfucker.
But the second I open my legs, he’s moving.
He drops his left forearm onto the mat, my grip doing nothing to stop him. I have no idea what he’s doing, and it actually seems like he may have just made this easier for me. My left leg drops to his knee, and I push off the mat to roll him onto his back. But he brings his outside foot to the mat, stopping the roll and pushing back against me. And suddenly he’s popping up onto his knees before I can even shift my weight, and he has full control of my arm.
He pauses, looking down at me as I shoot daggers up at him.
“Would you prefer an armbar or to continue in defense against side control?”
I pull my arm out of his grip and sit up on the mat. “You’re an asshole.”
He huffs and shakes his head. “You said you could do it.”
