Feature: Swordplay with Safford

The Stan Sieja Fencing room of Jadwin Gymnasium can be an intimidating place for an outsider. It has championship banners, dozens of metallic fencing strips and, most importantly, lots of swords. As if the room itself was not daunting enough to put me in a cold sweat, Safford stared me down with her sword drawn.

I know very little about the sport of fencing, which is somewhat surprising given my affinity for sharp objects and weapons. So last week, Zoltan Dudas, head coach of the men’s and women’s varsity fencing teams, allowed me to sit in on practice to get a better understanding of the sport.

After Dudas filled me in on the sport’s basics, I spoke at length with Safford. She has competed internationally, and this season has been her best yet. In December, she won a Junior World Fencing event in Burgos, Spain, and she recently won first-team Ivy honors.

Safford found an epee and glove for me to examine and pointed out its many features, including the blade, the grip, the bell guard, and the dull electronic tip that only triggers when it touches an opponent’s conductive jacket. She also explained the complicated system of electronics that makes fencing so precise. Fencers and their swords are actually wired to a scoring system at all times during competition.

I had had enough learning in the abstract; it was time to immerse myself fully in the sport, and so I challenged Safford to a bout. She looked confused at first, perhaps not understanding why I was volunteering to be stabbed repeatedly. After a moment of hesitation, she found me a thick Kevlar jacket and a mask and helped me attach the cord in my jacket to the master scoring system.

Fencing is played in “bouts,” which are periods of three minutes or five points, whichever comes first. Points are earned for touching an opponent in the target area with the appropriate part of the sword. Although there are three types of fencing — foil, saber, and epee — I was only concerned with the epee, in which the whole body is the target and hits must be made with the tip of the blade.

Safford walked me over to a fencing strip at the far end of the room, grabbed a friend to act as referee and put on her mask. I cautiously put on my own mask and tried to brandish my epee in a threatening way. Safford immediately began walking towards me, and I panicked and pulled the sword up next to my head with both hands. I instinctively took a baseball batter’s stance, preparing to try to smack her with the blade in a way not remotely resembling proper technique.

“Wait! You’ve got your mask on wrong. Pull it all the way down,” she said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Not knowing how to wear any of the equipment, I had left a large part of my neck exposed. Thank God the blades are not sharp, I thought. Safford walked back to her starting place and took a stance that seemed to say “en garde.”

“The match starts after a salute,” she yelled.

I timidly raised my blade to match hers, and then without warning, it started. She took a small step forward. I waved my sword around like an idiot, expecting to catch her off-guard. When she casually flicked my blade out of the way, I knew I was in trouble. I began to take one small step backward for each step forward she took, but with the back of the strip coming up quickly I started to panic again. I jabbed at her blindly, catching her in the left shoulder, but at the same moment, I felt a surprisingly strong thud in the right side of my chest. I looked down, and I saw Safford’s tip. A buzzer sounded, and the monitor on the scoring system changed from 0-0 to 1-1.

Because our touches occurred within one thirty-secondth of a second of each other, we were both awarded a point. I was ecstatic. Through sheer luck I had managed a hit.

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The process repeated. We returned to our starting points and saluted. Again, Safford had me on my heels, but I managed to awkwardly swat her blade, barely resisting the urge to make “Star Wars” lightsaber sound effects. I waved blindly again while she was momentarily off-guard and caught her sword arm, making it 2-1.

But my lucky streak had just about run out. Safford had assessed my weaknesses, and through the next four points, she dodged all of my blind swats and caught me off-balance, scoring four hits in less than 30 seconds to win the bout 5-2. There were no opportunities for me to score again.

I learned things from my adventure in Jadwin that did not follow my preconceived notions of fencing. For example, I learned that there is actually more than one variation of fencing, that scoring is done with an elaborate system of electronics and that bouts rarely, if ever, degenerate into no-holds-barred melees such as that of the James Bond movie “Die Another Day.”

Other things surprised me because they exactly followed the fencing stereotype. Safford explained the names of the basic techniques and footwork, but they sounded too French for me to understand. Also, fencers do in fact say “en garde” and “touche.”

I was glad to be done, and I thanked Safford and Dudas for showing me the basics of a sport I would have otherwise never understood. The experience was eye-opening, and I now have a greater respect for fencing. I encourage sports fans at Princeton to attend a fencing competition during their time here to get a feel for this unique and technical sport. You may be surprised, as I was, by how much you did not know about the sport of fencing.