Royler and Rorion next to Rickson, the newest grandmaster of BJJ.

After four decades as a BJJ teacher, Rickson Gracie has achieved the title of grandmaster. The graduation took place last Thursday during a seminar of his in Las Vegas. Red-belt Rorion Gracie, his eldest brother, organized the surprise alongside the likes of Alvaro Barreto, Royler Gracie, Jean Jacques Machado, Fabio Melo, Pedro Sauer, Fabrício Werdum and Rubens Cobrinha.

Rorion and the group entered the room as a clueless Rickson was talking. After his ninth degree was given him, Rickson spoke about time spent at each belt, and said he was keeping his red belt to be able to use the coral belt for another five years and receive the ninth degree at the proper time.

But Royler, Rorion and Alberto Barreto insisted that Rickson was ready to become a grandmaster. Rickson complied, accepting the belt and the title. You can watch the historic moment in this video.

Patriarch: Robson is now the oldest Gracie still alive. Photo: Carlos Arthur Jr. / GRACIEMAG

Robson Gracie, who completed on January 16, 80 years old is now the oldest member of the family that is still alive. Dozens of people gathered to congratulate the grandmaster along with their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Sons Renzo and Ralph Gracie came from the United States directly to the event.

Robson takes on his waist the imposing red belt, and years of experience with the gentle art.

Robson’s birthday party. Photo: personal archives

The son of the great grandmaster Carlos Gracie has spent valuable tips for the evolution of the Jiu-Jitsu lover, whether competitive or not. Check it out:

The essence of Jiu-Jitsu

“Jiu-Jitsu is a spiritual art. Monks and higher beings, as it was the great visionary Master Carlos Gracie first captured the message of Jiu-Jitsu. If you train, you can understand it easily. My father, Carlos, would sat down to talk with you and had the power to see a movie with all the subject’s life before his eyes. It is a divine force.”

The Fighter’s mission

“Jiu-Jitsu teaches cowardly to be brave, and abject beings to become human. A grip in the kimono or a choke has an extrasensory power so great that even a skinny person can do it. No matter if the opponent is stronger, it will work. “

Jiu-Jitsu against depression

“Jiu-Jitsu is able to transform failure. I once met an old friend, who told me that I was responsible for his life, because after so many hot flashes in training, he just felt choked by life and even thought about killing himself. Then he remembered the lessons of Jiu-Jitsu to stay calm and get up again. “

History and gentle art of efficiency

“The happiest day of my life was when Carlos Gracie, still young, jumped a fence to get a mango, and a big dog came to attack him. No alternative, he faced the beast, applied a rear naked choke, turned off the animal and figured all out. That’s where it all started. “

Paquet faleceu aos 78 anos. Foto: Arquivo Pessoal/Facebook

A comunidade do Jiu-Jitsu sofreu uma grande baixa neste domingo, dia 17 de novembro. Aos 78 anos, Renato Paquet faleceu e deixou tristeza aos parentes e amigos ligados ao mestre.

Ele, que começou no Jiu-Jitsu em 1956, passou por diversas academias até se instalar em definitivo na CheckMat de Copacabana, onde treinava com famosos faixas-pretas de lá. O mestre, que também era faixa-preta de judô e tinha dois títulos cariocas de Boxe, era faixa-vermelha de nono grau.

Sempre mostrando energia, Mestre Renatão não conseguia ficar longe dos tatame, como mostra o vídeo abaixo, gravado este ano, onde Paquet da um rola com o líder da CheckMat Ricardinho Vieira.

Ficam aqui registrados os sentimentos de toda a equipe GRACIEMAG aos familiares do grão mestre Renato Paquet.

Master Sá and his sons Sazinho (left) and Robson (right)

Jiu-Jitsu lost one of its Masters this past Tuesday in Brazil.

Francisco Sá, 77, passed away due to a heart failure at home in Fortaleza, Ceará.

The red-belt was one of the most respected Professors in Brazil.

In the last months, master Sá was battling a skin cancer.

His son, black belt Francisco Sá (Sazinho), wrote about his father on Facebook: “He was an example in everything he did, and leaves a legacy of endless struggles with morals and honor in martial arts and in particular our Jiu-Jitsu. Dad, thanks for everything, I’m sorry for all the work that I gave to you. Know that my brothers and I will honor your name and its history until the last day of our lives. I do not say goodbye but see you soon. God be with Dad and know that I mirrored myself on you all my life! The pain and the missing is indescribable.”

Master Sá is survived by three sons, black belts Francisco Sazinho, Guybson Sá and purple-belt Róbson Sá.

Grandmaster Carlson ringside in Japan, in a striking photo by Susumu Nagao. Photo: Archives, GRACIEMAG

Carlson Gracie was born on August 13, 1933, but celebrated his birthdays on the twelth to be safe. In fact, he was not born Carlson, but Eduardo. A few weeks later Grandmaster Carlos Gracie decided that his first child should have a stronger name with the letters C and R – a tradition that started with Carlson and would go on to be a mark of the family. On the day the red-belt who died in 2006 would have turned 80, GRACIEMAG recalls some episodes involving the teacher who changed the face of Jiu-Jitsu, through the text of one of his most loyal black-belts, Vinicius Cruz. Happy reading, and thanks, Carlson.

*****

Think of a unique guy: that was Carlson Gracie.

He did not give a damn about money and made no distinction of people based on status. His sincerity was rough, bordering on rudeness, whether he was with a beggar or the president. That was Carlson.

I had the opportunity to know him as a boy and always had the dream to wear that kids’ gi that read ‘Carlson Gracie Jiu-Jitsu’ on the back. And, when classes at the gym of teacher Manimal began to run too late, I saw the opportunity to make that dream become reality.

I’ll tell you something that those who experienced it will have to agree on: when you went Carlson, you did not go back! Yes, Carlson was addictive.

There’d always be injured fighters, which were not few, that went to the gym just to be on the sofa in the sitting room, to get the chance to listen to Carlson grumble when someone abandoned a kimura to do anything else – he loved the kimura.

Or they’d go there to take a ‘hawk paw’ to the top of the head (Carlson joined fingers and slapped your head with his fingertips) when you dared say someone deserved to move up in belt. Incidentally, if you wanted to see a guy languish in his current belt, all it took was telling Carlson that the guy was tough and deserved to be promoted. You’d earn yourself a hawk paw, you’d get called a belt pimp, and the poor guy, who had no fault in the matter, would get a few more years at that same belt.

More often, however, we’d go just to be ruthlessly teased when he decided to play dictation with the class that was packing the room. He’d pull his notebook from his pocket and you’d get called a dumbass as soon as you spelled something wrong.

And I laughed my ass off.

It seems strange, but anyway … Commoners in the presence of the greatest of all, and he was there as one of us, always. I remember a time when I was in the lounge and he ordered: ‘Vinicinho, grab a paper and a pen.’

I got from uncle Amauryzão, father of Amaury Bitetti, a pen to start the dictation. Then he, with that air of someone who wanted to mess with me, said: ‘Write the name of that little bone at the end of the spine, the coccyx …’

I luckily knew and wrote right; amazed, he cried, with his peculiar sincerity: ‘Eeh! This one didn’t cut class then! ‘

Carlson was so unique that while people dreamed of a new car, or something like that, he spent all his money buying CDs, cassettes or taking his students to the steakhouse. And the gift that gave him the most joy was a simple whirligig. I swear. He was like a child, playing with that thing for hours.

When guys like that go away they always leave their mark. Indelible.

Carlson would create a slang, or bring a word from the cockfighting scene to the Jiu-Jitsu milieu, and voila! In a month the word was already on everyone’s lips. What Brazilian fighter hasn’t heard someone be called a ‘creonte’ or ‘mutuca’? These are words that transcended the boundaries of the gym and are now used by fighters of every martial art in the country. Not to mention his ‘dictionary game’ and the world-renowned ‘powerfulness test.’

It was not just that intrinsic shine he carried in his soul that made him unique. His brilliance as a teacher, and especially as a coach, were unparalleled. Carlson had a keen eye. He was able to unveil a position, one which for us was mind-bending, in two or three simple moves.

I often saw my idols studying positions (yes, I had the privilege of sharing the mat with my idols and become great friends with them), and Carlson would come and say: ‘Do this and that …’ and he’d find a quick and simple defense to a position which until a few moments ago looked indefensible. In competitions, it was almost a ritual to finish our fights and go hug him, whether he was one of the organizers, or in the stands, where he liked to stay on the edge, leaning with his arms hanging. And when Carlson was watching you’d fight harder.

I also saw, many times, on Figueiredo Magalhães street where qualifiers were held for competitions, that two guys would start fighting in the dojo and then go to the bathroom to finish up. No one liked to lose in front of the old master.

I remember it all with a tightness in the chest, and I say without a second thought, it was the best time of my life. I’d get there in the morning and find Carlson Gracie Jr. teaching class. In the afternoon, I’d be sitting on the bench at the 3 p.m. class, just to get scolded by black belt Marcelo Alonso. Sounds crazy, but I liked to take Alonso’s scolding; I did not know him very well yet, and this was his way of knowing that I existed.

Then later in the evening I’d take the class of teacher Saporito, always full of champions (Luiz Sergio Barros, Daniel Christoph, Paulão Filho, Maurício Cobrinha Azul, Pedro Babu, Dudu Barros, Bernardo Zuza, Zé Emilio, Daniel Cardoso and many others). And finally, I’d relish free practice, on the delicious right-side mat, when I’d find Murilo, Amaury, Bebeo, Libório, Parrumpinha, Wallid, Allan Góes, Rogério Miranda, Marcel Ferreira, Eduardo Lerner, Eduardo Lins, Alexandre Macedo, Sergio Abimehry and master Rosado – who appeared from time to time, squashed everyone and left – among many others.

The memory of the old master lives with us in every story, every workout. And to me, every time I go up those stairs on 414 Figueiredo Magalhães St., a movie plays in my head, of him telling me to listen to Edith Piaf, scolding me when he heard of any hijinks, or giving me a ride back to Morada do Sol… It’s all tattooed on me, and motivates me to teach what he taught me one day without even trying: Jiu-Jitsu deserves to be known by everyone, not just those who have money to pay.

I hope to be lying on the mats of life, always, until the divine laws do not allow me anymore, learning, teaching, and especially raising the flag of the biggest myth in the history of contemporary martial arts.

Ten years ago, I was initiated in the endearing world of Jiu-Jitsu. (Photo by Dan Rod/GRACIEMAG)

Time sure flies when you’re having fun, but that’s how it is. A few days back I made it to one decade as a reporter for your favorite Jiu-Jitsu magazine, GRACIEMAG. So I decided to drum up a list of some of the things I’ve learned over all these years of exotic travels, precious lessons and keen observation.

1. The Japanese mafia

One time I was in Tokyo and Fedor Emelianenko approached me with a bottle of the purest Russian vodka and a porn magazine. I was on the clock, Emperor, and I kept my course down the hotel corridor. It was 2003, and on that same trip I took a foray around the city streets with Wanderlei Silva and Brazilian television reporter Glória Maria. During the excursion an old guy came up to share words with me and the Chute Boxe team members. To show he was a tough guy too, he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the tattoos on his arms and showed off the stump of his pinkie finger, a sort of badge of honor to the Yakuza mafia. I learned the quick and invaluable lesson that the MMA world is surrounded by nutcases on all sides—and I felt right at home.

2. Red belt in distress

One time I was in Rio de Janeiro’s South Side and I saw a red belt jammed in a vise-like triangle applied by a totally clueless black belt. The master, already late in years, was trying to point out to the young visitor where he was going wrong, but that wasn’t sinking in for the loopy fellow, who kept cranking on the hold. The red belt’s adrenaline kicked into turbo, and he said, “You started, might as well keep going.” And he got out simple as pie, before passing guard and finishing with a Kimura-like hold I’d never seen before. I learned that, in Jiu-Jitsu as with journalism, nothing beats technique. And years of experience.

3. The greatest Jiu-Jitsu photo

One time I was at our old newsroom, in the Barra da Tijuca section of Rio de Janeiro, and we were stuck trying to figure out what photo to represent a Jiu-Jitsu match in an article. There was a decent one where the winner was doing alright, and there was a spectacular one where the loser was kicking butt. We were at an impasse, until someone remembered a wise “lesson in journalism” from Carlos Gracie Jr.: “If someone prints a photo of you on all fours with your pants down and some guy coming up behind you, what’s the point of explaining in the subtitle that it’s not how it looks?” After the chortles had died down, we picked the photo where the winner was doing alright.

4. The day Steve Jobs saved my life

One time I was traveling in the Middle East and almost beat Caio Terra—in a donkey race. We were in Jordan for a championship and decided to go up the mountains of Petra at dusk. It got dark and we could only see at all because of the light emanating from Caio’s iPod (thanks, Steve Jobs). We were rescued by three kids and their burros. I learned that a reporter needs to always keep up with the latest technology; as that can, literally, save your life. I also found out that in a mule race, the lighter man always wins.

5. Listen to the advice of veteran journalists

It was my first trip abroad as a journalist, to cover an MMA event (in the video above). The editor-in-chief at the time, Luca Atalla, called me over to discuss story ideas. I suggested we interview Randy Couture, and he backed me. But he also asked me to speak with another fellow, one even more interesting: a part bald, part long-haired promotional head honcho who had lofty ideas about the future the UFC would be taking. “Gimme a break,” I thought at the time, “how can some executive be as curious a character as an athlete?” Once I was at the location, I didn’t put in enough effort and ended up not interviewing Dana White. I learned never to question the advice of a veteran reporter.

6. The value of knowing your way around on the ground

One time I was at a samba show during my off hours and went to drop a brunette off at home. A pleasant evening turned into a nightmare when the young lady’s ex-boyfriend showed up in a wrathful, drunken state. What was the worst part? I hadn’t been initiated in Jiu-Jitsu yet. With no way of avoiding conflict, I started replaying the mount techniques I’d gone over with red-and-black belt Redley Vigio and his son, Patrick, just days before in my head. It worked: we tangled up, I landed in the mount (feet up against the aggressor’s butt, weight resting on the hips), and the two slaps that followed brought the quarrel to a close, without injuries to anyone. Except for the poor guy’s heart.

7. Highway, dust and potholes for a glimpse at Anderson Silva

One time, without batting an eye, I took on a 1,126 km (700-mile) stretch of road from Rio de Janeiro to Vitória da Conquista, in the Northeast Brazilian State of Bahia. Twas for a noble reason: to witness Anderson Silva’s return—he’d sort of lost interest in his MMA career. At the hotel pool, with no fans or interruptions to speak of, I had a chat with Anderson about his early days boxing at Corinthians team, his first spars with the Nogueiras, and his dreams for the future. I often wonder whether the king of the UFC ever misses that empty dressing room, being able to read his book undisturbed between fights; and I think that, deep down, he doesn’t really miss it that much at all.

8. Ronaldo Jacaré and the fireflies

One time I found myself caught in a triangle by Ronaldo Jacaré, and my lights nearly went out. I saw the “fireflies” all Jiu-Jitsu fighters see when they come close to getting choked unconscious. Jaca didn’t do it to be mean. He was just showing me how the way he sinks the hold is different and just as effective as the classic way of doing it; but it left me groggy. There I learned that, in the MMA world, there’s a characteristic relationship between the reporter and the subject. How do you maintain the supposedly ideal relationship between the journalist and the source, “the same cordiality you would have with your neighbor on the seventh floor,” in the words of the wise Elio Gaspari, if you often have to roll around on the ground with the interviewee? The solution is to always just go for it, but being respectful of ethics and, especially, the reader.

9. Brazil’s toughest man

One time “Men’s Journal” printed an article on the 25 toughest men in the USA (Mel Gibson and Matt Hughes made the list), and we started banter in the newsroom about who the toughest living Brazilians were. The jabber turned into a story idea, and the team pulled it off masterfully, elevating Helio Gracie to number one atop a respectable list that included big-wave rider Rodrigo Resende and the writer Rubem Fonseca, along with a handful of ambassadors and senators. The magazine garnered plenty praise, even in the nation’s capital, Brasília, but we wanted to find out what the man on the cover thought about it. So we heard the frank opinion of Professor Helio: “You’re a bunch of boneheads. You put that fag in the thong bathing suit Gabeira on there.” I learned that, as Churchill once said, success is to go from defeat to defeat without losing your enthusiasm.

10. Rodrigo Minotauro and a mother’s plea

One time I was having breakfast with Minotauro in Japan, and I noted the arrival of the former basketball player Paulo Cesar “Giant” Silva. He was all alone, looking sad and melancholy like only fake fighters and clowns do. I introduced him to Rodrigo and his mother, who was there with her sons. Once Giant Silva had gone his way, Mino’s mom said to him: “Promise me one thing: with that guy, big as he is, you will never fight. You hear me, son?” Right there I learned that I should cover MMA with the utmost sensitivity, skipping verbs like “pound to a pulp” or “demolish” in the write-ups. After all, mothers read GRACIEMAG too.

Starting from the left: Pedro Valente, Rickson Gracie, Helio Vigio and João Alberto Barreto in the foreground at a February 2009 party for Helio Gracie / Photo by Gustavo Aragão

Today, November 21, Rickson Gracie turns a year older. His ID says he’s 54; but he doesn’t look it.

All thanks to Jiu-Jitsu and the breathing exercises the gentle-art ace has been practicing since he was 20 years old.

In these days of bullying and meanness, GRACIEMAG.com felt it appropriate to highlight the main lessons it has learned from the red-and-black belt.

“Through Jiu-Jitsu I learned to be a better person and look any adversary life throws my way right in the eye. And often that’s all it takes.”

Could you want anything better than that, avoiding a fight or altercation with no more than a look? Well, that tends to be the way it goes with Jiu-Jitsu practitioners, as our readers have seen time and again in life.

Today is also the birthday of another “young fellow” who learned the value of fearing no one from Helio Gracie.

His name is Pedro Valente, a 74-year-old red-belt and surgeon who is father to Jiu-Jitsu professors Joaquim, Pedro and Guilherme, as well as the athlete Joana Valente.

“I can’t remember a day in my life when I haven’t used the Jiu-Jitsu I learned from Helio Gracie. I’m not talking about just the techniques in training, but mainly the mind, the life philosophy. You know, you even use what you’ve learned in Jiu-Jitsu when you’re tying your shoes in the middle of the street,” Pedro Valente taught us one time.

So there you have our tribute to the two of them, on this special date for Jiu-Jitsu.

Dr. Pedro Valente giving his son a check-up in 2009 / Publicity photo

Pedro Valente with his teacher, João Alberto Barreto

“With a last name like mine (meaning “valiant” in Portuguese), I had a rough time as a kid at school,” remembered Dr. Pedro Valente, wearing a gi, as he told the story of how he got his start in Jiu-Jitsu. “My father told me that in his day he would say, ‘No way, it’s just my name that is Valiant,’ but I resolved to learn how to defend myself.”

That was how the lesson-, remembrance-, emotion- and friendly embrace-filled ceremony to decorate the surgeon with a Jiu-Jitsu red belt went yesterday at around 8:30pm at Gracie Humaitá academy in Rio de Janeiro, at Professor Relson Gracie’s behest.

Valente, who paused in silence to hold back tears when addressing his old friend and master, Helio Gracie, recounted stories of how he took up arms to defend his old friend and former governor of the state of Rio Leonel Brizola, and everyone in attendance ate it up.

After carefully and affectionately removing the red and black belt signed by Helio from around his waist, Pedro Valente had the red belt fastened on him by brothers Relson, Royler and Rolker, and by his first teacher, João Alberto Barreto, accompanied by Master Alvaro Barreto. On the video projection screen Rorion and Royce Gracie sent their congratulations to the father of the Valente brothers, of whom the father made mention: “Were it not for my sons and daughter, I would not still be training today.”

Helio Gracie, as always, was one of the stars, appearing in an old video reminding of Valente’s victories and achievements, inspiring laughter from Gracie Humaitá’s highest-ranking members.

Pedro Valente thus joins a select club of grandmasters. Officially registered by the IBJJF, there are but nine of them, due to complications in obtaining information by the highest governing body of Jiu-Jitsu on the planet. Check out the list of red belts on the IBJJF website, and to help resolve the issues in documenting and making your new belt (of any color) official, visit www.cbjj.com.br/filiar.htm or www.ibjjf.org/member.htm, or send an email to cbjj@cbjj.com.br or ibjjf@ibjjf.org.

Ninth-degree red belts up until 2010 (IBJJF):

Carlson Gracie
Julio Secco
Osvaldo Alves
Reyson Gracie
Amelio Arruda (Associação Oriente)
Deoclecio Paulo (Deo)
Francisco Mansor (Kioto)

Dr. Pedro Valente performing a checkup on his son in 2009 / Photo: publicity

A student of Helio Gracie, a doctor and teacher, Pedro Valente will receive the gentle art’s highest honor today, when he will be awarded his red belt in Jiu-Jitsu.

The ceremony will take place at 7:30 pm at the Gracie Humaitá dojo in Rio de Janeiro. The belt will be awarded by Master Gracie’s sons: Rickson, Relson, Royler and Royler, who will all be there; and Rorion sent a special video from the United States for the occasion.

Photographer Gustavo Aragão was one of the guests and captured all the excitement of the students and family members gathered to pay homage to a living legend of the gentle art, with 55 years just of Jiu-Jitsu.

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