The Twin Sports
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Title
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The Twin Sports
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Date
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April 1940
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volume
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5
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issue
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2
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page start
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6
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page end
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6
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list of authors
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Roy S. Tinney
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content
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en
Plaudits from a Dual Sportsman
Every true fencer knows that his sport is the best he could have chosen for the exercise, excitement of competition, and lifelong enjoyment. To a fencer these things are self-evident. No matter what other sport or exercise he may undertake, his experience as a fencer stands him in good stead. Unfortunately, the reverse is not true. The fencer is so delicately trained that participation in other sports usually tends to reduce his effectiveness. This very fact probably proves its supremacy more than anything else, the fact that it gives benefits elsewhere without receiving any.
Mr. Roy S. Tinney of the New Jersey Crime Detection Laboratory, an authority on firearms and a fencer, wrote an interesting uncopyrighted article for a recent issue of The Gun Trader. He has kindly granted us permission to reprint this article in full or part, and we present his interesting comments relative to fencing and the fencer’s reactions.
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The Twin Sports
By Roy S. Tinney
Were I forced to choose twixt one sport or the other, I would cling to the blades and put aside my guns, because:
(1) To fence even reasonably well calls for many hours of study, instruction, and practice, affording one the maximum amount of relaxation, complete change, and exercise for both body and mind. A well-nigh perfect recreation.
(2) Fencing can be enjoyed both indoors and out, under conditions where it would be impossible to fire a shot.
(3) There is always the pleasant and profitable association with other people interested in swordplay. Though fencing is the most aristocratic of sports, fencers are never “high hat.” They judge a man for what he is, not who he is. The participants are not confined to a restricted group of wealthy sportsmen.
No other sport calls for a smaller initial investment in the required equipment, and maintenance costs are so low they will not upset the most modest of budgets. Yet there is nothing cheap about fencing. It costs plenty in time one never begrudges spending; in practice one always enjoys; in study that never becomes dry or uninteresting. Like other valuable things in life, the price is high, yet only a small part of the cost is expressed in money.
Skill in marksmanship is founded on a highly perfected degree of coordination; the ability to compel one’s muscles to obey the commands of the brain. Nowhere is that better exemplified than in pistol shooting, where the body must remain relaxed while a few muscles in the arm and hand are required to function with machine-like precision. That is particularly true in rapid fire and double action revolver events, the shot-a-second stage of the battle course on man targets. Extremely practical pistol shooting, calling for poise and balance, coolness and rhythm. Speed without haste. The ability to act swiftly, yet retain a reasonable degree of precision. Time and time again I have seen a really fine slow fire shot go completely haywire when called upon to fire against the speeding seconds ticked off by a stopwatch, simply because the element of speed-plus-accuracy had not been included in his training.
The fencer is not so handicapped. Slowly, a bit awkwardly at first, the swordsman serves his apprenticeship, pausing now and then to remark, “Little muscle, where have you been all my life?” Gradually his legs acquire the required spring to execute a quick lunge and a smart recovery; his arms function as they should; his hand responds to the commands of his brain; he begins to understand the true meaning of poise and balance. Gradually finding himself, he experiences a sense of well-being, a calm confidence he never before possessed. Actions, formerly requiring thought, become reflex and he can speak intelligently of “Tempo” and “the feel of the blade.” Anyone going that far will never willingly give up fencing.
Hand the fencer a pistol and his progress is swift and sure. He possesses a fundamental training the other shooters lack. He is neither flustered nor annoyed by rapid fire, because fencing is always speed-plus-precision. The very things other tyros dread, the fencer finds most enjoyable. The swordsman also soon discovers something most shooters never learn: the first aim is the best aim; to delay is disastrous. Many of the finest pistol scores I have ever witnessed were fired rapidly.
The fencer also notes the striking similarity between the way one holds a French foil and the way the pistol is grasped. Both call into play the same muscles of the hand in much the same way. The use of the forefinger in directing the point is so strikingly similar to the vital element of “trigger squeeze.” Having been already taught to think and act in split seconds, the fencer is never bothered by “freezing,” that agonizing moment when the brain commands “fire” and the forefinger stages a sit-down strike until the sights have wandered far, far from the bull. And the fencer, having already acquired a substantial degree of poise and balance, soon acquires the stance best suited to him with no strain or discomfort to be endured.
Fencing and pistol shooting are twin sports. Both call for a one-hand weapon controlled by the wrist. Duels have been fought with both sword and pistol since the days of the first firelock. And what was once a brutal and unsatisfactory method of settling disputes has today become a fine recreation that injures no one and benefits all who participate in the sport.
