Ethics of the Fencing Strip
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Title
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Ethics of the Fencing Strip
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Date
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December 1941
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volume
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6
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5
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15
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15
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en
Ethics Off the Fencing Strip
When you go out to Forest Hills for the national tennis championships, you don’t yell as McNeill goes back to kill a lob, or whistle as Riggs sprints after a hard forehand drive. You wait until the point is over before you clap, and if one of the players flubs a shot, you don’t clap at all.
If you travel to Winged Foot or Pebble Beach for the national open golf tournament, you certainly don’t make noises when Craig Wood addresses his ball, and if you so much as shuffle your feet when Ralph Guldahl is putting, half the gallery will stare you down. You maintain a silence so acute that the ticking of your watch is likely to embarrass you.
Over the years these sports have built up a code of spectator ethics that is pretty generally adhered to. The fans are usually quick to reprove any breach of this code.
But somehow fencing, even though it had reached a high point in its development before the first Scotsman began to bat a gutta-percha pellet around the moors with a knotted club, has never evolved such a code of spectator ethics. True, audiences are usually polite in the dignified atmosphere of the national championships, but at other competitions—particularly team tournaments—they display a brand of sportsmanship that would make a rabid Brooklyn Dodger fan look fairly courtly. Nor is this attitude confined to spectators. Contestants who are not on the strip at the time can cause considerable hullabaloo—and often cause most of it. Some of our most polished fencers, who would never dream of disputing a jury’s decision, suddenly turn into wild Indians as they root their teammates or clubmates to victory.
In the October Riposte, Dernell Every modernized a 19th century writer’s ideas in an article entitled “Ethics on the Fencing Strip,” which showed that the tricks of the trade in bouting had not changed much throughout the years. While we have no early point of reference here, it seems likely that as far as spectator ethics are concerned, conditions are getting worse rather than better.
It’s hard to catalogue these vices, because inventive spectators and contestants seem capable of popping up with new and irritating ones at every competition, but here are a few of the sure-fire tricks that turn up without exception at every team meet, and often at individual matches as well:
A constant din of cheering, applause and shouts throughout a bout. There is nothing that throws a director and his judges off their stride as much as this raucous vice. The director’s commands are often unheard and the jury’s actions unattended. Put it down to team spirit if you like, but a sport like fencing that demands such close concentration in its execution and judging would be better served if most of the applause could be withheld until the point is decided and the bout completed.
Coaching from the sideline. Sometimes this takes the form of shouting directions, sometimes stepping up to the competitor and whispering in his ear. The good old adjective “unsportsmanlike” can certainly be used here. It infuriates a man’s opponent and seldom helps the one who is being coached, since it may disorganize a well-planned attack.
Applauding before a decision is made. Often during a phrase, both contestants will be hit. The supporters of one, seeing him score a hit, will burst into applause before the director has consulted the jury and before any decision has been announced. Too much pressure is put on a jury by this action. And the applauders may be made to look pretty silly by the decision.
Discussions of the judging within earshot of the jury. Too many times a spectator or inactive contestant will yell to the man on the strip, “Put it in where they can see it next time!” or “You can win even without those guys!” referring to the jury. While the director has the power to throw the offenders out for remarks like this, it’s a measure that is seldom resorted to, and should not have to be. It’s about the most unpleasant trick that a spectator can use to.
Wandering across the strip or in front of the judges. This is seldom a deliberate offense, but it’s one which draws more than a normal share of curses. Fencers aiming toward another strip often get almost in the path of the action. Spectators looking for better seats manage to post themselves directly in front of judges. Many a fine point has been ruined by an abstention when the judge found himself behind a wall of non-combatants.
These are just a few of the exasperating little tricks—occasionally intentional but most often just heedless—which detract from the interest at a competition and sometimes throw a monkey-wrench into the judging.
It’s easy to say, “Don’t be stuffy about this. Do you want to take all the fun out of fencing? Let the boys yell. If there isn’t any enthusiasm, there isn’t any fun.”
That’s all true. It would be a pretty bad situation if the boys never yelled. Just let them yell at the right time, not when it’s going to throw a competitor off his game or a judge off his stride. If a competition were ever fenced off in a doleful silence, the sport would be nearing its end. But fencing competitively is a job that demands intense concentration. If the tennis and golf gallery can wait until the kill’s made or the putt sunk, the fencing enthusiasts ought to be able to restrain themselves somewhat until the point is over.
