Don't fence me in

In my early 30s, I took up fencing. I was never big on team sports. Fencers could care less about what is happening to the other fencers, except for their opponent. It is you against him/her.

In the 18th century it was how they settled disputes without all that tiresome arguing. I have always liked historical stuff; not so much arguing. It is all very civilized, just like real dueling.

I am in the dangerous habit of making fun of sports when they are taken too seriously. I have always been suspicious of the mob mentality that seems to surface regularly around team sports. Over the years I have gotten pretty good at getting tar and feathers out of my hair. Fair is fair. I will now discuss one of my interests.

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The first thing we see is that fencers just use one side of their body. This cannot be good for you. I have noticed that often when navigating doorways I tend to lurch to the right, not quite making a clean passage. Sometimes I catch myself walking sideways, kind of sidling to the right through life.

Fencers wear special, heavy-duty, white clothes that offer some protection from the constant poking, but not so much if a blade breaks. Heavy canvas does not do well against jagged steel. Fencers have a rule that everything stops if anyone yells halt or ouch really loud.

The traditional pants are knickers worn with long stockings. I did not have these, but managed to come up with a pair of white jeans to complete my outfit. The effect was a kind of really dangerous-looking Mr. Clean.

One advantage of the fencing costume is inherent in the mask, a darkened mesh affair that totally disguises and renders faceless the participants. All fencers are handsome in their masks; at least, that is what we think.

The mask teaches you to not turn your head when someone tries to poke you in the face, because if you turn you are no longer safe. The sides of the mask do not offer protection. This is not a good habit. This may be why so many ex-fencers have that romantic eye patch thing going on.

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Although many people fence into their old age, substituting finesse for athleticism, I was not one of them. I still wanted to duel, but how to do this without over taxing oneself?

The answer was, of course, that other 18th-century gentlemen’s arbiter of arguments, the dueling  pistol. This kind of club has an inherent weakness. They tend to lose about half of their membership at every meeting. This can only go on for so long. This is probably why you don’t hear much about these groups.

Bill Abrams resides (and romanticizes about dueling) in Pine Plains.