Come on break my arm

It's six in the morning and the association opens at eight. The four kids are all around me, sleepy, slow, eyes full of sleep, mentally cursing me. I think I must offer them something and it must be quick, before they turn on me. Zangrandi has one eye open and the other shut.

"Does it really have to be at this time, Miss Grisam?"

"It could be any time, but Mr. Costa wouldn't like it to interfere with your practice."

I had them lie down on the mat. Every time one tried to sleep and started snoring he would be tapped on the shoulder. I went on to talk to them. Far from Mr. Costa's influence, get to know what they thought about the practice. Figueira was the first to talk. He said it was good, a very good practice. "You need to watch a tournament to see the results. If I tell you, it's not the same." He laughed in a weak tone. Morales stared fixedly at me. He said it was more or less what Figueira said. Zangrandi didn't add very much to what had already been said and Galhardo didn't say a word; I took another shortcut. "What does he expect from you?"

Zangrandi laughed.

"He expects us to win, of course."

"Is it all?"

An "is it all" can overthrown governments, overwhelm empires, but not mine. Though it can open some vaults, I hope. Galhardo resolves to join the talk.

"He's been saying we need more union; we've never brought in a prize as a team. No wonder we haven't, Figueira and Zangrandi can't seem to help much... It's never overwhelming but they never bring prizes nor win."

I didn't need to look at the two to see the beams of rage, hitting Galhardo, who moved his body sideways, apparently intimidated by their look.

"You're the know-all, aren't you, Galhardo? You think you're the best?"

"Let the jerk speak. He thinks he's Rickson Gracie."

Close your eyes. Imagine this dialog when all are lying on a mat. It's something bizarre, but nothing I haven't gotten used to. I saw Figueira closing his fist, ready to turn on Galhardo. Slowly I started moving toward him, unsure if I was going to have time. His body started moving up slowly and I threw my hand just in time to hold back the movement. Galhardo opened his eyes, frightened, feeling the sudden dislocation of air. Figueira jumped on me, in a fit of rage. We rolled on the mat, I had my good arm locked tight. Could even foresee the moment my arm would be torn off my body. I was in such a ridiculous position, on fours, with the kid locking my arm. The pain was just unbearable. The others didn't move, curious about was going to happen next. "Take good care, mind your own business. I hate it when people interfere. Just hate it.", Figueira said, eyes beaming rage all over.

"Are you gonna break my arm, Figueira?" I panted, bound by the lock. I have hardly begun to work with them and here's their first show of force.

"Say uncle." Figueira really meant it.

"Figueira, let her go, it's me you want; we can solve the problem right here, if you want", said Galhardo, coming closer to the spaghetti dish we turned out to be. Figueira took no notice, busy with me.

"Say uncle."

"Break my arm, Figueira. You know you can."

He didn't seem to believe it.

"Are you nuts? I can really break it, don't you believe me?"

"Break it. Come on, break it."

I was staring into his eyes. Fixed them more and more. I saw his eyes turn away for a moment, return to the position, turn away again. Galhardo didn't need to interfere; Figueira let me go.

Apparently astonished with my decision of letting him break my arm. Galhardo, Zangrandi, Morales and Figueira now looked at me a different way. Wide awake, the suddenness of the action interrupted the works. I had hardly stood up, my arm ground by the tour of force when Figueira and Galhardo started wrestling on the mat; Figueira, red with rage, Galhardo trying to cope with the situation and the others trying to separate them. I couldn't. My arm didn't obey the brain commands. I don't even know if it still belongs to me.

"Figueira, let go. I don't wanna hurt you, pal."

"I'll smash you, son of a gun. So you think you're the king of the jungle, don't you?"

The two like snakes, entwined. Galhardo buried his right arm under Figueira's, locking the moviments. His left arm came under one of his legs, which Galhardo pulled until his knee was almost crushing Figueira's nose.

"Won't you stop! Stop while you still have the choice. Please, Figueira. Don't wanna hurt you, please..."

It seemed weird to me that Galhardo was begging for something when he controlled the situation. At least I thought he was in control. Figueira looked at him, tense, with the pain of being turned into a packet. Transfigured by the pain, if it's possible. Six thirty and this whole lot of psychodrama to solve.

When the most bizarre happened.

Extremely slowly, he was getting out of the lock Galhardo tried to keep tight. Not even Galhardo figured out how he did it. Hands firmly together, restricting his movements, Galhardo didn't believe it when Figueira started sliding free from the lock as though he was made of butter. He did it so slowly he came unseen by everyone of us, Galhardo included. He started catching the opponent by the back, Galhardo still had time enough to react and return to the lock postion. But Figueira wasn't giving in; he managed to get hold of Galhardo again.

"Enough, my man! It's enough. Enough.", shouted Zangrandi, frankly shocked at this reaction, trying to pull them apart. Galhardo clearly signalled he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Somebody take him away! Take him away! Do something!"

I put my left foot on Figueira's belly and pulled Galhardo the strongest I could. The other two helped me. What impressed me most was the way Figueira's eyes glittered. I had seen that before. Knew what it was, it was no good thing, for sure. Galhardo came out of the trap, as the other two were supposed to hold the beast. And holding him was no fun at all. Figueira panted, breathless, insane, eyes aiming at his goal: human flesh. Galhardo's, preferentially. "Congratulations, Galhardo. You know well how to bring out the beast in others"; Zangrandi seemed to have some feeling of revenge fullfilled when he said this. Figueira started to sob. And cry.

"Let me go, motherfuckers!", he slid free from them and went down the reception hall. He sat down there, humiliated, hurt. Seven o'clock. I still have an hour for today's meeting. I held Galhardo by the arm, though I knew he could do me the same or worse damage than Figueira.

"Apologize."

Figueira lifted his head in disbelief we had, after all we had done, invaded his improvised sanctuary.

"Fuck, I can't believe you are..."

"Apologize to Figueira, Galhardo."

"Leave me alone!"

Galhardo stuttered a lot, but ended up apologizing. Naturally he didn't mean it or want to. He thought he was right putting things on Figueira's face as he did. The result showed clearly to be a kickback. I found he hadn't expected it to be like this; otherwise he'd never bother to apologize. They destroy the whole session together, leading me to conclude it's a long way. It's difficult to unite such unprepared minds. Figueira stayed back there, while I talked to the others on the mat.

"Tomorrow he'll have already forgotten it", said Morales, looking at Zangrandi and me, "he'll forget it."

"It would be easier for him to forget it if you didn't remind him all the time. Because I think it's not the first time, is it?"

Galhardo and Morales went dumb. Dumbfounded. When they talked was to obviously ask me how I knew about it. Zangrandi didn't say a word, but looked me, curious about it too.

"Well, it was a typical reaction of someone that has been continuously charged. Don't find it difficult to analyze it and come to this conclusion."

They stood still, looking at me. All of a sudden, from the hall, the sound of a thunderclap: Figueira, slamming the outside door on his way home.

Galhardo, Morales, Zangrandi and Figueira | Eleven

Radio Universal: The Making Of A Thousand Gods.