Anthony

brown belt

I had a couple of soft starts. I wrestled in high school, so I always had an appreciation for grappling and being on the mats. In my 20s, I joined an MMA gym. There was some jiu-jitsu, but it was really just kids beating the crap out of each other. There wasn’t a lot of runway there, so I stopped after about a year. What really got me committed to jiu-jitsu was my early 30s. I started when I was 32, and I’ll have trained for 8 years this coming March.

I’m from Brooklyn, New York. I moved to Houston, Texas, and for the first time in my life I had a little money in my pocket—but no friends. I had a wide-open schedule. Jiu-jitsu was something I always wanted to do as a kid, but my parents couldn’t really afford it. So I finally said, “I’ve got the money, I’ve got the time,” and I walked into a Gracie Barra. That day—that was it. I was hooked. Committed. Six days a week, sometimes two classes a day.

If you train jiu-jitsu, you have friends in every city on the planet. I say that as someone who’s moved around a lot in the last 10 years—my wife and I, and now we’ve got two boys living in Manhattan.

Q: How old are they?

In two weeks, they’ll be two and three. Little guys.

Q: You’re going to have them in the gym?

Oh yeah. Here’s a funny story I think you’d appreciate: my oldest is obsessed with the second Craig Jones Invitational. He has me watch it with him. He loves it.

It was weird because his third birthday fell on the same weekend as CJI 2. He crept out of bed—he usually doesn’t do that—and I was watching it late at night by myself. He said, “Daddy, can I watch with you?” I said sure, it was his birthday. Then he became obsessed. To the point where he could rattle off every main competitor, the guys and girls. My wife took a video because she’s big on social media. After that, my wife now has a relationship with Gabby Garcia, they’re now friends.

He called out Gabby. Giancarlo Bodoni is one of his favorites. He loves Lucas Barbosa. He loves Victor Hugo. My son rattled off all these names on video, and they all reposted it.

So yeah, they’ll be on the mats as soon as I can get them on. Right now he’s doing karate, a kids’ program. But that’s the goal.

Q: So you were in Texas. What brought you back to New York?

Work. I work in Pharmaceutical sales. I accepted a promotion and moved to Houston to manage a sales team for the first time. I didn’t know anybody, joined a gym, and within a week I had friends. Buddies. We’d go out, have dinner, drink, watch UFC fights. It’s a built-in community. That’s what I tell people. My wife asks, “Where are we going to end up?” I don’t care. I’d be happy anywhere—Texas, New York, Florida, Nashville—as long as I have a good gym and decent food. Everything else I can deal with. It’s all about the jiu-jitsu community.

What brought me back was that the company that promoted me opened a management position in New York, the same team I used to be a rep on. I moved to Texas in 2018, and then in 2020, the New York spot opened up, so I came back. It was crazy—I even got a promotion and started making less money because Texas is so much better tax-wise.

The cool thing is, at my original gym, one of the professors said, “When you go back to New York, go train with Luca.” I didn’t know who Luca was at the time.

Q: Who was that professor?

Professor Ed Bortoletto. They called him Paulista because he’s from São Paulo. He said, “Go train with Luca. He’s a wonderful guy. He’s Renzo’s best friend.”

I was like, “Dude, I’m moving to South Brooklyn. I’ll be so far away.”

When I came back, I joined a great gym in Park Slope, where I earned my purple belt. Then I went to Gregor’s. I’ve been to a lot of gyms. My path’s a little different. I trained at Gregor’s, then moved to Manhattan a couple of years later, and then had the opportunity to join the West Side. That’s when I met Luca. I said, “You came highly recommended. I’m proud to train with you.”

You hear the stories—Luca training with Grandmaster Helio, certain moves Renzo would do on the mats back in the day. I love the history as much as the instruction. It’s wild how small the community is. In Texas, the gym was a Draculino lineage. And Sapo is a Draculino black belt too. The community is so interconnected. It’s amazing what Draculino built.

This is one of those niche sports where it’s not that hard to meet the legends. You can do seminars, train with them, even do privates with people you worship. That’s a beautiful thing about jiu-jitsu. I remember looking for a gym in Lafayette, Louisiana. I knew Tim Credeur had a gym there. I call the gym—he picks up. I ask, “What’s your drop-in rate?” Then I realize—it’s him. I’m like, “Get the hell out of here.”

Same thing in Miami—Mario Sperry picks up the phone. To anyone else, it’s nothing. To me, I’m starstruck. These are pioneers.

Q: You’ve trained at a lot of gyms. Did you train here because you moved into the neighborhood, or did you move because of the gym?

I can’t say if it’s chicken or egg. But anytime we’re looking at apartments, the first thing I check is proximity to a jiu-jitsu gym.

I can’t say we moved here for the gym, but I was okay moving here because the gym was close. At eight years in, with two kids, proximity is everything. I need to get there easily so I can train at the rate I want.

Q: Which is how often?

Before kids—six times a week, then five. Now at 40 with two kids, the sweet spot is four, but I’m happy with three. I’ve added lifting back in. Three to four keeps me sharp.

When I started jiu-jitsu, I was 205 pounds—looked like a guy who lifted, but also drank beer. Puffy face, belly. I thought that’s just who I was. I picked up jiu-jitsu and never touched weights for seven years because I wanted the knowledge, the rounds, the mat time. Now at 40, I’m back lifting to protect my body. I’m about 175–180 now. I was down to 165 at one point, then put some weight back on. I’ve got the knowledge now, but maintaining the body is harder. It has to be a focus so I can stay healthy. If I look at an old photo, I can tell in three seconds if it’s before or after jiu-jitsu.

Early on, I preached jiu-jitsu to everyone. I felt sorry for people who didn’t do it. Now I’m more reserved—I let interest come to me. But it really is for everybody. I tried Muay Thai, MMA, but knowing I can train jiu-jitsu for the next 30 years? That’s everything. This place is so special.

Q: Why?

Culture. Everyone told me it was going to be an older crowd, big guys, great lunch, and morning classes. And they were right.

Most gyms struggle at lunchtime or early morning. Not here. There’s always someone training. So many classes. You can’t blame anyone but yourself if you don’t train. For someone my age, having skilled, respectful training partners at noon is huge. Also this is a gi gym. I love the gi. I train no-gi when I can, but the gi slows people down. As you get older, that matters.

I’m not trying to be a superhero. I want to protect myself. I love the game.

Q: I train some no-gi because I don’t want to train in no-gi.

Same here. That’s what makes me do it. The thing I tell people—maybe even more so with no-gi—is that as much as I do this every day, I never wake up and say, “Oh, I can’t wait to go to jiu-jitsu today.” You fear it. You’re like, ah, shit. I’m going to have to work really hard. It’s going to be uncomfortable. There’s probably going to be pain. There are going to be wars. But you always walk out feeling amazing. And no-gi is that times ten.

Saturday, for example, I had a window where both my kids were sleeping. I look at the schedule and I’m like, “I guess I’m doing no-gi.” By the time I walked out at the end of the class, I was like, I love no-gi. It’s so much fun.

Q: I don’t know if I ever want to go to class, but I’m always happy that I went. Always. Without exception. I tell people: if you ran a 20-minute mile, you wouldn’t be happy. If you played tennis and lost 6–0, you wouldn’t be happy. I can come here, get my ass kicked, and feel great afterward. It’s a very weird thing.

It’s cleansing. You become lighter. I’ve got two kids—everything feels lighter. Lunch feels lighter. I’ve got this endorphin rush. Nothing else feels that bad after you train.

And when I get pulled away for work for four or five days, the first thing my mind thinks is: When can I get back to jiu-jitsu? I’m going to miss five days—what is that? When’s the next day I can train?

Another thing I do: I say my prayers in the evening, I kiss my wife goodnight, and I think about what we learned in jiu-jitsu that day. I want it to synthesize in my brain. Because how often do you learn a cool technique and forget it before you even get out of the shower? So I ask: What did I learn today? What did those rounds feel like? What mistakes did I make? I treat this like a second job that I’m not getting paid for. I put in a certain number of hours every week, and I try to train at a certain level—because I do want to teach jiu-jitsu one day. I want to get out of the corporate world eventually. I’d love this to be the vehicle—not just to make money, but to give back, to build a community. That’s the plan.

Q: Do you feel like jiu-jitsu made you a better father?

I do. I sometimes think I exaggerate it, but I really believe it. Before jiu-jitsu and after jiu-jitsu—two different people.

The funny thing is—your body hurts. Sometimes it’s hard to pick up my kids. I’ve just done rounds with Ruben and Howard and I’m like, “Can you pick them up? I can’t.” My body hurts that badly. But mentally, you’re in a better place.

I problem-solve using a jiu-jitsu mentality. One time, I was trying to close a dryer with my hands full—clothes, water bottle—and I thought, How would I do this in jiu-jitsu? I did the opposite of what I was trying to do. Instead of pushing it closed, I opened it slightly—and it swung shut. That’s jiu-jitsu.

Q: What about work? You’ve been in that industry a while.

Twelve years. It’s great because it gives me flexibility. But honestly, I’ll be in a conference room and everyone’s super into work and I’m just thinking about jiu-jitsu. None of this really matters. I’m thinking about a collar choke that didn’t work.

Jiu-jitsu gives you pride. You carry yourself differently. We’re so in tune with our bodies. People live sedentary lives, maybe go to the gym and think they’re doing something, or count their steps, but we feel our bodies. That gives you peace. Clarity. Confidence. I work in sales—you’ve got to look confident, sound confident, be systematic, be willing to do hard things. Everything is easier after you just did rounds with Ruben and Howard. Everything.

But it’s taxing. I’ve had to taper caffeine and prioritize sleep. This taxes you physically. I still go out with friends sometimes. But there have been fewer than five times I skipped training when I was scheduled. You’ve got to pay the piper.

You want to party? Fine. You still show up the next day. As long as I can do that, I can enjoy myself—but I’m way more aware now. There are nights I say no because I want to be sharp. Saturday’s ten rounds. I want to feel good.

Jiu-jitsu is the great equalizer. You want to be your best self—physically, mentally. And it teaches something wrestling didn’t: upward mobility. In wrestling, talent felt fixed. This guy’s better than me and always will be. In jiu-jitsu, if you commit, you will get better than people you were once at the same level with. And I love that you can make any round valuable—big guys, small guys, new people. I’ll only use my left side, or play spider guard. You can level the playing field.

What other sport can you do year-round as a grown man? Pickup basketball is hard. Softball is hard. This—this is it. Look at everyone around us stretching, getting ready. We’re all here for a reason. I love it.