Not so long ago, a newly transitioned manager told me about her experience so far: constant self-doubt, regular doses of intense pressure, an incessant urge to quit. My initial response was to tell her that what she said pretty much summed up my Jiu-Jitsu journey up to that point. I also couldn’t help but share my newfound passion for the martial art and how the training has helped me navigate obstacles in other endeavors. Below, I share notes about my experience and how I find that mindsets inherent in the sport translate well to both work and life.

My love affair with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu started with the desire to do something scary and exciting. I badly needed to get in shape too, and the thought of going to the usual gym had lost its appeal. Plus, our office’s three-year romance with basketball had turned from three-hour games every Monday night into sporadic flirtations with dwindling participants. It seemed that Jiu-Jitsu was the perfect next adventure. 

 I got more than I wanted. In my first real sparring (as opposed to light or situational sparring) just into my second week of class, I thought I had executed an elaborate sweep of my opponent, only to have his knee spectacularly land on my rib cage. I ended up missing training for the next 19 days. On my first session coming back, a sparring partner forcibly tried to choke me, albeit incorrectly and painfully. My neck hurt for weeks. Each session left me enervated, and my body felt sore for several days. Jiu-Jitsu started to be an adventure like no other.

The new manager I spoke of earlier confessed that she cried every weekend but somehow managed to convince herself not to give up. I told her how I thought of quitting Jiu-Jitsu after every training without telling anyone, only to show up again in the following session. If half the battle is being present, then maybe sometimes the consistent effort gets rewarded with a win. In the case of the new manager, she got positive reviews after six months in her new role, cementing her position. On my part, I got my blue belt 13 months after I first stepped on the mat. Yet what we received weren’t the greatest rewards to come out of our efforts.

Jiu-Jitsu is problem-solving at its finest, and this is perhaps one of its greatest allures. Much like chess, opponents do a series of attacks, defenses, and counterattacks, always trying to outmaneuver or outsmart the other. Essentially, every move is intended to be a step towards a solution. (Conversely, every move poses a new problem for the opponent.) There’s no luxury of time to overthink, and the only choice is to move forward quickly, lest one gets stuck and submitted. The beauty of those split-second decisions is that they’re not merely a reaction to the opponent’s move but they’re also born out of individual strategy. At work, it pays to always look towards the solution first rather than assigning the blame or analyzing the problem a dozen different ways. There are countless times too, when taking action is better than getting stuck. No Jiu-Jitsu practitioner isn’t a problem solver and a strategist. The same can be said of anyone who deals with people at work.

One of the benefits of Jiu-Jitsu is that it forces an individual to adopt a growth mindset. There are plenty of techniques to learn, and new ones are coming up all the time. It’s simply impossible to know them all, much more to be good at them in an instant. Naturally talented and athletic individuals definitely have some advantages over regular folks, and so do the strong, agile, and flexible. But bigger and stronger doesn’t always carry the day. Proper application of technique coupled with impeccable timing —something that can be honed with consistent, deliberate practice— is paramount and beats plain bigger and stronger most of the time. My experience of getting smashed as the heavier opponent as well as occasionally submitting someone bigger and stronger has been incredibly revealing: the real enemy isn’t another person; true progress isn’t measured by comparing one’s self with another; mastery isn’t about knowing all the techniques but flawlessly executing a select few. The most memorable words uttered by the Jiu-Jitsu coaches don’t just pertain to the martial art or sport but also life in general. “I learn more from losing than winning,” said my female coach, who happens to be a three-time world champion. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” said my male professor, also a world champion. Such statements attest to the importance of adopting a long-range point of view and having the ability to see the big picture to be in a winning position. In business or life, isn’t it liberating not to let short-term goals or failures become distractions in favor of moving closer to the ultimate vision? What about the value of choosing to focus and being great at a small number of things rather than trying to be good at everything?

There is no denying that Jiu-Jitsu is challenging. Famous personalities of The Gentle Art have stated that it is easily one of the hardest things they’ve done in their lives. They have no hesitations, too, of following this up with the declaration that it is also one of the most fulfilling things they’ve ever done and continue to do. Rolling, the equivalent of sparring in other martial arts, as a simulation of real-life ground fighting is grueling. But it is also gratifying. The experience of going through intense pressure several times and just surviving the process is possibly one of the best therapies that exist. What more of the feeling when one ends up victorious in some rounds? And what better way than to struggle and be triumphant than being together with people who are passionate about the same thing? One of the ways I made it through white belt is thinking of training as something that prepared me not only for self-defense situations or competitions but also for the realities of business and life. After all, isn’t the most fulfilling kind of work or life not one that’s easy but one that’s full of challenges and surprises?

By the end of our conversation, the new manager and I came to a shared conclusion: things may or may not get easier over time, but we could certainly get used to them and probably even learn how to thrive despite them. M. Scott Peck in The Road Less Traveled said it best: “Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult —once we truly understand and accept it— then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”

Before the pandemic, a trip to the basketball court every now and then was part of our office-sponsored fitness activities. It used to be that we were pretty consistent about going every Monday night, something we had managed to keep up for three years straight. Most of the participants, myself included, had near-perfect attendance. A lot of us did this to stay in shape, de-stress and have a bit of fun while others were simply passionate about the game. Regardless of their reasons for playing, people oftentimes got competitive — everyone wanted to win at one point or another.

A boss once shared with me a story about his experience with an immigrant whom he had employed in one of his donut shops in New York. The boss learns that this particular immigrant used to be the captain of their cricket team back at home and decides to give him more responsibilities. After all, weren’t leadership skills supposed to be transportable? The boss ends up promoting the immigrant to a supervisory position, only to promote him again as branch manager several months later. The immigrant eventually becomes an area manager responsible for handling several stores.

In a recent performance review of a newly transitioned manager in the office, I’ve seen once again —it certainly wasn’t the first time— how people’s behavior and mindset on the basketball court can be similar to their performance and mentality at work. If I had to come up with more reasons to join office-sponsored sports activities apart from the obvious camaraderie and health benefits, getting a peek into people’s mind wasn’t a bad one. I share my notes below about some of my observations, mainly how I’ve unconsciously categorized players under three main buckets.

First, there are the stars. These are players that need to be in separate teams, lest the game becomes a lopsided affair and all the hopes of having some fun gets eliminated. They can be counted upon to do what is necessary to give their team the best chances of winning. They get the lion’s share of playing time and points because they put in the equivalent amount of work and consistently show good results. It almost feels like cheating when you pass them the ball because they seem to be able to score at will. At work, they bring the same passion and energy in what they do. They’re usually not together in a project unless it’s uber-complex because spreading them across several ones tremendously increases the chances of success on the individual projects they’re part of.

There are also the facilitators. While they could also score points if they wanted, especially when their team is behind or whenever the situation is critical, being the highest scorer or the individual superstar isn’t their priority. On the contrary, they look to pass the ball to open teammates first and even give weaker players the chance to score whenever possible. They don’t mind doing the necessary but less glamorous work either, like rebounding and defending — anything that could give their team the edge. As facilitators, these people are first and foremost leaders and their very presence helps improve the output of their teammates. Back in the office, they do pretty well in their managerial roles, whether the responsibility was thrust upon them or whether they asked for it themselves.

Then there are the role-players. These are the pesky defenders, the tenacious rebounders, or even that guy who favors the side of the court just behind the three-point line and has a relatively good chance of sinking the shot if he’s open. These people have no delusions of becoming the MVP but aim instead to contribute steadily and reliably, even if it takes time to master their chosen role. Part of their internal dialog goes something like, “I just don’t want to be the joker” — the very same words uttered by the boss I spoke about earlier when he decided to start playing basketball again after he turned 50. In the workplace, these people can be relied upon to perform their responsibilities well. They’re the subject matter experts who aren’t any less valuable than their colleagues. Many of them end up doing well in supervisory and managerial positions too.

Whatever roles or labels get assigned to them, and whether it be on the court or in the office, people want to win. They also welcome having fun and learning new things along the way. In basketball, the team with the higher score at the sound of the final buzzer wins the game. At work, the team who wins has leaders that can crisply define what constitutes a win and constantly rally their members towards it.