Can age and experience triumph over youth and raw strength in combat sports? Drawing on wisdom from Renaissance fencing masters and modern martial arts, this article explores how the Mike Tyson-Jake Paul fight mirrors centuries-old debates on the limits of athleticism and honour.
By Ken Mondschein
The trope of experience and/or skill overcoming physical superiority has been popping up quite a bit as GenX ages. Indeed, “old man makes one last comeback” has risen to the level of its own sub-genre, seen in Stallone’s recent oeuvre, Hugh Jackman’s Logan, and Schwarzenegger’s FUBAR. Of course, the “badass grandpa” is entertainment-world fantasy, the real-life test of this trope being the Mike Tyson-Jake Paul fight. Numerous fellow GenX-ers popped up on my Facebook feed predicting that Tyson—who, whatever his personal qualities, was an extraordinary boxer in his prime—would make a hash of Paul, who is better known as a social-media star than a fighter. Instead, we got treated to the sad spectacle of a 58-year-old—albeit a 58-year-old in extraordinary shape—being run around the ring by a man less than half his age.
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We know from numerous studies that athletic performance declines with age—particularly those factors most related to combat sports. Notable are a decline in power, leading to a decline of explosiveness, and VO2 maximum, leading to a decline in endurance. These were on full display in the Paul–Tyson fight. Other factors are less obvious—declines in flexibility, cardiac output, recovery time, etc.—but not insignificant. Even legendary athletes in non-combat sports have had to adapt: Tom Brady became more contact-avoidant; LeBron James, who has stated he will retire within a couple of years, has become more of a team leader than a power player. These are, of course, not weekend warriors, but phenomenally gifted multimillionaire athletes whose full-time jobs are to maintain their bodies at their physical best.
Ancient people might not have had modern sports science, but they were familiar with athletic training and were able to observe age-related declines. The famous quote attributed to Socrates and recorded by Xenophon in his Memorabilia reads: “It is a disgrace to grow old through sheer carelessness before seeing what manner of man you may become by developing your bodily strength and beauty to their highest limit.” The implication is that the time for developing strength is in one’s youth. Cicero, in his De Senectute, praises intellectual, rather than physical, gymnastics and points out that it is the aged person’s duty to preserve health through moderate exercise. The second–third century CE physician Galen of Pergamon, for his part, was of the opinion that strenuous training is unhealthy because it unbalances the humors; certainly, it was not suited for older people, who must preserve their health.
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The idea of combat sports as inappropriate for older people persisted into the Middle Ages. Even though William Marshal fought in the Battle of Lincoln at the age of 70, he was more the exception than the rule. Overall, there was a sense that physical striving is the domain of the young; after all, the verses of Joannes Liechtenauer, the ur-text of German medieval swordsmanship, begin: “Young knight, learn…”
Perhaps no writer expresses this idea as in-depth as the fifteenth-century knight Pietro Monte (1457–1509). Monte served in the court of Renaissance Urbino and is mentioned by Castiglione in his Book of the Courtier as “the true and only master of every form of trained strength and agility.” Monte left us three works: his 1492 De Dignoscendis Hominibus (On the Diagnosis of Men), which applies Galenic humoral theory to combat tactics; and the Exercitiorum Atque Artis Militaris Collectanea and De Singulari Certamine Sive Dissentione, printed posthumously in 1509. The section that interests us is found in On the Diagnosis of Men. Monte says:
When we begin to decline with advancing age or through some other infirmity, we should cease from exercises where we wish to overcome others. When our might is lacking, anyone can easily encounter us and win, and given that our intention is to gain honor… we should utterly avoid these exercises….. and if we work poorly, everyone will say ‘this old man is crazy and delirious at heart.’ ….Even if he can show a degree of agility by force of art or practice, it still appears unnatural and alien to his condition. (Forgeng translation)
Later, Monte says that men increase in both “magnitude and firmness of powers for their first thirty years,” or, maximally (if they had been prevented from training due to other circumstances), up to the age of 40. He does not preclude older men from military service—he himself died in battle at the age of 52—but combat sports, where one strives in front of an audience to win honor, are out of the question.
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So, is there any hope for the aged? Donn Draeger, the great historian of the Japanese martial arts, observed that the greater the ma-ai (distance) of the art, the older a top-level practitioner could be, with weapons arts having older skilled practitioners: “Statistics show that top-level Judo champions expire prior to age 30; sumo champions find the end of the road between 30 and 35; kendo greats rein up until ages between 35–40, while naginata-do permits champions beyond the age of 40.”
For Draeger, though, even the longest-range weapons topped out in early middle age. It is for this reason that every organized sport has “veteran” or “master” divisions in which athletes can compete on more level ground against their own age cohort.
Can age and experience triumph over youth and raw strength in combat sports? Drawing on wisdom from Renaissance fencing masters and modern martial arts, this article explores how the Mike Tyson-Jake Paul fight mirrors centuries-old debates on the limits of athleticism and honour.
By Ken Mondschein
The trope of experience and/or skill overcoming physical superiority has been popping up quite a bit as GenX ages. Indeed, “old man makes one last comeback” has risen to the level of its own sub-genre, seen in Stallone’s recent oeuvre, Hugh Jackman’s Logan, and Schwarzenegger’s FUBAR. Of course, the “badass grandpa” is entertainment-world fantasy, the real-life test of this trope being the Mike Tyson-Jake Paul fight. Numerous fellow GenX-ers popped up on my Facebook feed predicting that Tyson—who, whatever his personal qualities, was an extraordinary boxer in his prime—would make a hash of Paul, who is better known as a social-media star than a fighter. Instead, we got treated to the sad spectacle of a 58-year-old—albeit a 58-year-old in extraordinary shape—being run around the ring by a man less than half his age.
We know from numerous studies that athletic performance declines with age—particularly those factors most related to combat sports. Notable are a decline in power, leading to a decline of explosiveness, and VO2 maximum, leading to a decline in endurance. These were on full display in the Paul–Tyson fight. Other factors are less obvious—declines in flexibility, cardiac output, recovery time, etc.—but not insignificant. Even legendary athletes in non-combat sports have had to adapt: Tom Brady became more contact-avoidant; LeBron James, who has stated he will retire within a couple of years, has become more of a team leader than a power player. These are, of course, not weekend warriors, but phenomenally gifted multimillionaire athletes whose full-time jobs are to maintain their bodies at their physical best.
Ancient people might not have had modern sports science, but they were familiar with athletic training and were able to observe age-related declines. The famous quote attributed to Socrates and recorded by Xenophon in his Memorabilia reads: “It is a disgrace to grow old through sheer carelessness before seeing what manner of man you may become by developing your bodily strength and beauty to their highest limit.” The implication is that the time for developing strength is in one’s youth. Cicero, in his De Senectute, praises intellectual, rather than physical, gymnastics and points out that it is the aged person’s duty to preserve health through moderate exercise. The second–third century CE physician Galen of Pergamon, for his part, was of the opinion that strenuous training is unhealthy because it unbalances the humors; certainly, it was not suited for older people, who must preserve their health.
The idea of combat sports as inappropriate for older people persisted into the Middle Ages. Even though William Marshal fought in the Battle of Lincoln at the age of 70, he was more the exception than the rule. Overall, there was a sense that physical striving is the domain of the young; after all, the verses of Joannes Liechtenauer, the ur-text of German medieval swordsmanship, begin: “Young knight, learn…”
When we begin to decline with advancing age or through some other infirmity, we should cease from exercises where we wish to overcome others. When our might is lacking, anyone can easily encounter us and win, and given that our intention is to gain honor… we should utterly avoid these exercises….. and if we work poorly, everyone will say ‘this old man is crazy and delirious at heart.’ ….Even if he can show a degree of agility by force of art or practice, it still appears unnatural and alien to his condition. (Forgeng translation)
Later, Monte says that men increase in both “magnitude and firmness of powers for their first thirty years,” or, maximally (if they had been prevented from training due to other circumstances), up to the age of 40. He does not preclude older men from military service—he himself died in battle at the age of 52—but combat sports, where one strives in front of an audience to win honor, are out of the question.
So, is there any hope for the aged? Donn Draeger, the great historian of the Japanese martial arts, observed that the greater the ma-ai (distance) of the art, the older a top-level practitioner could be, with weapons arts having older skilled practitioners: “Statistics show that top-level Judo champions expire prior to age 30; sumo champions find the end of the road between 30 and 35; kendo greats rein up until ages between 35–40, while naginata-do permits champions beyond the age of 40.”
For Draeger, though, even the longest-range weapons topped out in early middle age. It is for this reason that every organized sport has “veteran” or “master” divisions in which athletes can compete on more level ground against their own age cohort.
Ken Mondschein is a scholar, writer, college professor, fencing master, and occasional jouster. Ken’s latest book is On Time: A History of Western Timekeeping. Click here to visit his website.
Click here to read more from Ken Mondschein
Top Image: Ms.Thott.290.2º 078v and © Glenn Francis, www.PacificProDigital.com
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