Go train with different people…

The idea of seeking out diverse training partners, as articulated by figures like Bernardo Faria, has a long and somewhat contested history within grappling, particularly concerning the foundational development of what became Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. While modern BJJ often emphasizes cross-training and the benefits of varied inputs, the early evolution of the art was, by necessity and design, often quite insular, leading to both profound innovation and, arguably, some eventual stagnation.

Mitsuyo Maeda's arrival in Brazil in 1914, part of a global judo demonstration tour sponsored by Kodokan, marked a pivotal moment. His instruction of Gastão Gracie, and subsequently his sons Carlos and Hélio, was initially a contained transfer of knowledge. The Gracie Academy, established in the 1920s and 30s, cultivated a very specific approach to judo, emphasizing ground fighting (ne-waza) to a degree not seen in mainstream Kodokan judo at the time. This internal focus allowed for deep exploration and refinement of techniques, driven by challenges against practitioners of other martial arts and the need to adapt for self-defense scenarios. The Gracies, for a considerable period, focused heavily on their own interpretation and application, often promoting it as a distinct system rather than a variant of judo.

However, this insularity also bred internal schisms and stylistic divergences. Carlson Gracie Sr., for instance, departed from the main Gracie Academy in the late 1960s or early 1970s, establishing his own academy, which developed a more "tough" or aggressive style, often emphasizing physical conditioning and an almost "all-or-nothing" approach to submission attempts. This separation, while born of internal disagreements, effectively created a new "different training environment" for his students, leading to further innovation. Similarly, the Machado brothers, nephews of Carlos Gracie, moved to the United States in the 1980s, encountering different wrestling and martial arts influences, which subtly shaped their approach to BJJ.

So, while the early BJJ pioneers certainly engaged in challenge matches against non-BJJ practitioners, the concept of "training with different people" in the sense of regular, reciprocal cross-gym training was not a common practice until much later. The notion that one *should* regularly seek out diverse training environments seems to have gained significant traction with the global expansion of BJJ in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, as practitioners encountered a wider array of wrestling, judo, and other grappling styles. This shift arguably moved BJJ from a somewhat closed-source, family-driven art to a more open-source, globally collaborative martial sport.

One might ask, then, given the undeniable innovations that emerged from the comparatively insular early Gracie environment, whether the push for constant diversification always yields superior results, or if there is a point where focused, deep immersion within a specific school's philosophy might still offer unique advantages.

The instruction to "go train with different people," while a common and often beneficial piece of advice in contemporary grappling, carries a nuanced historical resonance, particularly when one considers the early development of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. As "Mat Historian" correctly observes, the emphasis on cross-training was not always a prevailing philosophy, and in some eras, it was actively discouraged or even viewed with suspicion.

Consider the pedagogical approach established by Carlos Gracie and his brothers in the early to mid-20th century. The Gracie Academy, for example, operated as a relatively closed system, particularly during the decades when its distinct style was being codified and propagated. The emphasis was on internal refinement and the strict adherence to the techniques as taught by the Gracie family. This was not a system designed for its practitioners to routinely visit other academies and integrate varied techniques; rather, it aimed to cultivate a highly specific and effective method, often presented as superior to other forms of *luta*. The famous "Gracie Challenge" advertisements, which invited practitioners of any martial art to test their skills against a Gracie family member, inherently reinforced this internal focus by positioning the Gracie system as the ultimate arbiter of combat effectiveness, rather than a system improved by external inputs.

Even as late as the 1970s and 1980s, the idea of a student regularly training at multiple academies or with instructors from different lineages within Brazil was not as commonplace as it is today. Loyalty to a specific academy and master was paramount. Transfers between academies, particularly between rival teams, were often fraught with tension, and the concept of "creontes" (traitors) emerged, illustrating the deep-seated expectation of singular allegiance. This cultural framework made the systematic pursuit of diverse training partners, as articulated by someone like Bernardo Faria today, a practical and philosophical challenge in previous eras. The benefits of varied inputs were perhaps understood by some individuals, but the institutional and cultural structures often prioritized depth within a specific lineage over broad exposure.

This raises an interesting question: how much of the early BJJ system's distinctiveness was forged *because* of this insular development, and how might it have evolved differently had a more open approach to cross-training been prevalent from the outset?

"Train with different people" is solid advice for anyone. My judo club, back in my dojo rat days before 2004, had about 20 regulars, but we’d have guests from other places every other week, especially leading up to local tournaments. That constant influx of new body types and styles was key. It’s hard to develop good *kuzushi* if you’re only ever breaking the balance of someone you’ve drilled with for years.

In BJJ, it's the same. My school here in Portland is good, but rolling with someone like Mat Historian's example of a smaller, quicker BJJ player from a no-gi gym is a different puzzle. It exposes gaps you don't see against your usual training partners. The mat-time gap for us judo crossovers is real; my shodan wasn't a magic key for BJJ.

"Train with different people" is easy to say, but harder to do if you’re at a place like Gracie Barra. We have a very structured curriculum, which is great for learning basics systematically. Week 3 in Fundamentals is usually closed guard attacks, for example. But it means the focus is on mastering our system, not so much on external experience. We get visitors sometimes, but it's not like Kenji's judo club before 2004, with constant new faces. There's a definite vibe of "our house, our rules" with the affiliate-only etiquette and specific uniforms. It can feel like a bit of a bubble if you're not intentionally looking outside of it. It’s a trade-off: great structure for learning, but less natural cross-pollination.

The idea of just "going to train with different people" sounds good on paper, but for a lot of us, it’s not that simple. Kenji mentioned his dojo rat days before 2004, but that’s a different world from being a brown belt with two kids and a mortgage. I manage three classes a week at my home gym, and that's already a tight squeeze between work and family.

Dropping $50 on a day pass at another academy, plus the gas and the two hours it takes out of my Saturday morning, just isn't happening often. Maybe once or twice a year if I’m visiting family out of town, I’ll find a drop-in. My focus is on consistent training at my local spot, making the most of the rolls with the guys I see every Tuesday night.

Bernardo's advice on training with different people is great in theory, but as Dave points out, the reality for most practitioners and certainly for gym owners is far more complex. We’ve all been in that position early in our journey where we could just bounce around. Try pulling that off today. For gym owners, we rely on consistent membership for a reason. If half my students at Coach Marcus BJJ are dropping into other academies regularly, that impacts my retention.

The open mat culture used to be a lot more fluid before the growth of larger affiliations. I remember back in '05, you could visit most local places with a simple drop-in fee and a handshake. Now, many academies have specific policies, insurance considerations, and loyalty programs that make it difficult. It's not always about being restrictive, but about managing a sustainable business.