There’s a phenomenon I’ve observed time and again in our fencing community – one that rarely gets discussed openly but affects many young fencers. I call it “the early rating trap.”
Picture this: A 13-year-old fencer – let’s call her Stella – bursts onto the scene with natural talent and fierce determination. Her parents beam with pride as she collects medals at local competitions. Her coach nods approvingly as she executes actions with precision beyond her years. Then comes that magical moment – she earns her B rating, perhaps even earlier than expected.
Everyone celebrates. Photos are taken. Instagram posts are made. “The next Olympic champion,” relatives comment. Her parents start researching national circuits more seriously. Her friends begin talking about higher-level competitions. Why not a world team, even, or at least national travel team? Stella herself feels that warm glow of accomplishment, of validation, of being “one of the good ones.”
And then, something shifts.
In her next competition, Stella loses in the first DE round to an unrated younger by two years fencer she’s beaten easily before, like 5:0 easily. At the following national tournament, she doesn’t make it out of pools. Suddenly, those fluid actions become hesitant. That aggressive attack becomes tentative. That confident stance gives way to tense shoulders and furrowed brows.
“What happened?” her parents panic, sending emails and calling meetings. “Did she forget how to fence overnight?”
No, she didn’t forget. But something perhaps more insidious occurred – her relationship with fencing fundamentally changed the moment that rating became attached to her name.
The Weight of Expectation
When Stella fenced without a rating, every victory was a pleasant surprise, every advancement a bonus. She fenced freely, taking risks, trying new actions. She dared. There was nothing to lose because, well, she wasn’t “supposed” to win anyway.
But that B rating? That changed everything. Now she was “supposed” to beat all the C, D, E, and U fencers, and give a hard fight to these few A-rated girls in the competition. Now she was “supposed” to make the top 8. Now she was “supposed” to fence like a B-rated fencer – whatever that means to a 13-year-old who’s still figuring out who she is as an athlete.
With each bout, the question morphed from “Can I win this?” to “What if I don’t win this?” From “Let’s see what happens” to “I better not mess this up.” From “This is fun” to “This is terrifying.”
I’ve seen the shift happen mid-bout. That moment when a young fencer realizes they’re down several touches to someone with a “lower” rating, and their face transforms from competitive focus to something approaching panic. “This can’t be happening,” their expression screams. “I’m better than this. Everyone expects me to be better than this.” And then, with a few touches behind and a whole third period ahead of them, their shoulders sag in disappointment, their bodies become heavy and motionless, their muscles stiffen, and they give in in despair, showing with their whole appearance – I’m finished!
And just like that, their fencing falls apart completely.
The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
The cruel irony is that this fear of embarrassment – this terror of losing to someone they’re “supposed to beat” – is precisely what makes them fence worse. They tighten up. They rush. They abandon their game plan. They forget everything they’ve practiced and fall back on desperate, low-percentage actions that only compound their troubles.
And when they inevitably lose, it confirms their worst fears: “Maybe I didn’t deserve that rating. Maybe it was all luck. Maybe everyone will realize I’m a fraud. And everyone sees I suck at this!”
So the next competition becomes even more pressure-filled. The next opponent even more terrifying. The next loss even more devastating. It’s a spiral that can derail not just a tournament or a season, but sometimes an entire fencing career.
I saw this happen with Stella. After earning her B, she spent an entire season suffering through competitions, fighting not just her opponents but her own expectations. After each disappointing result, she’d sit silently in the car on the ride home, her parents unsure whether to comfort her or analyze what went wrong (both approaches equally likely to end in tears).
The Pressure from Within and Without
What makes this situation so complicated is that the pressure rarely comes from just one source. Yes, some parents do explicitly voice disappointment when their B-rated child loses to an E-rated opponent. Some coaches do make the mistake of saying things like, “You should never lose to someone like that.”
But more often, the most crushing pressure comes from within. These young fencers internalize what they think a certain rating means. They create elaborate hierarchies in their minds about who should beat whom. They imagine judgment from peers, parents, and coaches that may not even exist.
I remember Stella telling me, “Everyone was watching when I lost. They all saw that I’m not really a B fencer.” When I asked her who specifically she thought was watching and judging, she couldn’t name anyone. The “everyone” existed only in her mind – but that didn’t make the pressure any less real.
Breaking the Cycle
So how do we help fencers like Stella escape this trap? How do we prevent early success from becoming a psychological burden?
First, we need to fundamentally change how we talk about ratings in the fencing community. Ratings are not static markers of ability – they’re snapshots of performance on a specific day under specific circumstances. They’re not guarantees of future success or predictors of specific outcomes.
Second, we need to explicitly give young fencers permission to lose. Not just in words (“Of course it’s okay to lose sometimes”) but in our reactions to their losses. When a young B-rated fencer loses to an unrated opponent and we respond with shock or excessive analysis, we’re unintentionally reinforcing the idea that this outcome was unacceptable.
Third, we need to create a culture of consequence-free fencing. And that definitely starts with families. It’s hard, I know, but it’s necessary. EVERY competition MUST be such because otherwise it’s stressful. There is no middle ground. Parents can’t say results in some competitions don’t matter but in others they do to a child. Their fencers’ brains don’t work like that. For them their fencing is either validated by parents in every competition, or not, regardless of the level, fencers should not feel judged in any level of event.
For parents it’s hard to understand but they need to try. Practice this attitude in low key competitions, such as regional or local, when the results don’t affect any qualification. Practice until you really succeed to let go of your judgement and expectations. And then try to replicate this feeling and everything that led to it in more important competitions.
The Paradox of Growth
Here’s the uncomfortable truth about fencing development: real growth requires failure. It demands moments of vulnerability. It necessitates losing bouts you “should” win while trying something new, taking risks, expanding your repertoire.
But the weight of an early rating often makes young fencers do the exact opposite. They fence conservatively. They stick to what’s worked before. They avoid risks at all costs. And in doing so, they inadvertently stunt their own development precisely when they should be blossoming.
The fencers who truly excel in the long run aren’t the ones who never lose to lower-rated opponents. They’re the ones who understand that the path to greatness isn’t a straight line upward. It’s a messy, complicated journey with plenty of setbacks, surprising losses, and moments of doubt. They’re the ones who learn to see ratings not as measures of their worth but simply as letters on a page.
For parents watching your young fencers navigate this journey – recognize that an early rating can be both a blessing and a curse. Celebrate their achievements, yes, but also help them understand that the rating doesn’t define them. That losing doesn’t diminish them. That the goal isn’t to protect their rating but to become the best fencer they can be – which sometimes means taking risks that might result in losses.
For coaches – be mindful of how you frame expectations. Help your athletes see each competition not as a test of their worth but as an opportunity to implement what they’re learning.
And for young fencers feeling the weight of that early success – remember that the rating is just a letter. It doesn’t fence for you. It doesn’t guarantee anything. The fencer you become isn’t determined by how quickly you earned a certain rating, but by how you respond to both success and failure along the way.
The strip doesn’t know what rating you have. When the referee calls “Fence!” all that matters is what happens in that moment. Everything else – including the expectations, the pressure, the fear of embarrassment – exists only in our minds. And what exists in our minds, we have the power to change.
The image is licensed under Creative Commons 3 license.
Attribution: Alpha Stock Images – http://alphastockimages.com/
Original Author: Nick Youngson – http://www.nyphotographic.com/
Original Image: https://www.picpedia.org/chalkboard/f/failure.html
Not only young fencers. As an adult I earned a D then a B over three weeks but then not DE-qualifying my next. Subsequently I lost and regained that B twice over 15 years.