Every gym has one. He trains hard. He taps people. He corrects technique during flow rolls. He watches every ADCC match the day it drops on FloGrappling, texts the group chat with real-time commentary, and has strong opinions about judging. He knows who won Absolute 2023. He can tell you why the brackets are fucked up this year. He's genuinely knowledgeable. He's also been saying 'I'm definitely going next year' for three consecutive years, and this September, with ADCC 2026 quietly scheduled, he's arrived at the same conclusion he reached in 2024 and 2025: "Just can't really justify it this year either."
Look, he's not wrong. ADCC isn't a weekend tournament you throw on a credit card and figure out later. This is $600-1,200 in registration depending on division. This is airfare to whatever continent ADCC is on this time—2024 was Las Vegas, 2023 was Abu Dhabi. This is hotel. This is time off work. This is the girlfriend asking why he needs a week off to watch people tie each other up when he could tie her up in the apartment and save the airfare. (She says this to herself while he's at training.)
So financially, yeah: not justifiable. Registration alone is what a decent gi costs. Airfare is another three gis. Hotel is another four gis. He's a purple belt. He owns three gis already. Does he need to spend the price of seven gis to watch people who are better than him perform?
That's the rationalization. And it's bulletproof because it's partly true.
But here's what actually happens every cycle.
The First Year (When It Was Still Possible)
First ADCC cycle, he's a blue belt. ADCC happens, he watches from home. Some guy from his gym places. Suddenly it's real—not just the Mount Olympus of grappling, but something someone from his specific mats achieved. He's on the group chat: "Bro, I'm going next year. I'm booking the flight now." He doesn't book the flight. He bookmarks ADCC's page. He talks about it for two weeks, then doesn't.
The Second Year (When Planning Became Possible)
Second ADCC cycle, he's a purple belt now. He's legitimate. He's been training for four years. He has a take on the rulesets. He's following the announcements—where is it being held? Abu Dhabi. Cool. Cool cool cool. "Next year is in the States," someone says. "That's when I'll go." He believes this because it's verifiable. ADCC does rotate. The next one WILL be stateside eventually. So he commits to a future year that doesn't exist yet. This is not a commitment. This is deferment with an exit strategy.
He watches ADCC from home. The production is crisp. The athletes are insane. The judging is still fucked. He watches a heavy drop into side control get scored as a takedown. He yells at the screen. He texts the group chat: "Did you SEE that? That's not a takedown." The conversation spirals into belt-level debate (purple belts are at the exact skill level where they have opinions but not enough experience to know whether their opinions are correct). He feels like he was there. He wasn't. But he felt it.
The Third Year (Now)
Third ADCC cycle. He's trained for six years now. He's not blue anymore. He's competitive at purple. He's thought about competing—not at ADCC yet, maybe locals first, but he's thought about it. ADCC happened while he was at work. He watched the replays. Absolute was a blood bath. Someone he knew online got knocked out by a lightning-quick shoulder lock. He messaged the guy. The guy replied. This is closer than ever.
And now, three weeks after ADCC 2026 concludes, he's in the group chat: "Man, I really wanted to be there. Just can't justify it this year though. The registration alone is insane. Plus work's been crazy. Maybe 2027. 2027 is definitely happening."
2027 is twelve months away. Twelve months is eternal in gym time. Twelve months is when he might be brown belt, might be competing, might have a different job with different constraints, might have saved money specifically for ADCC. Twelve months is a reasonable promise because it's too far away to be tested.
Here's What's Actually Happening
This isn't a financial problem. If he got a court summons to Abu Dhabi, he'd go. If his ex was competing at ADCC for the belt, he'd make it happen. If there was a $10K bet on the line, the credit card would get swiped.
The real calculation is priority hierarchy. And watching ADCC on FloGrappling, alone, in his apartment, with a second screen open for the group chat to feel social participation—that's actually sufficient. It's not the same as being there. But it's basically the same for his engagement with the sport. He gets the information. He gets the community. He gets to have an opinion.
What he doesn't get is the lived experience of being in a crowd of people who are also obsessed. He doesn't get the moment when a move that looked impossible on screen reveals itself as biomechanically clear from the correct angle. He doesn't get the conversation with a random person at the bar who knows some fighter's coach and has the real story. He doesn't get to say "I was there" in five years when ADCC is a legend.
But he gets to say "I was going to be there." And that's closer than the truth, and it requires no airplane ticket.
The Pattern Here
This guy loves jiu-jitsu. This guy also loves the identity of being someone who is "about to" do harder things. The promise is better than the execution because the promise has no failure condition. He can be going to ADCC forever. The moment he actually shows up—or admits he's not showing up—the fantasy collapses.
It's not unique to ADCC. It's the same energy as the guy who's been saying he's going to compete in a local tournament for two years but registers the night before and then pulls out. Same energy as the guy who's been "training to go full time" for four years and still works the same job. Same energy as "I'm thinking about opening my own gym."
The gym culture runs on potential. On the version of yourself you're about to become. On the competitions you're definitely doing next year. On the technique you're almost ready for. Because the moment you commit to a deadline—an actual one—you're one of two things: the person who showed up or the person who didn't. There's no third state. There's no "meant to."
The Honest Version
Maybe he won't go to ADCC in 2027 either. Maybe 2028. Maybe he'll watch every match and have strong opinions and contribute to the conversation and never actually attend. And you know what? That's a valid way to participate in a sport. You don't have to attend the summit to be part of the culture. You don't have to spend a plane ticket's worth of rent to prove you're serious.
But say that. Own that. "I'm not going to ADCC. I don't need to. I'm happy watching from home," is an actual sentence. It means something. It's true.
"Can't really justify it this year" is the same thing said in a way that leaves the door open for the fantasy to continue.
And the door stays open. And every year, he watches from home. And every year, he means it when he says next year is different. And every year, it isn't.
This post was generated by AI. Sources are linked below. Follow @bjj-problems on YouTube for the weekly video digest.
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adcc gym-culture commitment procrastination bjj grappling