My coaching philosophy is stern, but necessary, and I do it out of love.

Fencing in the classical French style is strictly formal, and therefore difficult to learn. Though the basic guards, attacks, and defensive moves are few in number and structurally quite simple, it is in the subtleties of their proper execution that the challenge lies.

One could say that it takes nine hours to learn how to fence, and a life-time to learn how not to. In order for the forms to be effective, they must be precisely observed, and come automatically to the fencer. It takes patience and long hours of practice, but once the fundamentals are firmly rooted, the way is clear for students to develop their skills as far as they dare dream.

On the other hand, if students are allowed to compromise the great artistry of fencing, for small victories in the sport, they will find themselves swept down a treacherous path towards a dead end from which few return. Frustration and stagnation is the destiny of anyone who develops bad habits which become more difficult to break out of the longer one persists in them.

I have been criticized for being a stubborn perfectionist, who is difficult to deal with. I have more than once received the impression that my teaching methods are resented by some. Perhaps they think my coaching techniques are archaic and time consuming. If I am not troubled with such opinions, it is because I have a far greater concern. I have seen many promising young fencers seduced into trading their ultimate potential for quick short term gains. It is a tragedy that fencing world wide has degenerated into a convoluted game of electronic tag, which bares little resemblance to the swordsmanship of our forbearers.

I do not do what I do because I love fencing; I do what I do because I love fencers. My students are my joy. If fencing is to survive intact into the future, and enrich the lives of generations yet unborn, it is the young fencers of today who must carry its traditions forward.

Maître Bac