Tom Wortman

Tom Wortman is a forensics expert (a real life CSI scientist) who is an Art of Jiu-Jitsu (AOJ) black belt under Gui Mendes and Tainan Dalphra.

Tom Wortman Just Outworked Everyone

"Have you ever felt like you hated being the smaller, older, or weaker grappler without any magnificent physical attributes to build an excellent jiu-jitsu game around?  Yeah, that's me.  I feel like that almost daily.

At that point, you know that you will never be able to rely on brawn to get you through your jiu-jitsu journey.  So you better rely on your brains.   Tom had a big brain, a bigger heart, and a work ethic that was next to impossible to keep up with."

In my second year of jiu-jitsu, I was already a Male/Masters 4/Blue/Lightweight competitor. That pretty much sums up where I was in life: an older guy with little experience and a smaller grappler scale.

It was 2018, and IBJJF was starting to kick up the volume of tournaments on their competition calendar.

Living in Atlanta and the Southeast United States has some jiu-jitsu advantages. It is easy to get direct flights to almost anywhere and is relatively central to many major cities in the Southeast United States.

I had a lot of energy and enthusiasm back then.  It wasn’t uncommon for me to wake up super early on a Friday, get in my Ford F150, and drive all day to a city like Washington, DC, or Miami.  I would stay in a hotel on Friday night.  I’d wake up on a Saturday morning and check my weight.  If I needed to drop a little, I would hit the treadmill in the hotel, and I knew when it was time to head to the arena.  I sit in a gymnasium or convention center all day, checking my weight, watching others compete, waiting for my turn, hopefully making the podium, signing up for the open class division, and then pretty much shutting the place down because Masters 4-7 colored belts went at the very end for the open class.

I’d get some dinner, head back to the hotel, sleep, and wake up early Sunday morning to drive home. Some drives would be 10+ hours if I drove to Miami or Washington, DC. Some other drives were shorter; Charlotte was 4 hours, Nashville was about 5 hours,  Charleston was about 5 hours, and  Cincinnati was about 7 ½. We were also lucky because Atlanta often got a Winter, Spring, and Summer IBJJF (usually in September).

When you are on the circuit, you start to see some familiar faces—other men and women on the circuit.  You may not know who they are, but you begin to recognize faces repeated often.  Maybe you started watching their matches.

I kept seeing this small group of competitors from Buckhead Jiu-Jitsu.  Sam Joseph owned Buckhead, and Sam was good friends with Paul Creighton, where I started my jiu-jitsu.  There was Matt Shand, Ruth Hwu, Marc Gebeily, and this guy Tom Wortman.  These were all practitioners my size or smaller, so I also related to their journeys.

This small group of competitors often won their matches, which impressed me. Although they were a small and unknown school, when they showed up, they could go toe-to-toe with anyone in their respective divisions. I found that interesting.

Eventually, I introduced myself and asked, “What are you guys doing that you win so much? How are you training? How much do you train?”

Two guys, Matt Shand and Tom Wortman, said they drilled together as much as possible.  Before class, after class, and outside of class.  I didn’t know much about intentional drilling.  I was sort of clueless about the concept.  They invited me to come down and train one day.  Most people who know me know that when I get asked to train somewhere in jiu-jitsu, I often take them up and show up to learn.

So I showed up.  I watched Tom and Matt team up and train together.  They didn’t roll like crazy people.  They were working together to allow each other to work on techniques.  Not too much resistance, not too little.  I found that fascinating. 

These guys were both masters athletes but took their jiu-jitsu crazy seriously.  I found that attractive, appealing, and relatable.  Tom didn’t appear to have any super-athletic gifts or attributes.  He was a smaller framed guy.  He lacked unusual flexibility or mobility.  He didn’t show any signs of athletic prowess.  He just looked like an ordinary guy.

I was often winning on the circuit, but not at the same level and consistency as Tom and Matt. They were even making the podium at majors like Pans, American Nationals, and Master Worlds.

I describe that small group of competitors out of Buckhead as small little smarty pants.  Marc Gebeilly was in technology.  Ruth was a pediatric physician.  Matt Shand graduated from the Rochester Institute of Technology as a technical writer.  Tom Wortman grew up in Alaska, was valedictorian of his class, and was a forensics expert by trade (a real CSI scientist on contract from various law enforcement agencies, including the military and municipalities.)  This crew was very intelligent.  Almost nerdy.  I loved that.  They didn’t look like tattooed tough guys.  They looked like math and science guys.  They were more apt to like Star Wars movies.  But put them against tough guys in competition, and they found a way to win with technique.  Amazing.

I started training a lot more down at Buckhead Jiu-Jitsu.  Most of the training room were 175 pounds or smaller practitioners.  I found that incredibly appealing.  The school was not far from the Georgia Institute of Technology (GA Tech University), so by proximity, they attracted a lot of smarty-pants from the university to the school.  All kinds of scientists, neurologists, doctors, lawyers, engineers, and business people were in the room.  I loved that group that was training there at the time.  I felt like they were more like me, and I could relate to them.

As the years ticked by, I kept up with Matt Shand and Tom Wortman.  They both separately moved to California right before COVID.  Tom moved to southern California specifically to pursue jiu-jitsu at the Art of Jiu-Jitsu under the Mendes Brothers in Costa Mesa, California.  Matt would take a job transfer as a technical writer to join Facebook in northern California in the Silicon Valley area.  

Tom only got better and better once he moved to California under the Mendes Brothers. His technique became very sharp and precise, and his competition game became very dialed in. 

By the end of his brown belt, Tom would win Europeans, Pans, American Nationals, and Master Worlds in the same year.  Four majors in a row without losing a match.  I was so impressed because I knew how hard that was to achieve.  For an amateur with a career, it was nearly impossible.  That accomplishment was so far beyond my abilities and aptitude in the art. 

Tom went “all-in” on jiu-jitsu as a Masters athlete.  He was a silent achiever.  Tom always lived under the radar.  He rarely spoke.  He never posted much on social media.  He never told people what he was going to do.  He never brought any attention to himself.  He was like a jiu-jitsu ghost.  He’d show up and win and be gone.

But I knew behind the scenes, from watching him, being around him, training with him, and being on the road with him, that the guy was a fanatic about discipline and dedication. His work ethic was unrivaled in the amateur ranks. 

He went all the way on getting himself the best instructors behind him, the best training partners, and the heavy volume and workload that only the pros could pull off.  The diet, the conditioning, the strength training, the film study, watching instructionals, scouting his opponents.  Tom was relentless but quiet as a church mouse.

I loved every moment of watching Tom do his thing.  I always looked up to Tom.  In many ways, I wanted to be Tom.  I wanted to move to Costa Mesa.  I tried to put in hours a day into my passion for jiu-jitsu.  I wanted to get nerves of steel on competition day.  I wanted the crisp game plans and the ability to pull it off when it mattered.

When the competition was over, Tom had another secret talent. He would cut to Light-Feather for his IBJJF competitions, but once those were over, he would allow himself to go on 24-48 epic and extraordinary food binges. I have no idea how someone (anyone), regardless of size, could eat so much food.

We’d wrap up a competition, and Tom would say, “Let’s grab a burger,” and we would.  We’d finish eating a burger, and Tom would say, “How about some pizza?”  And I’d tag along.  We’d go out to breakfast the next day, and Tom would order all this crazy food like eggs, bacon, pancakes, coffee, and fruit.  It would be just plates of food before him, and he’d inhale it.  In between the meals would be cookies and cake.  I don't know how his head never exploded (or his stomach).

I forgot what competition it was, but it was in California.  We woke up the next day, and Tom was like, “I have to take you to this doughnut shop.  It has amazing donuts.”  We arrive, and these donuts are the size of my head. Tom orders a couple of them, and they box them up for him.  We get in the car, and Tom starts eating his donuts, and I think that was our breakfast.  But that was just what got Tom warmed up for breakfast because as we were driving in the car, Tom started giving me directions to the pancake house.  I’m thinking, “What in God’s name is up with this guy's eating capabilities.”  His post-competition appetite is legendary (and as you can see in the pictures of Tom and me, he’s not a large guy.  He competed at light featherweight.)

I couldn’t achieve Tom’s success, but I also didn’t put in the level of work that Tom did.  It was also a realistic reminder that sometimes we think we are going all in on something and trying our hardest.  But it’s not until you compare yourself against a Tom Wortman that you realize you’re only partially in on your goals.  There are other people out there who are willing to, capable of, and do outwork you across the board.

Tom earned his blackbelt at AOJ under Gui Mendes and Tainan Dalpra, which was epic to witness and dreamy for any serious jiu-jitsu practitioner. It was just another accomplishment for someone willing to go all-in on his jiu-jitsu journey, even as a master's athlete.

And I respect the heck out of those people.  I respect the heck out of Tom.

To this day, almost nobody knows his story. He’s still a jiu-jitsu ghost.

But I know…and that’s good enough for me.