When I told Coach Barni that Nigeria had selected me to compete at the 2026 Senior Men’s Sabre World Championships, he didn’t react the way most people did. He didn’t congratulate me or tell me how amazing it was. He just looked at me with his usual calm expression and asked one question: “So… what’s your objective?”
That’s Coach Barni for you. I’m a member at Zeta Fencing, and Barnabas “Barni” Csanyi is my coach there, Zeta’s Head Coach and a certified Maître de Sabre. Before he ever showed up in my life, he’d already spent years building fencers into medalists. He began fencing in his native Hungary in 1992 with legendary coach Istvan Decsi, then went on to coach in Hungary, Singapore, and Germany before landing at Zeta. Wherever he’s coached, he’s produced fencers who medal at every level, all the way up to European, Asian, and World Championships. So when he asks a quiet, simple question like that, you learn pretty fast to actually think about the answer instead of just saying something that sounds good.
I already knew mine. I knew what I was walking into. These weren’t Cadet events anymore, and they weren’t even Junior events. I was fencing in Senior Men’s Sabre, even though I’m still a Cadet by age, going up against the best saber fencers on the planet: Olympians, World Championship medalists, national champions, guys who had spent decades mastering a sport I’d only recently fallen in love with.
“I want to score a touch against every opponent,” I told him. He nodded, and that was it. A few moments later, he invited me to Shanghai.
Shanghai: Time to Level Up
Coach Barni was running a training camp with Eli Dershwitz, and if you don’t know who that is, you’re about to. Eli is now Zeta Fencing’s Owner and President, a role he took on in August 2025, but before that he was Zeta’s most famous graduate. He grew up close by in Massachusetts, started fencing at the club back in 2004, and went on to win multiple US National Championships and individual NCAA titles at Harvard. In 2015 he became the first American men’s saber fencer ever to win an individual world title, and in 2023 he won gold at the Senior World Championships in Milan, making him one of only two American men ever to win an individual senior world title. He’s also competed at three straight Olympic Games. So yeah, training alongside him in a concentrated and highly specialized camp setting, for a week straight, wasn’t exactly a normal Tuesday.
Coach Barni’s thinking for the camp was simple. If I was already in Asia before the World Championships, I’d avoid the worst of the jet lag. It made perfect sense. A few weeks later, Mom and I were on a plane to China.
Even though we flew together, I handled the journey myself. No coach was traveling with me, and I wanted to figure things out on my own. There’s something satisfying about that kind of freedom, navigating airports, trains, ordering food, getting lost and finding your way again. Every little challenge felt like a side quest in a game, and finishing one unlocked a little more confidence for the next.
Shanghai was incredible. It was cleaner than anywhere I’d ever been, unbelievably green, and full of life. The food was amazing, and every street seemed to have something interesting around the corner. Even though I didn’t have much time to explore, I loved every minute I spent there.
The camp, though, was brutal, and honestly, that was exactly what I needed. Coach Barni gave me an individual lesson every day, and each one built on the last, until by the final two days he’d turned the difficulty up several levels. There were moments when I felt completely outclassed, but that’s how you improve. You don’t level up by beating easy bosses, borrowing from my gaming analogy.
Training With the Giants
The best part of the camp was getting to train with some of the best saber fencers in the United States day in day out for the entire week. There were three of them that had traveled to Shanghai with Coach Barni and Eli.
They are: Khalil Thompson, a Tokyo Olympian and multiple-time member of the U.S. National Team, was this giant of a human being who couldn’t have been kinder. He took me under his wing and seemed determined to cram years of experience into my brain in just a few days.
Silas Choi, one of America’s top young sabreurs and a Princeton fencer, somehow spotted another quiet person almost immediately. He made me feel welcome from the start, and those conversations between bouts made it much easier to settle in.
Then there was Mitchell Saron. Watching him prepare to fence was almost as interesting as watching him actually fence. Before every session he’d spend a few quiet moments meditating before switching into competition mode, and as someone who loves acting, I couldn’t help noticing how completely he changed once it was time to perform.
Could I score a touch on any of them? Not even close. They’re giants of our sport. But what I’ll remember isn’t how much better they were. It’s how generous they were. Every question I asked was answered, and every piece of advice was shared freely. Nobody acted like they were too important to help a sixteen-year-old kid trying to figure things out.
That attitude started with Roger Wu, who ran the camp. Roger fences saber for UC San Diego, where he was named First Team All-MPSF and Second Team All-Region as a sophomore this past season, so he knows exactly what it takes to compete at a high level himself. The first time we met, he threw his arm around my shoulder like we’d known each other for years, and any nerves I had about arriving in a new country disappeared instantly. Roger is an incredibly talented fencer, but even more importantly, he’s just an awesome human being. We paid for the last week of the training camp, but as we arrived in time to join an additional day of camp, he invited me to stay for that extra day on the house. Then, he fed us so much with really yummy food and treats that we all left Shanghai with an extra pound or two! That pretty much sums up the whole experience. And, everyone wanted everyone else to get better.
Okay… I Can Do This
After eight unforgettable days in Shanghai, Mom and I flew to Hong Kong for the World Championships. Once I arrived, Coach Ibrahim Alogba, head coach of the Nigerian Federation, took over. It was a tough trip for him to make, but he made it anyway. He said he wanted to watch my debut at the senior worlds himself.
He has been one of my strongest supporters, and his opinion matters a great deal to me. He reminded me to believe in myself, to remember that I had earned my place on the strip. He told me I was developing into a very fine fencer, and that I had already won simply by being there. He was pleased with the work Zeta and Coach Barni had done with me. Then he told me to go fence freely.
This tournament already felt different before I even picked up my saber. For the first time, I handled my own accreditation. It probably sounds like a tiny thing, but it felt like a milestone. I found the right desk, sorted everything out, got my credentials, and walked away thinking, Okay… I can do this. I also followed the warm-up routine Coach Barni had drilled into me all week.
Then the butterflies showed up, like they always do. They make it impossible for me to fence freely. In previous international tournaments, they’ve basically stolen my first three bouts before I’d even settled down enough to fence properly. This time I looked at myself and thought, Not today. The nerves were still there, but they just weren’t in charge anymore. I conceded my first bout to the butterflies, but that was it. Only one. By the second bout, I was locked in, and compared to my previous tournaments, that felt like real progress.
Then Things Got Weird
My second opponent was the one I’d identified beforehand as my best chance for a win. He was thirty-five years old and had been fencing for more than sixteen years. I’m sixteen, so he had literally been fencing longer than I’d been alive. Judging by how much he kept adjusting his mask and fidgeting before we started, I think he knew it wasn’t going to be easy either.
The score reached 2-2. I saw an opening, committed, and landed what I thought was a clean hit right on his mask. He went down and stayed down, and he started howling. The medic was called. Then the referee pulled out a red card, not yellow, red. Apparently, I’d hit him with my bell guard, though I wasn’t sure. Coach Ibrahim protested immediately because he believed, as I did, that it had been a clean touch. I remember standing there feeling awful. I honestly thought maybe my guard had clipped him as I finished the action, and if I’d hurt him, I felt terrible. In any case, the possibility of a bell guard hit is a technical error I must train to avoid. A few minutes later he stood up and carried on like nothing had happened. Relief! He’s okay and I was really happy about that.
Later in the bout, I landed another clean touch. This time he clutched his torso as though I’d hit him there instead, and it honestly felt like he was hoping for another red card. The referee didn’t even blink and called for us to fence on. That should have settled me down. It didn’t. By then I was rattled, not by butterflies this time, but by another emotion that I will learn to conquer in the future. Every attack came with this tiny voice in my head asking, what if I get another red card? Instead of fencing freely, I started fencing safely, and that’s not how saber works. In saber, you blink and you are history.
Looking back, I know I should have trusted myself more. But that’s one of those lessons you only learn by living through it. Every tournament gives you XP, sometimes from winning, sometimes from getting knocked down and figuring out why.
Six Touches. I’ll Take It.
When the competition was over, I had finished 161st out of 166 fencers. If you only look at that number, it doesn’t seem very impressive. I see something completely different. I was the youngest fencer in the entire Senior Men’s Sabre event, I had most likely also been fencing the shortest (less than two years), and I spent the day fencing national champions, Olympians, and athletes who had been competing internationally for longer than I’d been alive. And I wasn’t last.
Before I left home, I told Coach Barni my goal was to score a touch against every opponent I fenced. I didn’t quite get there, but I finished the tournament with six clean touches against some of the best saber fencers in the world. When I set that goal, I secretly hoped that if I scored 5, that would be an incredible achievement, but thought one or two to be more realistic. I came home with six.
Coach Barni was happy with how much I’d grown. Coach Ibrahim was happy too. Mom, Dad, and my twin sister were absolutely ecstatic, and seeing how proud they were meant more to me than any number on a results sheet.
Turns Out, It Wasn’t About the Touches
The trip wasn’t just about fencing. Every evening in Shanghai after training, and every night in Hong Kong including after my competition, I still had my schoolwork waiting for me. There were definitely nights when all I wanted to do was collapse into bed, but I opened my laptop anyway. I’m a student-athlete after all, and the student part comes first.
Once my schoolwork was done, I usually switched gears completely. I’ve been writing my first solo novel, so I’d spend some time editing a chapter before calling it a night. Then there was the game my friend and I have been designing. We’re finally building it for real, and if everything goes according to plan, we’ll launch it by the end of the summer. Looking back, I realize those evenings probably helped me as much as the training did. After spending all day thinking about fencing, it was nice to step into different worlds for a while, school, writing, and game design. By the time I closed my laptop, my body and mind were exhausted but calmer, and I was ready to do it all again the next day.
Right now, I’m ranked 151 in the world in Cadet Men’s Saber, 467 in Junior Men’s Saber and 504th in the world in Senior Men’s Sabre. I now believe, and I also know my rankings are moving in the right direction.
When I think back on this trip, though, the thing that stands out most isn’t Shanghai or Hong Kong. It’s the people who made it possible. My parents and my sister, first of all.
Coach Ibrahim gave me an incredible platform, but none of this would have happened without Coach Barni and Zeta Fencing. Coach Barni didn’t just teach me how to fence better; he believed I was worth investing in. He invited me to Shanghai, gave me a lesson every single day, challenged me when I needed it, and quietly prepared me to stand on the strip against the best saber fencers in the world, believing all along that I belonged there.
Everyone at the Shanghai camp welcomed me as one of their own. Roger Wu made me feel at home from the moment I arrived. Khalil Thompson, Silas Choi, Mitchell Saron, and the other camp attendees, many of whom were champions in their own right, could easily have kept their knowledge to themselves. Instead, they shared it freely with a kid who just wanted to get better. That’s something I’ll never forget.
Six months ago, I was hoping I could score one or two touches against the best fencers in the world. Today, I know the goal was never really about touches. It was about proving to myself that I belonged on that strip. I do. I’m still only sixteen, and this isn’t the end of the story. It’s just the tutorial level.
Phoenix Olen is a rising junior at the Loomis Chaffee School in Windsor, Connecticut. He is a published author, aspiring game designer, actor, and member of the Nigerian national fencing team. With his twin sister, Zieozi Olen, he co-authored Twins’ Walkie-Talkie Chronicles and So You’ve Got a Crush… Now What?, and is at work on his first solo book.
