Because I have seen so many tennis matches where the better tennis player lost, due to the psychological advantage the opposing player either had before the match, or was able to gain during the match.
When I walked onto the tennis courts in a tournament, I used to feel a little like a lone Christian in the Colliseum facing the roaring lions. So I asked an outstanding tennis player how he felt when he began a tennis match. His reply, “I always expect to win. You need to have a positive attitude, think positively!” Great, I thought. The next time I went out I thought positively. This attitude quickly reversed, when my opponent whizzed ball after ball past me. Many things my opponent did or said shook my confidence — “Let’s get this over, the winner will have to play another round and I want to rest a little before I play the next round. I just finished the circuit.” Frankly, my circuit consists of the two tennis tournaments we have in our town, so I turned to psychology to improve my game.
It has been shown that psychology plays an important role in every aspect of life. Emotions play an important role in work, religion, play and our interpersonal relationships. The way we feel may affect our work and may also affect those with whom we work. If this is the case, then the way we feel may affect those with whom we play. The big question is, “How can we affect those with whom we play tennis so that we can “beat them?”
How can I prepare myself psychologically to win and _ stay “psyched up” to “psyche out” my opponent?
That is what this book is all about.
Stan Smith was once rejected in his try to become a tournament ball boy on the basis that he was too clumsy, but he devoted almost every waking hour to become today one of the finest, if not the most skilled, player in tennis.
Just about everyone likes to win. Tennis players are no exception. Some people claim they play tennis for fun only, and that they don’t care whether they win or lose. Those of you who feel that way need not read any further. This chapter is for those who like to win. We have a deepseated, unrelenting need to win.
I maintain that we also have fun playing tennis.
Mental attitude is crucial in tennis. Psychological factors are very important. Concentration is a must. You have to be thinking all the time. Any tennis book and any top-flight player will tell you this. Harry Hopman, the renowned Australian coach has frequently stated that success on the tennis court results twenty-five per cent from strokes and seventy-five per cent from mental factors. But what is the correct mental attitude? What are the psychological factors? How do you use them to your advantage? How do you improve your ability to concentrate? How can you be thinking all the time?
This chapter will deal with these questions in a manner that hopefully will explain the psychological factors involved in playing winning tennis. The intent is to show (a) how to improve one’s game, (b) how to use mental factors to one’s own advantage, and (c) how to use mental factors to the disadvantage of one’s opponent.
A great player having a bad day will always beat a poor player having a good day. Therefore, you should become a great player. How do you do that? Correct practice, proper coaching, analysis of mistakes, and physical conditioning are all essential, and all have their psychological aspects.
The sheer amount of practice is critical. Other things being equal, the man who has logged 1,000 hours on the court will beat the man with 100 hours behind him every time.
When you play a set against somebody, that’s good practice. When you rally from the baseline, that’s also good practice. When you hit the ball against the wall, that’s good practice too. But there’s even better practice. Which are the most important shots? The earliest ones: serve and return of serve. You have to hit one of these every single point (unless your opponent is accommodating enough to double fault). The other strokes may or may not come up. If you hit many serves in a row, say 75 or 100, you will eventually develop consistency, or “get in the groove’. Merely hitting a great number of serves, however, is not sufficient. On every practice serve one should be thinking specifically about what he is doing as to type of serve (flat, spin, slice, American twist), placement (forehand, backhand, right at the opponent), and whether it’s a first or second serve.
If youre thinking about exactly where and how you serve in practice, it will be much easier to also do this during a match.
One technique which has proved valuable for many is to tape a small piece of bright-colored cloth to the court, two feet inside the service line and two feet from the sideline. See how many times you can hit the spot.
Also, get someone to hit serves to you so that you can practice the return. Just as with the serve, each return should have a definite plan: deep down the line to the backhand, low crosscourt to the forehand. Again, if you think about it in practice, it will be easier to think about it in a match.
With respect to the ground strokes, one should find his weaknesses and systematically work on them. If you are unhappy with your high backhands, have your partner hit you nothing but high backhands for half an hour or more.
A good coach or teacher can be highly valuable. A knowledgeable non-participant observing and suggesting what to change and what not to change is generally preferable to making guesses by yourself. Basically, tennis coaches serve the purpose of attempting to improve the player’s stroke production. There are, however, several psychological factors involved with coaching.
Your coach may insist that you play the “Big Game”, but your make-up is such that this simply is not your style. Possibly, the coach gives more criticism and less praise than is right for your temperament. Just as in psychotherapy where not just any therapist is right for every patient, not every coach is right for every tennis player. One of the most important functions of a coach is to provide an atmosphere in which the player will enjoy tennis and want to improve his game. If tennis is starting to bore you, you should think seriously about switching coaches.
A tennis coach is in a position to develop the strategy of a player. Besides improving his strokes, the alert coach should help the student with things such as: where to hit it and when; how to change his game; how to play different players differently. In short, the coach should make it a point to concem himself with the psychological factors in tennis.
Unquestionably, a future champion must find out what he is doing wrong and change it. A coach can help. But not everyone can afford a coach and a coach can’t be there all the time. The lack of insight that some players have as to the mistakes they are making is amazing. Billie Jean King tells of a young man who spent all aftemoon without hitting one successful passing shot. Afterwards, when asked why he didn’t lob more or try hitting right at the opponent, he just shrugged his shoulders.
In other words he didn’t know, or apparently care, why he lost all those points! After every point you lose, you should verbalize, whether out loud or to yourself, exactly why you lost it. Not just the obvious, like “T hit it into the net.” If you netted it, was it because you took your eye off the ball, because you didn’t bend your knees to that low ball, because you loosened your grip, or what? If the reason you lost the point was that “he put it away”, how did he get in a position to put it away? Was that short lob you hit the only shot available? Would a stronger return of service have prevented him from taking the offensive?
Initially, it may not always be immediately clear what you did wrong, but you will get better at this analysis with practice. Very often players who tally their reasons for losing each point are astounded. to discover the great number of points that were lost in almost exactly the same way. One player with a reasonably strong first serve (which he always followed to net) found that well over half the service points he lost resulted from hitting a weak first volley or missing the first volley altogether. What to do? Work on first volleys? Work on service placement? Quit going to net on serve? Certainly this player must change something. Just what he changes is another issue. The important point here is that by analyzing the reason for every lost point, he was able to identify a significant area of weakness. Another way to find your mistakes is to make films of your strokes. The camera is brutally frank.
One’s success on the court is also dependent on his physical condition. Tennis is more enjoyable and winning is easier if one is in good shape. If you're tired, it’s more work to hit your best serve, it’s more effort to run to the net, it’s harder to do everything. According to Rod Laver, the benefits from physical conditioning extend beyond the physical. Laver insists that conditioning aids concentration and decreases nervousness. This makes good psychological sense. Being tired works on your mind.
It reduces the desire to chase the ball, to try your best. It’s demoralizing to be tired, especially if you think your opponent isn’t tired. It takes your mind off your game. If you play tournament tennis, there will frequently be matches in which you're tired to one degree or another. Make the best of the situation. Remind yourself of the following: you can rest as much as you want after the match; your opponent may be just as tired, if not more so, than you are; a tired winner is better than a tired loser! In this way, you can partially compensate for the mental effects of being tired. Better than that, however, is don’t get tired. Get in shape. Run at least a mile a day. That’s right — even if you're over fifty. Check with your physician. I’m positive he'll agree. In addition to running, which is perha S) the most universally beneficial exercise, there are a number of exercises specifically for tennis. The late 1972 and early 1973 issues of World Tennis have described a number of these. Anyone who really wants to win will work to improve his skill, and physical condition. This should include incorporation of the psychological factors discussed above. The next two sections are concerned with what can be done mentally with one’s given level of skill.
Every tennis player has heard a thousand times, “concentrate”. Without exception, he agrees, “that’s right, I ought to concentrate.” What, specifically, does one do to concentrate? While some players are innately better concentrators than others, there are some techniques that can help one’s concentration.
Saying to yourself, “watch the ball” is one way. Just before each point, say “watch the ball” and mean it. Watch it even when you don’t think it will help. When your adversary is about to serve, holding the ball before he has tossed it, that is the time to start watching the ball. Watch it continuously from that time until after you have hit it, including when it is on your racket.
As you are swinging, don’t watch where you expect to hit it.
Watch the ball. While your focus is on the ball, your peripheral vision can take in most of the court including, in particular, the moves of your opponent. According to Tom Brown, even at the most advanced levels of the game, one still needs to remind oneself continually, to watch the ball.
One should also concentrate on where he is going to try to hit the ball. Before every serve, plan to hit it to forehand, backhand, or right at him; and know whether or not you're going to follow it to net. There should also be an overail plan of how often you're going to hit the ball to each area of the court. You may decide to serve approximately seventy-five per cent to the backhand, and twenty-five per cent to the forehand. Rather than serve every fourth ball to the forehand, you should mix them up randomly. This means occasionally two and three in a row to the forehand, and maybe up to ten in a row to the backhand. The receiver should be kept guessing.
The best players simultaneously insist that: you have to be thinking all the time; and your reactions to given situations should become automatic. On the surface this may seem like an impossible paradox. Let’s see if it can be resolved. It has been stated above that one should note mentally the reason for every losing point. If one has several mental notes that he should have bent his knees on low shots, it will finally take effect. He will start bending his knees on low shots without thinking about it.
It is possible to concentrate on more than one thing at a time, if you will but identify what those things are. When you are on your way to the net, there will be times when your adversary hits a hard low drive that just clears the net and forces you to bend down and hit a defensive “volley up”. You feel you are doing well just to get the ball back. Thus you are satisfied with a shot which pops up into the middle of your opponent’s court.
Chances are very good that he passes you on the next shot and you chalk up the loss of the point to his excellent return of service. Let’s consider this situation a little further. If he had given you an easier-to-handle return of service, you probably
Dr. Claude Frazier: Psychological preparation is the key to winning tennis.
would have placed the first volley deep to the backhand corner.
But it really wouldn’t have been much more difficult to hit that defensive volley also deep to the backhand comer. The reason you didn’t hit it there is you didn’t think of it. You had your hands full just getting it back. If you teil yourself enough times “hit defensive volley ups to the backhand comer”, you'll soon find yourself able to do just that automatically.
Some participants “choke up” under pressure. Choking up means not playing as well as usual, and typically takes the form of hitting the ball softer than usual, ostensibly for the purpose of “playing it safe”. It is common to tap the second serve when the pressure is on, to make sure to get it in. Surprising to some is the fact that double faults in this situation are quite common.
There are two reasons against tapping the second serve. The first and most obvious is that you might get it shoved down your throat. The second is that it simply is not a safer shot. How many times have you practiced your normal second serve? Probably many hundreds of times. How many times have you practiced a tap? A few times. So the probability is higher that you will be able to get in a harder serve than a softer one.
Consider another pressure situation. It’s 5-4 and your opponent’ serve. You have been returning his serve with good pace deep down the line to his backhand most of the afternoon. Some of your returns — about twenty-five per cent — have been out, but when they have been in you have taken away his serving advantage quite successfully. In fact you have broken his serve twice. Now, in a crucial game, you start playing it safe and floating your returns back. In all probability he rushes the net and starts putting it away, by the second volley if not the first. Which is the safer shot: the one which has a seventy-five per cent probability of going in, and, if it does, gives you a betterthan-even chance of winning the point, or the one which has a ninety-five per cent probability of going in, and, if it does, will almost surely result in loss of the point? The conclusion is obvious: keep driving it back, pressure or no. Sure, you're going to feel the pressure, but the more you try to play as if you're not feeling it, the less it will affect you. Besides, if your foe feels that you are upset, it will give him a psychological edge.
Better you tum things around and put the pressure on him.
While ideally one should bear down on every point, as there are few if any unimportant points, some points are clearly more important than others. Naturally, if the score becomes deuce, all subsequent points are important. The fourth point of a game is also among the most important. If it’s a 40-love or love- 40, the significance is obvious: it’s game point. If it’s 15-30, it is also a pivotal point, because if you win it, youre right back in it at 30-all. If you lose it, your opponent has two game points and a big advantage. Similarly, 30-15 is crucial.
Also, while no game is unimportant, some games are more important than others. Once the score reaches four-all, every game thereafter is important for that set. Before that, the seventh game is pivotal. The set could be over at 6-0, in which case there was no contest anyway. If it’s 5-1, it’s set game. If it’s 4-2, a win would put you up 5-2 and make a comeback extremely unlikely. On the other hand, a loss of the game, bringing the score to 4-3, would nearly equalize things. Never relax, regardless of the lead you may have. The tennis literature abounds with harrowing tales of commanding leads that were blown because the fellow in the lead let down. At the same time, if one is knowledgeable of which are the most important points and which are the most important games, it may help him bear down even more in these situations.
One’s temper is always a vital factor controlling performance. There is some difference of opinion as to whether getting mad is more help or hindrance. Certainly one’s anger shouldn’t continue beyond the immediate point. If, following a point which upsets you, slamming the ball into the fence or muttering a few oaths seems to help, fine — if that is the end of it. Remind yourself that the last point is over, worry about the next point.
Arnold Beisser points out that several world-caliber players talk to themselves unmercifully, as to another person, with expressions such as “You're terrible”, “You're lousy”, “You can’t play”. Beisser further claims that this self-criticism and maligning is almost invariably followed by improvement. It’s as if they needed this form of self-abasement to arouse them to victory.
Next time you hit a few bad shots, try leveling a vicious verbal attack upon yourself. See if it works. Just make sure you don’t take your own words too seriously!
For those of us who like to talk to ourselves, there are still other psychological techniques. Let’s say your name is Jones. Just before you serve, keep saying to yourself, “I’m big Jones.
I'm powerful Jones. I’m terrifying Jones!” This technique is tailor-made for those who subscribe to the power-of-positivethinking school. One caution: don’t let anyone hear you. You don’t want to be laughed off the court. On ground strokes you can say to yourself, “bounce, back, hit” at the exact moments that the ball bounces, you take your racket back, and you hit it, respectively. It sounds like a trick for beginners, but it can’t hurt and it may just help your timing.
There are a great number of environmental conditions that can be distracting: wind, sun, noise, imperfections of the court, balls that don’t bounce right, linesmen who don’t call properly, the girl in the red shorts three courts away. Anything within the field of vision or range of hearing is a potential distractor. Have you ever noticed that on a windy day, when you're winning, the wind doesn’t bother you a bit? But when your're losing, it really disturbs you and you start blaming it for everything. This is a good example of how one’s psychological reaction can be as important as the external situation. When you find yourself playing in the wind, first accept it, remind yourself that your rival is playing under precisely the same conditions, then do everything you can to allow for it. As you rally, take note of how the wind affects the flight of the ball. When you are playing against the wind, remind yourself on every serve to throw the ball just a little more in front of you than usual. On ground strokes say to yourself “hit harder’. When you are playing with the wind at your back, do the reverse. When the sun is bad on one side, tell yourself that your opponent is on that side half the time too. Hit him some lobs right into the sun. Make it his problem as well as yours.
As for other distractors, it is extremely difficult not to think about that joker in the stands who howls with laughter every time you miss a shot. On the other hand, the harder you work thinking about the relevant things: the ball, the moves of your opponent, your position on the court; and the longer you have been working at this, the easier it will be to shut out the irrelevant.
The previous section was primarily concerned with the psychological factors affecting you as a player. This section deals with ways in which psychological factors affect the guy on the other side of the net. Begin by finding his weaknesses and capitalize on them. If possible, scout your prospective foe before the match. During the rally before the match, hit him some deep balls and some short balls and find out how he takes them. Note whether he moves better to the left or to the right and whether he shies away from hitting his backhand. Much can be discovered during this period and during the first few games of the match. If he has a weak backhand, hit it to his backhand the majority of the time. But by no means all the time. The element of surprise is one of the most important strategies that can be used. Hit him a forehand when he least expects it. Also a good mixture of lobs and drop shots will keep him guessing.
Speaking of guessing, there are times when a guess on your part is the percentage move. You are at the net and have just found it necessary to hit a weak short shot to mid court. You can be passed pretty easily on either side. If you wait to see which side he’s going to pass you on, then lunge for that side, it’s too late. Better you guess which side he’s going to hit it to, then move quickly to that side before he hits it (although not so soon that he can still change his shot). If you guess wrong, you would have lost the point anyway. If you guess right, inter-cept his shot, and win the point, it can be worth dozens of points in psychological advantage. Nothing is more demoralizing than losing a “sure” point.
The importance of getting into shape so that you won't get unduly tired was stressed earlier. If you are tired, don't give your opponent a lift by revealing it to him. At the same time, work on tiring him. He should be chased from side to side and made to hit several in a row on the same side, so that he will have to turn and retreat. Even more tiring than running from side to side is running up and back. A series of alternating short angled shots and deep lobs will tire, mentally and physically, all but those in the best condition.
Some of the techniques of psyching out your foe tread a thin line with court ethics. Obviously, you don’t emit loud catcalls while your adversary is waiting for your lob to fall, even though it would very likely unnerve him if you did. Several top players are well known for their inordinate frequency of stopping the match and questioning the linesman’s calls. Some critics insist that they do this in a deliberate attempt to break the opponent’s concentration. At any rate, it seems to help these players compose themselves.
Gardner Mulloy writes of the occasion on which he was called several times for footfaulting. Righteously indignant, Mulloy felt that his opponent, not he, was guilty of footfaulting. Every time they changed ends thereafter, Mulloy remarked, “Would you please quit footfaulting!” Mulloy subsequently won the match and the opponent claimed with some justification that Mulloy’s words, not his tennis, had defeated him. If you really want to win and have absolutely no shame, you might repeatedly query your opponent as to why his forehand is so innocuous. You have to be careful with whom you tangle, though. He might be the type who would counter with the observation that in your tennis outfit you are “without a doubt the most pathetic-looking creature anywhere”.
In addition to the above gross attempts to talk your antagonist out of the match, there are a few, somewhat more genteel psychological practices that are or should be part of every top player's game.
Get your serves in. Many players smash the first one as hard as they can but rarely get it in. Then they tap the second one. As a result the opponent has a tap to return about eighty per cent of the time. Better you hit both of them with moderate speed and with accuracy. There is a big psychological advantage to not having to hit your second serve. The first serve is not hit under as much pressure. Since you don’t have to get it in you can be freer and looser when you're hitting it. Double faulting has been referred to as the cardinal sin of tennis. It should be recognized, however, that it is bound to happen on occasion. The best of the world-class players have been known to double fault. On the other hand, the psychological effects of a double fault can hardly be overemphasized. The server has a let-down.
The returmer gets a lift: he won the point without having to lift a racket. You should practice that second serve until you can get it in with reasonable pace and depth ninety per cent of the time as an absolute minimum. Then when you do double fault, as is inevitable, remind yourself the best players do it and just keep hitting it — the same way. This is not the time to make a major change like suddenly going into an unfamiliar American twist or hitting it underhand. If your serve has been accurate in the past, it will be accurate again.
Move in on your opponent’s second serve and let him see you moving in. Occasionally move in even closer than you think you should and make sure he sees you then. You may not have as much time as you would like to return it, but he will start to wonder how weak his serve really is. Once in a while “stunt” back and forth while he is preparing to serve so that he can't be sure where you'll be for the return. (Don’t get so carried away with your dance that you forget to watch the ball.)
Don’t telegraph your shots. Try to prepare almost exactly the same way, including position of your feet, whether you are going to hit it cross-court or down the line. Never be dependable about what you will do in any given situation.
Try especially hard to win the long rallies. This will tend to create a sense of futility in your rival: that “all that work was for nothing”. A long rally, by the way, is an excellent place to throw in an unexpected drop shot or lob.
Break the momentum. If you have lost several points in a row or several games in a row, walk slowly and deliberately when changing courts. Tie your shoelace. Carefully examine your racket strings. Bounce the ball eight or ten times before serving. These perfectly legal practices, analogous to calling time out in basketball, may cool off your adversary as well as allow you to collect yourself.
Be a pokerface. If you are nervous, angry, depressed, or elated, conceal it. When you serve an ace or hit a brilliant passing shot, even though it may ‘shock you to the core, act nonchalant.
Let him think that this was the most routine of shots.
Try the techniques I have offered and some of them will become a regular part of your game. One must keep in mind, however, the wide range of individual differences in temperament and in style. Not everyone will benefit from talking to himself. While some people are better off exploding all over the court when they get mad, others do better holding it in.
Find out what works for you.
Let me close with a re-emphasis upon what I consider to be the most important psychological factor in winning at tennis:
watching the ball. If you keep your eye and mind glued on that little white (or yellow) object, it will help you slaughter your opponents, to murder them! After all, that’s what this gentleman’s game is all about.
James Johnson stroked the ball across the net to his opponent with casual ease. As an old timer, experienced in the ways of tennis, he neither slammed the ball, angled it, tried many overhead shots, rushed the net, nor left the base line at the center stripe when returning shots. He was loosening up for his match. His baggy warm-up suit made him look even more stocky than his 70-inch, 200-pound frame. His bald head and bifocal lenses accentuated his sixty years. His opponent on the other side of the net was a true contrast. He was young, lithe, and rangy. He kept banging away with great vigor at each ball hit to him. His two-handed backhand belted the ball. When at the service line, he cannonballed each stroke as his long hair dangled, and swished in all directions. He emphasized his youthful nineteen years. By mutual consent, the warm-ups ceased. The racket was spun for choice of serve and side. They retired to their respective baselines. There was, however, a difference in individual approach. As Johnson took off his trousers and coat, he seemed to shed twenty or thirty pounds. He looked big and burly, like the football player he once was. He strode to the center of the court, quickly jumped over the net and half-ran, half-walked to the baseline, calling out a sharp “let’s go”. The sight of a baldheaded, heavy-muscled, net-jumping opponent, albeit sixty, shook up the young opponent so much that the older man quickly garnered three games before the long-haired one realized that he was being psyched.
With very few exceptions, there are few action sports involving direct confrontation in which psyche plays such a major role as in tennis. It is estimated that in an ordinary tennis match between two (or four) opponents, psyching plays a sixty per cent role. There are few sports where téte-a-téte confrontations not only pit skills and natural athletic talent, but where mental and emotional attitudes play such a vital role. The ability of one player to disarrange, disparage, discourage, irritate, frustrate, disorganize, and break the concentration of his opponent, becomes a major determining factor in the outcome of a close match. This action, when deliberately employed by the experienced player (or inadvertently by a neophyte when playing a skilled competitor) is called psyche. Properly applied, psyche is intended to disrupt the plan of action, natural reflexes, or expected motions of his competitor across the court.
Deliberate psyching must not break the fairly rigid rules of play established by the International or U.S. Lawn Tennis
Association. In tournament matches, the number of linesmen will vary according to the importance of the specific contest, but an umpire who is the last word on the court (he can refer certain problems to the outside-of-the-court referee or tournament chairman) will generally not brook continued or obvious attempts at psyche by a player (especially one known to be a chronic “bad actor’). Therefore, the psyche needs finesse, new wrinkles, different innovations and a careful technique.
There are many ways to psyche an opponent. A trite method is to delay a game due to an alleged injury. It will upset his rival if a player feigns a turned ankle, a leg cramp, or heat stroke. There’s a natural human tendency for a player to be concemed over his opponent’s injury or illness. Even if his concentration is not altogether wrecked, the “well” player will still feel un-easy. If the alleged injury is due to being struck by a ball, or a fall into the net or posts or fence, the opponent will have a normal tendency to slacken his own attack purely out of sympathy. Another ploy for the player who is tired, hot, and behind in the score may be to claim injury, ilmess or need for a medical examination from an official in order to gain a short rest.
Also, there is always equipment-adjustment psyche. The commonest way is to stop play by bending over to tie or untie, and tie again a dragging shoelace. Or readjust clothes, or put on a cap (or take one off) or put on (or take off) sweat bands from forehead or wrist. Or he might take an extra moment at the sidelines to wipe his brow, sip a drink, dry his hands on the towel, or change his shirt or get another tennis racket, while his opponent is raring to go and champing at the bit along his own. baseline.
There is always a way to make an opponent cringe. A topseeded player meeting a rival in the early rounds introduces himself modestly by using his given name only. This emphasizes his established greatness, since he correctly assumes that everybody knows him. The use of his given name tends to put down his rival, usually an unknown or an inexperienced tournament player. The seeded great one further cows his intended rival | by calling him by his last name, but during the match he might throw his young rival off-guard and off-pace even more by condescending to question a close call by saying, “What did you call that, Bill?” If it’s a really close one in the absence of an attending linesman, the great one will get the benefit of the option.
Calling out at intervals during a match which is not being umpired, can be a contrived bit of psyche. This is particularly upsetting when the call is made just as the serve is about to be delivered. Asking an opponent if the score is 30-all, when it is 40-15, is deliberately irritating. One’s momentum and timing goes awry. Even if the score is provocatively called out correctly, as 30-all, the discussion breaks up necessary concentration. If the call is a question of point score and the listener is down love-3 or 1-4, the psyche attempt tends to tighten him up, tense his reflexes and overburden him with the natural anxiety of being down. This is a modus operandi engaged in by players who know their rival’s tendency to be upset by conversation.
Talking during a tennis match on matters best left unsaid is a routine ploy. Comments like “good return” or “nice shot” or
“terrific” or “how in the world did you get that back?” or “doggone, that’s my best shot you hit back”, are not always intended to be polite, encouraging or gentlemanly remarks. When repeated often, they tend to lower the opponent’s guard and guide him into an aura of false security. The constant praise lulls his defensive weaponry into vulnerable penetrability. He’s being set up for the oncoming kill. When several shots have passed him or he’s been running from net to baseline or from forehand to backhand corners, and losing out, it dawns on him that he’s been had. The frustration causes him to fret, and to rage. His wise opponent’s ploy takes its toll.
Lawrence P. Carlson was the titular head of the largest industry in town. He kept his head well above the civic problems besetting a community dominated by his huge payroll. He also kept his physical being properly oiled, loose, and relaxed by indulging in the finest bodily endeavor his fifty years would permit. He worked at, and thoroughly enjoyed, playing tennis and he played to win. Since he was a large, heavy-set, relatively slow though strong individual without the natural rangy litheness usually associated with born tennis players, he employed psyche on the courts.
He had a built-in advantage as he took to the courts. He was the head man and in the weekly tournaments most of the players were his employees. So he would stride onto the courts with executive confidence, exude a quizzical “Hi, Tom (or Dick or
Jack)”, while his opponent dutifully responded with a “Good evening, Dr. Carlson”.
He was condescendingly friendly, but cool. After the toss for first service and court side, he was all encouragement. When his opponent’s ball was out by a few inches, he’d stop and say, “Too bad, Dick, it was just out.” Or, if his opponent returned a difficult shot that missed the alley or base line, he’d call out, “Awfully good try, it missed only by an inch.” Thus, Dr. Carlson could never be accused of calling shots badly, but he frustrated his opponents who expended energy and sweat in retuming a toughie, only to have it called out by a fraction.
Frequently he asked for a different time to play his match from the scheduled one. In almost all cases, tournament officials, like his opponents, worked for him. He got his way. He had a habit of asking his opponent when he was in the act of serving, for the score. Or he’d call out an obviously wrong score, just as his opponent was about to come down with his serve. When stopping to question the count, usually by walking toward the net as if for discussion (and thereby breaking up timing), his opponent, unhappy and a little mad, would serve furiously, only to double fault. On occasion he would turn to his partner, usually the accounts chief or public relations man, and ask him whether their opponents’ ball was in or out, thereby going into a conference to the discomfiture and frustration of the opponents.
He knew that all the answers to the questions he frequently asked his tennis-playing subaltern were unnecessary. Oh, he won more often than not. But it was not due to his physical ability as much as his capability in extracting poor, frustrating play from his psyched opponent.
A gross psyche employed by top professional and ranking amateurs is to dispute the linesman’s call or question the umpire’s score. At the least, the “bad actor” accomplishes a game delay which can diminish his rival's winning momentum. Again should the umpire inadvertently call the score mnapeiraich distraction can be initiated by a losing player. We have seen this ruse in major amateur and professional tournaments. The alleged offended player will slam the ball down, throw his racket into the air, or raise both arms to the sky in a gesture of pleading his cause to the heavens.
Displays of temper by world-renowned players at major tournaments against officials have been seen via television by millions. Tennis is an international sport, still considered a gentleman’s game, and officials are allegedly paragons of honesty and virtue, but international matches have been called prejudiciously by overzealous nationalist-inclined officials. The temper tantrums of the maligned players are also well known. Hitting the ball toward an audience made hostile by obvious bad temper, or toward a linesman, or using bad language, make for internationally known “bad actors”. However, their lack of good sportsmanship does not ordinarily psyche an experienced opponent.
At most major tournaments, the stands contain tennis buffs who watch the action on the courts with more cognizance than the usual crowds at sporting events, because many of them play the game. How many of the millions who watch college and pro football or major league baseball are, or were, players? Yet tennis enthusiasts know tennis from an esoteric angle. They have played or still play tennis. They are fully aware of the tense contest before them. They can recognize psyche being employed in the local, state, regional, national or pro tournament. They react to the players’ antics as if they themselves were actively participating. They applaud a good shot with short gentlemanly bursts. They are quiet during play and are quick to acknowledge a successful difficult shot. The players in tum react sensitively to the stands. On occasion a player will stop play while someone is walking down the side lines, or standing up and mixing about in that part of the stands across his line of vision, or will harshly admonish a photographer for taking pictures along the side lines or behind the baseline. The flash of a photographer's lights near the tennis court or even into the stands evokes anger. The player will stop and plead his cause, sometimes to the umpire, sometimes directly at the offending photographer, and often with a derogatory remark generally directed to the stands. This facility of delaying the game for good cause or no reason at all, can be a psyche deliberately aimed to upset the concentration of the enemy across the court. The more innocent opponent will feel empathy toward his alleged maligned opponent and will, inadvertently, relax his own game.
For many years it was traditional to wear all-white clothes on the tennis court. Along with the metal-stringed, overly longhandled tennis rackets, men wore full-length flannel trousers and V-necked shirts. The women wore loose, multi-petticoated, burdensome ankle-length dresses. Some decades ago, the practical short-sleeved tennis shirts and shorts were introduced. Any variance was frowned upon, until Gussie Moran, a comely, pretty, most feminine figure, strode out on the sacred centercourt at Wimbledon wearing frilly lace panties. The fact that she was a high-ranked player deliberately displaying her physical charms in a major tournament before a large live audience created a stir that was heard around the entire tennis world. After considerable controversy, the frilly clothes stayed. The revolution that was begun by Gussie Moran is now a multimillion dollar business. Now there is greater acceptance of color and style, although diehards on the Rules and Regulations Committee of the USLTA still make restrictions. However, distractions caused by clothes continue.
Dan Fisher is a typical example of a_better-than-average player who consistently employs every stratagem to win. In a city where tennis is king, this man worked diligently to be a winner. Without natural talents, he resorted to a game of defense. He never attacked. He was known to use every means to frustrate, irritate and anger his opponent. In his forties, playing frequently throughout the year, he developed good rhythm, quick reflexes and consistent ability to return the ball. Without a strong service, he relied upon lengthy matches to wear down opponents. He seldom made a mistake. More than anything else, he deployed corny means to madden the fellow on the opposite court. He stopped for allegedly necessary equipment adjustments, talked constantly to himself, and used bad language. At a missed shot, he would cry out, “That’s a helluva great shot, Dan.” He not only succeeded in shocking a new audience, but the novice opponent became bewildered, unsure, angered, and eventually caused errors in his anxiety to get the match over with. He gave up points trying to hit the ball hard at Dan, whose game remained constant.
Dan Fisher kept up a running chatter with linesmen, umpires, spectators. From time to time he walked toward the fence or stands to wave at someone he recognized. Play was all too frequently disrupted for a brief second, long enough to upset his opponent and too short to invoke a warming from the umpire, if one was present. Frequent bad calls occurred only when officials were not present. His antics were well known in his home town. One day he played a quarter-final match with an unknown player from a distant town. He warmed up with his jacket tightly drawn. After the toss for service was lost, he turned his back on his opponent, took off his jacket, walked to the baseline to receive. The server was shaken. In large letters on Dan Fisher’s tennis shirt was the word SCHIZO. Dan won the first four games before his opponent could settle down. The psyche was on. After Fisher called numerous shots just inside the baseline or service line or side line as out, the novice opponent, unsure, confused and maddened, finally lost. His routine was effective only when his opponent did not know him. Those who consented to play with him in his home town, were not upset by his antics.
As in any other sport, there are those who seek to win, at whatever cost. To them a win is a must. They are commonly known as “trophy hunters”. These players stop at nothing to achieve another metallic symbol of victory.
Another master at the art of psyche is Brad Cobb. This 51year-old grandfather is a 74-inch, 225-pound strong man. Having worked out-of-doors all his life and a former basketball player, he is in excellent physical shape. His reflexes are as quick as a young boy’s. His natural ability is linked with an irrepressible desire to win. Brad’s overhead smashes remind one of Stan
Smith or Pancho Gonzales. His pickups from the floor are made with the old-time skill of a Don Budge. His weak backhand is compensated by a forcefully quick wrist motion. Only moderately fast, he overcomes this by innate anticipation. He has an ability to reach out to smash or flip his wrist to angle his shots beyond reach. One would think that with all this power and control, he would not need to call close shots in his favor. Indeed, when linesmen are present, they dread calling his matches because of his many arguments. Winning, by his 30
-own admission, is a must. He can’t play tennis for sport’s sake.
He aims only to win. Psyche is employed as much as skill. His desire to excel is manifest as he constantly talks to opponents, spectators, officials.
Brad Cobb prefers to play doubles. Even here he invokes tricks. He psyches his partner, berates him for making a poor shot, constantly plots to destroy the momentum and rhythm of his opponents. He points out his partner’s errors. He tells him where to stand, how to hit, which of his opponents to hit to.
He is not above using histrionics to accomplish his aim. He shouts instructions, cajoles and, in irritating his partner, he stimulates him into a great game just to show Cobb that he really is far better than Cobb makes him out to be. Indeed, most of his partners play better with him than ordinarily. He can actually psyche his partner.
At one time, while playing a mixed-doubles team, he hit the ball again and again toward the girl on the opposite court. When the ball came close to or actually did hit her, he’d rush toward the net in abject apology, sweet talking. Then he tumed around, winked at his partner and said in a whisper, “That'll teach her to get too close to the net.” Another time his partner missed retuming a ball which hit the outside alley lines, signalling at the same time with his palm down that it was a good ball. sae Cobb, who also was chasing the angulated shot yelled
. When his partner, who was closest to the ball, insisted AG it was good, Brad Cobb cried out, ranted and asked his partner whether he was playing with or against him. In the manner of a Lionel Barrymore, he then dropped his racket, looked up into the sky and raised both arms, pleading, “Jim
Downs, where are you?” This was Cobb’s old tennis partner who had died one year before. His psyche worked. Cobb’s partner was so furious, he boomed his serves and smashed his returns in, in sheer anger. They won the match handily.
Up to this point, we have discussed the attempt of one player to upset, irritate and decrease the concentration, rhythm, flow and confidence of his opponent. However, there is also selfpsyche. We all know the frustration of a poorly hit ball, or a double fault at a crucial 15-30 count, or a ball you hit past your rival which was called out when you felt it was in. Another self-psyche results from the realization that you are allowing your opponent to psyche you. Getting mad at yourself or at your doubles partner, or because of opponents’ actions, or an official’s questionable call, or an audience reaction, or whatever, is a self-psyche. It does not relate to winning tournament tennis.
Getting “mad” at oneself while on the court is not always a disastrous type of self-psyche. It sometimes results in better play; a harder ball, livelier foot work, a quicker chase for a side-line ball or a more booming overhead smash. The adrenalin of excitement, the stimulation of self-induced irritation can result in greater care, power and desire. Stimulative self-psyche is part of the make up of all top-notch players. Who doesn’t know that Billie Jean King constantly talks to herself, or that Rosemary Cassals frowns ominously after a questionable call or after hitting a put-away shot out of the court, or that tiny Nancy Richey Gunter grunts loudly with each quick return? Often, the mannerisms adopted by well known players are not just crowd pleasers. They are deliberate self-applied efforts made to stimulate the already tense player to greater heights.
If court psyche really represents sixty per cent of play when two players of fairly equal skill are matched in a tense contest, then it seems quite legal to use any artful means calculated to cause a change of rhythm or momentum in order to make points. If the purpose of a match is not just physical exercise, then any psychological means to achieve that win is permissible. The experienced knowledgeable player uses it contentiously or inadvertently on the court. When he recognizes his opponent is attempting a psyche on him, he should and does shrug it off. It’s part of the game. Where the opponents have relatively equal skills, only the raw amateur or novice tournament player is sensitive to psyche. It makes the difference between winning and, ugh, losing.
Only very recently the latent potentialities of the human mind have been recognized. The brain is now acknowledged as a human machine impassioned with a great power to exert both intrinsic and extrinsic controls. In its simplest form the phenomenon is called mind over matter, and in its most complex form “cyberation”, a term that implies self-regulation of activity. It is a process of conscious control over our own behavior in relation to the objects and events around us.
Historically, the human mind was seen as mystical. A museum piece. A cosmic playground beyond scrutiny. But today the electrical business of the brain has been opened to investigation, and now it has become clear that its goings on are in interaction with events far outside of itself. And, while the mind may of course be influenced by events, the more fascinating aspect is that the mind may also connive to exert its own influence on events. Moreover, it is both subservient to, and master of, its own biological housing — the human body.
This interaction between mind and body has been proved beyond doubt by recent medical findings that a great many bodily malfunctions are apparently prompted by psychological stresses. Thus, the term psychosomatic illness has become household. But, if mental processes can cause detrimental changes in the body, it becomes possible to anticipate that, through training, the mind could also effect positive changes. And indeed, it has been done. Some persons with high blood pressure have learned to reduce that pressure by thought alone. Others with racing hearts have been able to slow them down. Epileptics have had some success in suppressing the abnormal electrical brain activity characteristic of their condition. And insomniacs have been taught to voluntarily create the brain waves typical of sleep.
More subtle is the effect this self-initiated brain activity can have on everyday life. Since it is known that the created electrical operations of the brain result in a self-governing system — a sort of mental programming which determines our patterns of behavior and consequently our patterns of life — then the critical factor in this human cybermetic system is the kind of information we feed into it. For example, if we supply it with data which has negative connotations (we are inferior, incompetent, incapable, etc.) then the resulting negative self-image leads to an expectation and anticipation of failures. By contrast, if the data we give to our cybemetic servant is positive, our self-image and behavior patterns will also be positive. In effect, everything you want to happen you can cause to happen.
The phenomenal power of creative positive imagining, along with conscious activity, has often allowed persons to succeed over seemingly impossible odds. Beethoven, for example, composed one of his most revered works even after he had gone deaf. Robert Burns was illiterate as a child. Milton was blind.
Helen Keller was deprived of all normal communicative avenues. Harold Connally suffered a birth injury which caused his left arm to be withered, yet he set a world record for the hammer throw (which requires the use of two hands). An Hungarian pistol marksman named Karoly Takase lost his dominant right arm in an accident, then leamed to shoot with his left hand, and won gold medals in the 1948 and 1952 Olympic games. Jim Ryun, who set a record for the mile run as a high school senior, couldn’t even make his high school track team the first time he tried out.
How does all this relate to tennis? Is there some sort of transcendental potential within all of us which could possibly help us to be more effective at hitting a little ball over a net? Can we use something besides plain old blood and sweat to improve our game? The answer, obviously, is yes!
Fundamentally, cybernetic programming can be used in two ways in tennis. First, the very nature of every tennis player's game emanates from what can be called, for lack of. a better way to put it, his “tennis self-image”. And secondly, improvement in tennis skills can be made possible through the use of mental imagery. Both deserve some detailed discussion.
Through the years that I have played and taught the game of tennis I have gradually come to realize that there are two kinds of players. I’m not referring to good ones and bad ones, although their success is directly related to the classification they would fall into. What I do mean is that all players tend to have either a positive or a negative self-image relating to their own ability to play the game. Not only is there a difference in the skill of all players, but there is also a difference in the way players think about their own game. Without exception, those players who are habitually successful at tennis have in-grained in their own minds a positive attitude about their ability. They never anticipate losing a match, and their affinity for winning cannot correctly be regarded as incidental or accidental.
But others, regulated by the self-initiated impulse that they are incapable of successful tennis play, constantly perpetuate that image through the character of their play. As a result they lose often, even though in the great majority of cases they are far more capable than they give themselves credit for.
When successful players and sports psychologists are asked what are the ingredients of a habit of winning, their answers generally relate not to the physical but to the psyche. Physical ability is important, most certainly, but when the level of skill among competing players is approximately the same, it is the difference in the players’ psychological attributes which determines the winners and the losers.
Let me explain. I have not, nor has anyone else, discovered a formula which can be plugged into any aspiring tennis player, regardless of his skill, to produce an instant world-class champion. Because of innate limitations in our muscular and nervous systems, the great majority of us are, and will always be destined to be, average players (in terms of skill). No amount of practice and positive mental imagery will ever make us into a Rod Laver. But that’s a matter of relativity, because the great majority of us never really did intend to be professionals anyway. All we want is to be successful within our own circles — to win, and often, at our own competitive levels. And with the application of some basic cybernetic principles, we can.
A reasonable way to approach this endeavor is to first consider the personalities and characteristics of the superior athlete — those traits which seem to accompany outstanding athletic performance. In so doing we may discover certain elements which, if applied, can assist our own game.
Athletic performance is now recognized as a multidimensional aggregate of efforts. To discover if there are any common psychological traits among those athletes who have been successful, sports psychologists have, in the last dozen or so years, been administering personality tests to athletes in all types of sports. At San Jose State College in California, Professors Bruce
Ogilvie and Thomas Tutko have begun an organization called the Institute for the Study of Athletic Motivation. Its purpose is to investigate the psychological make-up of athletes to determine the traits that distinguish top performers from average and/or poor ones. Similar efforts, though less intensive, have been made at other colleges throughout the United States and in Europe. And now, because of all these probings, some clear results have emerged.
Superior athletic performance is usually achieved by persons who have a background of success in other life ventures. Research shows that those persons successful in athletics are constantly exploiting their own potential so that they tend to become successful in any undertaking. Usually, they had parents who demonstrated high aspiration and achievement levels. And, since success is contagious, their parental energies rubbed off on them. Moreover, successful athletes tend to be unusually aggressive, but they have channeled their aggressiveness into rational goal attainment. Sometimes their aggressive nature erupts as hostility, particularly when they are young, but eventually it is controlled and realistically directed. These persons enjoy all sorts of competition, for it allows them to be assertive.
The best example of this trait in the tennis world is Pancho Gonzales. He seems to be motivated by a murderous determination to win. There are. times when he is cold, sullen, and outright antagonistic. Yet his temperamental outbursts have never adversely affected his ability to win, even today when age has slowed his reflexes. Winning is not a sometimes thing with Gonzales, but he has indicated that it was far easier for him to become a winner than to stay a winner. In his words, “Once a player has reached the top, he can suffer from a fear of losing or he can lose his hunger for winning.” This is an interesting observation on his part, for research indicates that many athletes, having become winners, not only lose their desire, but also actually fear, winning. For them, winning produces the pressure of having to win again. And to maintain their role as champions they would need to play even better in future competitive situations.
Often, a player will subconsciously refuse to assume such a role because he knows that he would not be able to handle the future pressures of being a winner, and thus he stops just short of ultimate success even though it is within his capacity. By contrast, research also indicates that those players who do win constantly are natured so that being second in anything is not satisfying. They must win to satisfy their ego. And at anything: a tennis game, a card game, or a business venture. So, they direct their aggressiveness toward their objective of winning and they make things happen rather than waiting for them to happen. In tennis, they play an offensive game, taking the battle to their opponent instead of being content to sit on the base line and win points only through the mistakes of their opponents.
Next, successful athletes are task oriented in that they are able to concentrate wholly upon the demands of the moment. In tennis they play each point as an entity, not dependent on any previous play. Golfer Billy Casper, referring to this selfdiscipline of being able to isolate his concentration on each golf shot, said, “Your last shot can’t be changed. You must forget it and concentrate on the next one. Young players tend to fret about their bad shots and their whole game is affected.” Baseball pitcher Bob Gibson once indicated that he thought the most successful players were the ones who could forget their failures the fastest. Stan Musial, when asked why he never experienced a prolonged “slump” in a sport where slumps are commonplace.
said it was because he was able to project his entire concentration on each individual time at bat. Moreover, Musial stated that he never really did believe he had any superior athletic skill, but that his baseball success was due to the fact that he never allowed previous performances to interfere with his future performance. Rod Laver, the year he became only the second player in history to win the Grand Slam of tennis (the four major championships in one year — he did it in 1962 and again in 1969) said that before the United States Singles (the fourth of the four) he was so nervous he couldn’t even carry his rackets to courtside without dropping them. Thinking back about the match later, he said, “Strain had never got me into toils
like that in any match I had ever played. I couldn’t hear anything, and my body felt boneless.” But as the match wore on, Laver recalls, his fear turned to an overpowering will to win the Slam so that he became, literally, a man possessed. As already hinted, another characteristic of successful athletes is their tremendous desire to excel. Call it drive, dedication, need, compulsion, whatever, it is a forceful obligation they have placed on themselves to be satisfied only with being the very best, and they will work tirelessly at accomplishing that objective. Furthermore (and this is usually an overlooked attribute), they have, sometimes subconsciously, given themselves a time objective as well — a particular point in their lives when they want to have accomplished a series of sub-goals leading to their ultimate ambition. And virtually nothing will keep them off their schedule. Bill Tilden, considered by many to have been the greatest maestro of tennis skills the game has ever seen, once remarked that in the early stages of his career he felt his progress was too slow, so he took an entire year off from all other life pursuits to spend every waking hour practising his game. And Ken Rosewall, talking of how infrequently he is able to just go home and relax, has stated that tennis was, is, and has to be, an all-encompassing effort, over and above anything else in life, for anyone to become a champion.
Top players are also very perceptive of their own physical and emotional limitations and attributes. They recognize very clearly their playing strengths and weaknesses, and while they do spend some time on improving their weaknesses, they put their greatest effort into perfecting their strengths. Basketball player Walt
- Frazier, when he first became a professional, remarked that the greatest difference between the professional and the college players was that the pro players know what they do best and capitalize on that skill to parlay it into their overpowering asset, while the college players do not. Johnny Unitas, recognizing that there were more skilled quarterbacks than himself in professional football, also realized that he had an uncanny ability to be able to read and make adjustments to different defensive formations, so he studied game films endlessly to perfect his skill. Relating this to team success Vince Lombardi made the classic statement, “Extraordinary teams do not do extraordinary things — they do ordinary things extraordinarily well.” And Billie Jean King may have put it most succinctly when she said of her tennis game, “I try to perfect my strong points and make
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, successful athletes have a high level of self-confidence about their ability to perform, especially under pressure. Golfer Amold Palmer, speaking of this confidence, said, “I always believe I’m going to hit a perfect shot. I never doubt that I can. I almost say to the ball, “Go to that spot, and when it doesn’t I’m surprised as hell.” Bill Tilden remarked, “The knowledge of what you have in your own game, and the sincere belief that it will win, provided it is played to the best of your ability — that is confidence, and it will carry you far.” As examples all of us undoubtedly know of a player who can hit a great game during a pre-match warmup, but when the match begins goes into a shaky-kneed response which exemplifies itself in a tendency to play strictly a defensive and cautious game.
In summary, then, the mental aspect of athletic competition is far more important than has been previously appreciated. It determines to a great extent who can make maximum use of his athletic ability to become a consistent winner.
Although we have considered here the characteristics of persons who have made athletics their career, there are factors which apply to competition at all levels. The key seems to be that, for an athlete to be successful, he must sincerely want to be successful. But for our purposes, for the hundreds of thousands of us who are weekend players rather than professionals, we must strike a compromise between the fierce determinism that characterizes the pro player and our own tendency to play at tennis for the sake of losing. However, at any level of play, winning is more fun than losing. Those players who do have a habit of losing will often rationalize away their habit by making comments about it being the game itself which is more important than winning. They try to explain that it’s the excitement of the play itself which is rewarding rather than the score. Whenever I talk to someone expressing that philosophy, I admit to them that of course there is something inherently stimulating .
about just being on the court and batting a ball across a net, but that kind of excitement is largely a physical feeling, while the psychological fascination of tennis is reflected by and directly correlated to the frequency of winning. “If you enjoy the game as much as you say you do,” I ask them, “even though you lose often, is it not conceivable that you would enjoy it even more if you were able to win more?” And I honestly do not know of one person who can say with all sincerity that he would not enjoy being more successful at tennis than he presently is. Playing better than you ever have, or ever dreamed possible, is a real ego trip. Tennis is in itself a captivating pursuit, but the totality of participation is in realizing your full potential.
Now then, the most important single factor in promoting success in your own game is the attitude you have about your ability. Simply, if your tennis self-image is negative your game will be too. Perhaps I can best illustrate this by telling you about a couple of friends of mine. One chap, who is actually a very skilled tennis player, is the embodiment of someone who anticipates failure. Sometimes he will play a truly splendid brand of tennis, executing his strokes as masterpieces of engineering skill, and thoroughly defeating his opponent. And then, if he hits a few consecutive bad shots, and loses a few back-to-back games, he will, without exception, make a comment in some form of, “I knew it couldn’t last.” In other words, he actually expects that at some point in the match he will fail, and he isn’t the least bit surprised when he does. On other occasions he might start a match badly, perhaps having his serve broken in the first game, and as he changes courts he will remark to his opponent, “Well, there’s the start of another bad day.” And all this coming from a player who has exceptional skill! He is a walking example of the axiom, “I knew I couldn’t do it!”
By contrast, another friend of mine is just the opposite. The first time we ever competed against each other he won rather handily, and after the match I promised him that the next time we played I would give him a much better challenge.
“Perhaps,” he said, “but you'll not win.” “Oh really?” I asked, surprised at how candid he was, “And why not?”
“Because I won’t allow you to!” was his quick reply. I didn’t realize then how serious he was. And I didn’t really know exactly what he meant. But I do now. Every time we are about to begin a match he tells me, or anyone else he competes against, that his intention is to win. And he says it in no uncertain terms. And as the match progresses he offers occasional feedback to remind you of his resolve, lest you have forgotten. He is so fiercely determined to win (and he does) that he is just not going to allow himself to lose. And the reason he is not going to lose, in his own mind, is simply because he is not going to lose.
Anyhow, and I’m very certain about this, athletic success is a combination of many factors, the most important of which is the mental disposition of the performer. Having a strong and sincere belief in your own ability to be or to become successful is an absolute necessity to progress. Whether you recognize it or not, you play tennis exactly the way you think you can. The success of your game is very consistent with your self-image.
So, if your progression in tennis has stagnated, it is very likely your tennis self-image which must be changed. And indeed it can be changed. And that change will increase your ability to learn and to improve. Then everything about tennis, including your enjoyment of it, will be enhanced.
The second way in which cybermetic programming can be used to improve your tennis skill may seem to be, at first examination, a bit mystical.
Recently the field of physical education has put forth a theory which contends that merely thinking about doing something creates an electrical patterning in the muscles that would be involved were the person actually doing it, even though that person may be sitting in a chair at the moment. For example, when one sees oneself going through the sequence of hitting a tennis ball, minute electrical action potentials which would be generated in the actual overt act are duplicated, although on a smaller scale. This mental picturing of an act, properly directed, can thus be used to aid in attaining a coordinated performance of that act.
Such mental imagery has been used for centuries, and has been scientifically researched at least as early as 1890. But it has been only very recently that the full possibilities of its application have begun to be realized. While controlled laboratory investigations have been taking place to discover the potential, popular books have been acquainting the general public with the basic idea. (I refer particularly to Norman Vincent Peale’s The Power of Positive Thinking, and Maxwell
The hypothesis in all cases is that the individual induce a sort of conscious self-hypnosis, or self-suggestion, in which he actually visualizes himself attaining a certain goal, or performing a certain act, and that this effort will increase his chances of it actually happening. It is a procedure of establishing an objective, a clear-cut goal, and then creating a mental picture, through the use of imagination, of the attainment of that goal. It consists of setting rational goals, practising and experiencing mental imagery of those goals, and then consciously acting toward the attainment of them.
Now, teachers of tennis, or of any physical activity, have traditionally thought of practice only in terms of overt performance. The amount of learning and improvement in an activity was considered to be in direct relationship with the time spent in physical practice. A sort of leaning by doing. But recent research dealing with cybemetic possibilities has indicated that improvement in a physical activity may be brought about merely by thinking about performing that activity.
The literature has used the term “mental practice” to denote this introspective, or covert practice of a physical task. It involves conceptualizing, actually creating a mental picture, of a physical performance. It means, for example, actually seeing yourself going through the motion of serving a tennis ball, or hitting a smooth backhand, or charging the net for a pointending volley. And it is all based on the now recognized close relationship between mind and body.
For some time it has been known that physical performance increases the electrical activity of the brain. And it was also known that, even though a person might be resting, he could increase the electrical activity of his muscles simply by concentrating on a mental problem. What is now being realized is that it is possible to direct one’s mental activity to produce increased efficiency in muscular responses.
All of us have used mental practice to some extent. We may visualize ourselves buying a new car, or getting a promotion in our job, or being an outstanding athlete. How much this has affected or directed our energies is a matter of speculation, for in most cases it is just daydreaming. Perhaps more exemplary of mental practice is the type of visualization we do when trying to figure out a mechanical puzzle, or when we are making a home improvement and we can see the final product even
Billie Jean King, with drive and probably the most keen competitive instinct, has fought her way time and again to her rightful position as the best women’s tennis player in the world.
before we start. In tennis all of us have thought about our performance from time to time, but mostly this has been hindsight as we review our mistakes instead of using mental practice to program future performance.
There are two very good reasons why mental practice should be utilized by everyone who wishes to improve his tennis game.
Most importantly, it will lead to a better game. And secondly, it may partially make up for the lack of time we all have for physical practice of tennis skills.
I should point out that I am in no way proposing mental rehearsal of tennis as a complete substitute for overt physical practice. But by creating a habit of thinking about and analyzing your game you will be able to ensure a greater use of your own ability. Research verifies this. Controlled studies of mental practice of sports skills have shown that it is beneficial to the execution of that skill. Let me give you a few examples.
In one study, three groups of high school boys, each group equal in ability, were given the following variables. One group practised twenty-five basketball free-throws daily; another group did nothing; and the third group came to the gymnasium, but sat down and imagined themselves shooting twenty-five free-throws. After fourteen days the groups were tested. The physical practice group showed a twenty-five percent improvement, the resting group showed no improvement, and the group which used mental practice showed an amazing twenty-four per cent improvement. Similar results, all reported in recognized scientific journals, have been shown in studies applying mental practice to gymnastic skills, throwing for accuracy, swimming, and such novel skills as juggling. All have found mental practice to be beneficial to performance.
Two studies have been reported in which mental practice was applied to tennis. One study used 183 male college students as subjects, and the other used 75 female college students. Both studies divided their subjects into three equated groups, then had one group practise forehand and backhand drives daily, another group do nothing, and the third group only mentally practise hitting forehand and backhand drives. As might be expected, the group that practised physically in each study showed considerable improvement, while the groups that did nothing showed no improvement. But the amazing finding was, that in both studies, the groups which practised mentally improved almost as much as the physical practice group, even though they never once touched a tennis racket during the practice sessions.
But now, before we accept on blind faith that mental practice can help our game, we must establish some guidelines for its use. To be effective, mental practice must be properly employed. One cannot just sit idly by, think about becoming,a Ken
Rosewall or a Billie Jean King, and have it happen. That would just be hallucinating. But by more closely examining those research studies that have employed mental practice, we can come up with some realistic conclusions as to how it can best be used.
There is not one bit of evidence to show that mental practice is superior to physical practice, but test results have shown that mental practice is most effective when used in combination with overt practise. When, therefore, one practises both physically and mentally at a sports skill, improvement can be expected to be over and above what would be accomplished by use of either one alone.
But there is one very important consideration before anyone can use mental practice. This cybemetic-type of skill rehearsal can be used only by persons who have had enough experience in the sport to be able to recognize what is as opposed to what is not effective technique. An inexperienced person would be unable to know what to focus his attention on, sort of like trying to mentally practise flying an airplane if you’ve never seen an instrument panel. Unless you know the mechanics which produce effective tennis strokes, it is impossible to mentally practise those mechanics. Conceivably, if wrong technique were mentally practised, wrong technique would be leamed.
Then, with the recognition that mental practice can result in improvements in skill — that it does produce electrical activity in the muscles and probably creates a neurological channeling of the movements involved in a skill — the question is how to properly apply its potential. For the many of us wanting to improve our tennis play, what is the best way to use this mental practice?
It should first be stated that no one has all the answers yet. There is no scientific knowledge as to whether there are different kinds of mental practice. Nor does anyone know exactly how much time should be spent in mental practice as compared to physical practice. But it appears that it can benefit every tennis player alive, within the following guidelines.
First, and perhaps most important, the mental practice should actually produce a kinetic feeling of the overt movement. For example, if you were mentally practising serving, you should genuinely feel yourself going through the motion, sometimes trying it with your eyes open and at other times with your eyes closed. This does require some mental discipline, but is is important since when you overtly perform the serve you do not actually see it, therefore the mental practice should be directed to the feeling of the serve.
Normally the mental practice should be visualized at the same speed at which you would outwardly perform the skill. See yourself hitting a backhand at the same speed that you physically perform the act. But, as a change of routine, occasionally visualize yourself doing the skill in slow motion. In this manner you are able to see, feel, and analyze every aspect of the skill.
The whole of the skill should be mentally rehearsed, not just a portion of it. This includes any activity leading up to the actual execution of the skill. As an example, suppose you were to mentally practise the serve. Your mental imagery should then include any readiness movements you make before you serve, such as adjusting your foot position behind the base line, bouncing the ball, taking aim, etc. Some persons suggest that you might even visualize yourself walking up to the line after the previous point. And then the mental practice should take you through the entire execution of the serve, including the picturing of the flight of the ball as it leaves your racket.
Keep the mental practice sessions fairly short, perhaps no more than five minutes, but have the sessions often. An excellent time to inject short mental practice sessions is while you are reading a description of a tennis skill. Stop your reading frequently, visualize the skill being discussed, and then return to the reading.
Utilize mental practice immediately before, during, and after a tennis match. Flash a mental picture of every skill in your mind just before you execute it. And after each point quickly review your performance, analyze it, and form a picture of your adjustments, if any are needed. Assuming that you may never have actually thought about mental practice before, you probably have been doing this one all along, although subconsciously.
Several players I know will, after they have hit a poor shot, mimic the swing they should have used instead. What they are doing, although they may not have actually thought about it, is kinetically rehearsing the correct swing instead of remembering the poor one. And some players will verbally remind themselves throughout a match to perform certain basic fundamentals which should be second nature in their game.
Use mental practice not only for improvement in the physical skills of tennis, but also to rehearse the strategy of the game.
Often, when a player shows an uncanny ability to seemingly always make the correct response in terms of ball placement and his own court positioning, he is thought to have good “game sense”. Yet very likely what he has done is to mentally consider the possibilities in each situation and to make his choices on the basis of probability. A good baseball outfielder does this when he mentally speculates on the various possibilities of a given situation — the number of outs, the speed of the runners on base, where the ball is likely to be hit, ete — and then should the ball be hit to him, he is much more likely to throw to the proper base. Tennis provides this same opportunity in that there is a pause between each point at which time you can conceive of your strategy for the next point. For example, in receiving the serve, you might think of where you want to place your return, depending on where it is hit to you, before your opponent makes the delivery. And throughout the match you should cognitively review the relative success of your game plan, and make changes as may be necessary to increase the chances of future success.
Mental practice, then, can be utilized to program success into your tennis game. It is a preparation for physical performance, and it is vital that all players who wish to improve their game learn to incorporate this cybernetic imagery into their practice schemes. Our brains cannot really tell the difference between a real. experience and one which is vividly imagined, consequently mental rehearsal of a physical skill, properly used, can indeed program us for attaining smooth, easy, coordinated, and successful performance.
In conclusion, few people realize the potential of the mental side of tennis. Mostly, practise of the skills has been limited to the physical. Yet there is a great cybernetic “operator” in each of our brains that can program us for success or for failure. It can transcend sensory experiences, becoming automated to produce more effective overt performance. And rather than being a passive, receiving system, cybemetics is an active, producing system.
These are the points to remember:
1. Have definite, attainable goals in mind for your tennis progress. And as you approach the achievement of those goals, re-establish them at even higher (but attainable) levels.
2. Mentally picture yourself accomplishing your objectives. Try to actually generate the feeling of successful tennis.
3. Use this mental picturing to practise the actual physical skills, again trying to see and feel yourself performing those skills.
4. Concern yourself with positives about your game instead of negatives. If you cannot avoid worrying, at least worry about a positive aspect, such as whether you will be able to get seventyfive per cent of your first serves in, rather than worrying about whether you will get any in.
5. Remember that your attitude about your own ability to perform, your tennis self-image, is a product of your own mind.
The only thoughts you have about your ability are the ones you have put there yourself.
Concentration and effort, two winning characteristics, show clearly in this photo of Manolo Orantes and Ramon Munoz playing in an exhibition match at Lew Hoad’s Camp de Tenis in Spain,
Winning and Losing Tendencies in Tennis
In tennis, in sport, and in life, there are many many people who fade in and out, over-achieve and under-achieve, win some and lose some. For a thousand different reasons they never seem to be anything other than commonplace. However, at each end of the spectrum, there are those individuals who consistently come in last, and others who seem to emerge time after time at the head of the pack. It is the characters of these people on the extremes that I wish to inspect. It is this characteristic toward winning or losing that often completely dominates a player, a whole team, and in the end, the outcome of the competition.
Tennis is a sport in which being a winner is very important due to the individual nature of the game and because there are no ties or draws; only a win or a loss can result. Through tennis we will look at the phenomena of success- and failure-oriented personalities.
One of the younger players on the national junior circuit walked swiftly into the clubhouse where the other players gathered and somewhat excitedly announced that Sparky, the number-one seed, was down 4-1 in the third set, in his second-round match. Two service breaks! A couple of people stirred, and amid a general murmuring, left to survey the situation. The older players merely smiled at one another, unworried about Sparky, and somebody said something about “does it all the time”. Thirty minutes and two match points against him later, Sparky won the match 7-5 in the third set.
Bjorn Krugger had traveled the world circuit for five years and played Davis Cup for his country. (He was really the only world-class player in his country.) On the circuit he was always respected, but never feared by the perennial champions Newcombe, Laver, Rosewall and others. As often as their names appeared on the draw as eventual winners, so did Bjorn’s as a loser in the third and sometimes fourth rounds. Never further.
This was a mystery to all because Bjorn’s game was often classed as one of the soundest and best in the world, as far as raw potential went. He had even been hailed at nineteen as the heir apparent to the tennis throne. Yet, he had never quite produced what had been expected of him. Now, as many times before, he was very close to a big win (this time over the third seed) in the fourth round of Wimbledon. He was ahead two sets to one and a service break in the fourth, but as he realized that the match was literally on his racket and he need hold serve only three more times, he became the slightest bit careless, and immediately the match seemed to slip away from him.
A couple of key winners by his opponent broke his serve, and a tiebreaker he never got into evened the match at two sets apiece. A routine 6-3 fifth set against him sent each player to his familiar place — Bjorn to the sidelines, the third seed to the quarter finals. And as far as Bjorn (and most other people) could see, there was no real reason he had lost.
The outcome of both Sparky’s and Bjorn’s matches had little to do with their games. If Sparky and Bjorn would ever meet, chances are that Sparky would win if he were anywhere close to Bjorn’s caliber, or even if he were a little less of a player. But there is more involved. The point is that Sparky won his match and Bjorn lost his, not on their ability, but on the sheer power of the success or failure tendencies in their characters.
Moreover, each represents a little of what is to some degree in everyone — success and failure tendencies. Most of us have a little of both, but in any given circumstance there are but two alternatives: success and failure, and as water finds its own level, so will the winner find a way to succeed and the loser a way to fail.
Each cocky player at a tennis tournament is not necessarily a winner, nor each subdued and shy one a loser. The most certain way of telling roughly which is which, is by looking at the seeds at the top of the draw.They are the ones who have won in the past. But there is no formula for becoming success-oriented, even by studying the personalities of all the great men in the world, because such a condition is a unique mental state for that person, a way of looking at oneself with a combination of understanding, common sense, discipline, experience, and maybe even some delusion.
Even if a success prescription could be given to a player, I doubt it would do him any good because without attaining it himself, he would neither believe it nor understand how to control it. But though these qualities are unique to each individual, there are many similarities in the mental framework of all champions. Basic among these similarities are the qualities that few other people have — consistency, discipline, realism and courage.
The consistency of a success-oriented character is perhaps the easiest quality to define, for the winner has found in his mental state an approach to his matches, often not definable, which he stays with. The loser simply has not found it. Consequently time and again, we can generalize about a champion’s style and his on and off court personality. His whims or his life style may be mercurial, but rarely his performances. If they were, he wouldn’t be a consistent winner. The loser, on the other hand, is often unpredictable. One day he may produce a sparkling performance, yet the same conditions on the following day might find the fellow playing miserably. The loser will often find the answer to “what is wrong?” yet over a period of time does he know how to answer the question “what is right?” In seeking to improve, the loser is continually changing his approach and his game, rarely keeping one style long enough to weather the temporary setbacks that must come in order for it to develop the strength for consistent successful performance. The potential, the capability are there. This has already been proved through occasional excellence. But this capability and lack of consistent achievement, in spite of considerable efforts, leave him in the domain of the failure-oriented.
Another overwhelming factor in the development of successful anything — person, athlete, businessman — is discipline. The differences between the disciplined and the undisciplined are easy to spot. It takes discipline to train and to work to reach the top. It takes discipline to perform at the highest level at all times. It takes discipline to reject forms of inconsistency and to remain with and work on a temporarily faltering aspect of your game, and it takes discipline to handle the problems that come with being on top. If anyone lets down on any of these disciplines, his downfall is imminent. The fact that it is such a many-sided problem and so essential to be strong all the way around, makes it perhaps the most important and the most transgressed of all the four laws of success.
Realism must accompany success. The winning tennis player must be realistic in his confidence and about his chances in a specific match or tournament, yet a little bit of self delusion is sometimes necessary. In other words, under-confidence and overconfidence are both fatal, yet if a player is confronted by overwhelming odds against him, somewhere he must find the mettle to believe in himself — in that slim chance he has for victory, or he will never engineer a great upset. His confidence in himself must always be steadfast, yet he can at the same time have a great respect for his opponent and realize that he will have to play and plan well to win. He can never be over-confident (an example of a lack of discipline), for he may become sloppy or inattentive enough for an unexpectedly good opponent to beat him. He must worry about the task at hand and not about others in the future or past.
A loser may have these qualities, but as a whole he can be classed as unrealistic. The loser either does not have a full understanding of his ability, or he is filled with a false confidence in which he pictures himself defeating a better player without any real clue as to how to go about it. The other trap is under-confidence, when the young or lesser player has no confidence in himself and is, as the saying goes, “beaten before he goes out”. The end result is that the winner is the doer who, through intelligent situational appraisal and action, moves up through the ranks by defeating better players. The unrealistic loser, the dreamer, remains where he is due to too many thoughts and not enough deeds. Either the ability or the confidence of the loser falls short. The winner has both, and a knowledge of their dimensions.
The final winning ingredient is courage. This is something which rears its head in almost all phases of endeavor. It takes courage to practise while exhausted; it takes courage to hit the big shot; it takes courage to try to pull out a match even when it seems hopeless. Courage has many forms and they must be mastered. Fear in competition is the antithesis of courage. Fear of failure, a common fault seen often when someone “plays it safe,” is the cause of tentative play. Very few champions in any field are tentative. There are times to go for the big play and champions recognize these times and are not afraid to make
Arthur Ashe is a stable personality in all fashions of life. He never loses his cool on the courts, for he is too conscious of what it may do to his game.
the attempt. An example of this is the quarterback who goes for the long pass on fourth down in his own territory. It doesn't take courage to throw the pass, but it takes courage to suppress the fear which could cause him to play it safe when a sound, though difficult, percentage play is also available. Tentative play (caused by fear) would cause this to fail. Fear has destroyed many would-be winners. A scared competitor is said to have “no guts” and it is guts that produce winners in tight situations.
As far as conduct goes, one hears a lot about the exceptional player who rides high and cocky and is wrapped up in himself. There is not as much mention of the other kind of champion — the humble, gracious, and kind winner willing to give of himself and his talent. There are quite a few of the latter and it seems that the very top, the circle of the great and neargreat, is dominated by the better type of individual, perhaps because his excellence is so obvious that he doesn’t have to wave it around like a banner. These two types of characters, the cocky and the humble, make an interesting contrast all the way down the line because, again, there is a little of both in everyone.
When we watch any tennis match, it soon becomes evident as to who’s winning and who's losing, who’s angry and who isn’t, who’s cocky and who’s tentative. Behind these assumed roles taken on during the duration of a contest, are definite plans and plays. A winner may often become curt or unfriendly, disregarding or belittling his opponent either mockingly or rudely in order to intimidate him. One player can become so dominant, that the other seems no more than a ball machine. This is called court control. A less severe form of complete court control is a down-to-business attitude. It is very effective. A friend of mine uses this tactic. He is well known as one of the nicest guys anywhere — off court only. And he wins.
On the other hand, the loser often becomes a whiner. By loser I mean a loser by character, not of one particular match. Winners do lose and may become angry or upset, but in doing so they rarely whine and groan. A loser often moans about the way he is playing, and usually the more people watching, the more he moans. The reason for this is simple. The winner is probably an established player, whose reputation is known to the people on the sidelines and his acceptance as a good player is not really in jeopardy. A lesser player lacks this security. He has not already proved himself and must do so on the court. If he is playing poorly or even adequately, but losing, he must find another way of letting the onlookers know that he is a good player, and the only way to do this is by constant verbal reminders to all and sundry that he does not usually play this badly.
Details and variations of the above mentioned traits arising in head-to-head encounters are more interesting than general truths could hope to be. There are outside factors which offset these characteristics, such as importance of the match or task, and who the opponent may be. There are as many variables as players, and all react differently at different times under different conditions. No two performances are exactly alike; there is no constant. We have been talking about tendencies and characteristics which will in general produce similar results. The stronger the tendency, the more constant the performance. (Thus the difference between flash-in-the-pan champions and enduring champion.) Yet, what happens when like meets like? Why are there upsets? Why does a good player have an occasional nemesis? These one-on-one situations provide the flavor for the game — and are hell on theories.
In top-flight tennis more than in any other sport, the top players emerge from the pack and play each other week after week. In this category there are predominantly winners only — the field is often one of champions. Yet when the final two players emerge in the finals, it’s almost always two of a group of three or four. Rod Laver and Ken Rosewall have been on the top of the tennis world for many years. Rosewall seems to have simply achieved a higher level of proficiency than his compatriots. No one will deny that the “Little Master” has the deadliest, most controlled groundstrokes in the game. And on a technical basis, control is all-important. Yet in spite of a weaker serve than many, no one seems to be able to play as well, for as long and as often as Rosewall. He has applied the mental discipline and confidence to make his game win.
Rod Laver is a different story. Many players go on court confident against him, or as confident as is possible when playing a world champion. More often than not, they lose. Why? First of all, not to be discounted is his ability to hit great winners. He has to be one of the all-time shotmakers in the game. But he makes quite a number of errors which rarely seem to hurt him.
These errors and some deficiencies in his game (which he obviously more than makes up for) nurture this confidence in his opponents. Indeed, he is often down two sets to love, or one, before winning. In his first Grand Slam in 1962, he was down match point to Marty Mulligan at the Frency before winning, and in 1969 in his second achievement, Premjit Lall had him down two sets to love in one tournament before Laver emerged victorious. Many players have theories about him. One that abounds is that Laver believes that he is the best and that he will, without question, win any given match. I translate that as a lack of fear. This is the reason I think he falls behind so often — because it does not worry him to be behind. He then wins when he has to.
What happens when winners meet winners or, for that matter, losers meet losers? For established champions such as Rosewall and Laver, victory depends on the players’ game. They are too much in control of their minds to be psyched out. But lesser players have interesting meetings with each other because so much depends on mental dominance. No better example can be given than that of three international players, each of whom was at the top in his country. All were young rising players, all had beaten very highly ranked world-class players in the past year, and two of them, Steve and Tom, as I shall call them, had played doubles for a few years and had met with a fair amount of success. Tom had always had a very high regard for
Steve and through their partnership it became ever greater. Then Tom hit a winning streak and his record soon became superior to Steve's, yet the fear of playing him, which was bom from this respect, caused Tom to lose convincingly to
Steve each time the two met. It takes an immense amount of work for a player to overcome this mental dominance. On the other hand, Tom recently had a five-toumament winning streak
(halted by Steve) during which he defeated a third player, Fred, in the first tournament 6-3, 7-6. It was a fairly close match. Since then both have played Fred, who is one of the fine young players of today, four more times, winnning about ten games total in the whole four matches. Two of Tom’s wins were crushing defeats for Fred. Both of these results between Steve and Tom, and Fred and Tom are due to success and failure orientation between specific players, with one player, Tom, playing two roles — winner and loser. Just for interest’s sake, Fred,
Clint Eastwood jumps to return a shot during the Invitational Celebrity
Tournament at The Beach & Tennis Club in Pebble Beach, California.
during the time of his five losses to Tom, had beaten a number of world-class players himself, including Steve.
Finally, on the other end of the spectrum, is the interesting phenomenon of the failure-oriented match in which both players appear to be continually offering victory to the other. The most common way this can happen is when players lose their serve time after time, or make repeated errors. Whatever the case, these matches rarely involve a champion. If they do, the champion will almost always win, because one of the definitions of a good player is that he wins when playing badly. And the cause of this type of match is something that I mentioned that
Laver lacks — fear. It is this fear which produces the tentative play so obvious in bad matches. And in a loser vs. loser, a fear:
vs. fear match, it is usually he who takes courage first who wins.
I have tried to examine the mental forces behind winning and losing — exactly how much importance outlook, mental condition, orientation or tendency toward either success or failure play in one match, or in the whole career of a single player.
The importance of these mental forces is great. It can be seen from match to match, from player to player, in behavior, in personality, and, most of all, in results. The variations of the success-failure theme are limitless, but one clear split remains, and that is the one between success and failure, between winning and losing. In tennis, all other things being equal, it is the success-oriented person who will emerge victorious.
“What a woeful performance, I just couldn’t hit the ball in.” “I'm getting worse and worse — no control over my shots, no confidence in my game at all.” Comments such as these are endemic wherever tennis players meet, for few of us are ever completely satisfied with the way we play. There are degrees of satisfaction, however, and sometimes we are downright disgusted at our continued poor form. Why is it, then, that we are capable, on occasions, of playing so far below our normal standard?
Fatigue could be one explanation. Lack of sleep, too much physical exercise, or over-indulgence in wine, women and song are likely to play havoc with the tennis performance of the best of us. Injury, too, is often responsible for a marked decline in form even if it is relatively minor in character. The niggling pain of a strained leg muscle, the annoyance of a sore foot, or the discomfort of a blistered hand, are all capable of causing a marked detriment in our normal game. Intermittent practice could be seen as a further cause of poor performance, due to a lessening of actual skill. Without the benefit of regular practice a player often loses his ability to control the ball as he would like, his timing and coordination suffer and his tennis playing skill declines.
The factors touched on above are all physical in origin. However, what can we say about the player who, for no apparent reason, suddenly loses the ability to play up to his normal form? He is quite fit physically, has been practising hard, and is resting and alert, yet seemingly is no longer able to play reasonable tennis at all. Players who a few weeks ago were unable to make him raise a sweat now defeat him easily and other opponents whom he once pushed hard now find him an easy target. Has such a player suddenly lost his skill, have the shots he once had, deserted him? When asked about his slump, the unhappy player will often blame staleness, loss of interest in tennis, loss of his “killer” instinct, etc. All these reasons could be classified as “mental”, as distinct from the physical factors mentioned earlier, and it is upon these psychological aspects of tennis performance that I wish to concentrate in this chapter. More specifically, I wish to advance the proposition that loss of tennis form due to psychological factors can be interpreted within a perceptual frame of reference, an understanding of which should enable the player to lift himself from his slump and restore his game to its normal level.
Perceptual psychology has been summarized by Combs, Avila and Purkey, (1972) when they state that:
“', . perceptual psychology takes the position that all behavior is the function of the perceptions existing for an individual at the moment of his behaving, especially those perceptions he has of himself and of the world in which he is operating. Each of us does at every moment what seems appropriate at that instant. When the nature of perceptions is understood, even the weirdest behavior becomes comprehensible.”
Obviously this statement expresses a subjective view of reality. We see things in a particular way, accept this as the way things really are, and act in accordance with this view. Thus a person’s actions at a particular point in time are a function of all those perceptions which exist for him at that time. Perceptions, of course, used in this sense signify “meanings”, the “peculiar significance of an event for the person experiencing it.” Therefore, a person behaves in a certain way because this makes sense for him in the light of his current situation.
For example, one player is being badly beaten by another whom he considers inferior in ability, and it looks as though the better player is not going to have much chance of pulling the game out of the fire. It would be a severe blow to his self-concept to perceive himself as being beaten by a player he regards as inferior, therefore he changes his perception of the match so that it no longer seems important to win and he can explain away his defeat afterwards by saying he was not feeling well or just couldn’t get interested.
How can one change this perception in order to produce be- 62 havior more likely to result in improved performance? One way is to shift focus completely. Instead of seeing the match as a whole, concentrate on one point at a time. Instead of thinking:
“Tm down 1-4 and have little hope of winning this set,” think: “There’s nothing I can do about past points, and future points haven't arrived yet, but I can enjoy this point. I'll just concentrate on enjoying myself for this one point. I'll watch the ball closely, stroke it smoothly and feel the satisfaction of moving around the court with a definite purpose in mind. This is my goal — to play this point well without thought to anything else.” By narrowing perception in this way, much of the psychological strain is lifted. The despair of facing a big deficit tends to be forgotten and the threat to self is replaced by a single minded concentration on a sub-goal which is relatively easy to attain. It seems too easy, doesn’t it, and, of course, it may not always work but I can draw on my own experience as an indication that it does often produce miraculous changes. Some years ago I played a match in Sydney representing my club. I had won the first set comfortably, but my opponent swept through the next set and led 5-1, 40-15 on his own service in the following set.
As he got better and I got worse, I was busy thinking of all the reasons I could give for my impending defeat. None of these included the one that he may have been playing better than me. No, this would be too much for my self-concept to bear. However, at the above stage where my opponent needed only one point for victory I thought: “What an idiot I'm being. Here I am, getting myself all frustrated and uptight in a situation in which I have voluntarily placed myself. ’m supposed to be playing tennis for the enjoyment and exercise it brings. It’s a beautiful day today and I feel pretty good, so I'll get some pleasure out of this next shot. I'll play it smooth and easy, thinking of nothing else.” On the next two points I did just that, feeling that if my opponent intercepted the shot and hit a winner, good luck to him. All I was concerned with was moving freely round the court and enjoying my playing of the point. As I changed my perception in this way, the tension flowed out of me and I played two beautiful relaxed and well-timed strokes.
With the score at deuce, my opponent double faulted and then hit an easy shot into the net. From this point he became tense and anxious, perceiving his easy win as becoming less and less likely and thinking what people would say about him letting the
John Newcombe is the personification of an athlete transmuting his entire self into a champion’s flash and style. He is truly at his best when the competition is strongest.
match slip away. Conversely, I stayed loose and relaxed, setting up my series of sub-goals, one point at a time, and allowing no thought as to anything beyond this. Finally I won 9-7 and learnt a lesson I have practised many times since.
As I write about this experience, I am reminded of an example quoted by Kennedy (1965) in his book Relax and Live. He was talking about an author who stopped writing, unable to face the task of churning out a certain number of pages per day. When this person changed her perception and decided to write just one page and then leave it for the day, her writing facility retumed. This sub-goal was easily realizable and very soon she was saying: “Well, I’ve finished one page, perhaps Ill do one more before I stop,” and so on.
This particular example of changed perception leading to changed behavior can be paralleled by many situations within a tennis match. When one is warming-up before the game begins, one normally perceives this time as an opportunity to loosen-up one’s muscles, get one’s shots flowing, etc., but it can be much more. A change in perception enables one to see this warm-up as a time to plot strategy and such a change leads to different behavior being practised. For example, one plays some short shots to see if one’s opponent hits the ball and continues in to the net for volleying practice or whether he then retreats to the baseline, thus indicating his liking, or otherwise, for the net. One mixes in slices, top-spin bouncers, lobs, drop-shots, and shots played at different speeds and angles in order to see how one’s opponent handles them and, on the basis of this, decides on one’s opening strategy.
Let us return to the problem of the out-of-form player I referred to earlier, the one who is being beaten by an inferior player. One change of perception I have suggested is away from the global concept of self and the match as a whole, to the micro concept of one point at a time. Another beneficial change might involve the type of game being played. If the player is being beaten playing his normal game, a variation is indicated. Yet if he persists in thinking that he is superior and can win doing what he has always done, he is likely to be disappointed. A change in perception is required along the following lines. In today’s situation John X is playing well and I am playing badly. What can I do to alter this pattern? Although it will be painful for me, I must give up playing my normal game because it is losing. Instead, I must focus my perception on the game of John X, my opponent. What shots is he missing? How must I change my game to give him more of these? If this means giving up some of my favorite shots and playing a sort of game
I don’t like, it is worth while in terms of its possible effects on reversing the trend of this game. Again, this change in behavior cannot take place until it has been preceded by a change in perception.
The same thing is true of the player who gets himself more and more upset through his errors. Every time he makes an error he blames himself for it and thus becomes increasingly tense and anxious. His perception here is that every point he loses is due to his own poor play. But surely this is rather unreasonable. Some credit must go to his opponent for putting him in a situation where he is likely to make errors. If he can change his perception so that he sees his opponent as being responsible for winning points rather than he himself losing them, his behavior will change in that he will probably become more relaxed and less anxious. An attitude of concentration upon doing as well as possible and giving full credit to the opponent for his good play replaces that of soul-destroying castigation of oneself for one’s errors. Nowhere is such a change more immediately noticeable than when one tries to hit passing shots against a net player. The net player’s greatest advantage is the pressure he exerts upon the baseliner to look up before he hits, a procedure almost guaranteed to produce error. If the player endeavoring to hit the passing shot perceives it as necessary to look up to ascertain his opponent’s position at the net before he strokes the ball, and makes an error, he blames himself trenchantly. After this happens a number of times he perceives himself as unable to beat a net rusher. Yet, if he changed his perception the whole pattern of his play would change. For example, he could argue that he really knows where the net man will be, for the good player follows in behind the line of his approach shot. And if his opponent is not a good player, he probably doesn’t have much to worry about anyway. Once he perceives that it is unnecessary to look up to check on the net man’s position, he can decide where he is going to hit the ball and then concentrate on playing his shot as well as possible. If the net player cuts it off and hits a winner, that is too bad, but is not nearly as upsetting as having given the point away with an error.
The whole concept of what is meant by exerting pressure during a tennis match is also a matter of perception. If one asked most players what they meant when they said they put pressure on an opponent, they would probably answer in terms of hitting the ball hard and storming the net. To the man who doesn’t play well at the net and who is uncomfortable in that position, this is a rather discouraging view of “exerting pressure”, for it seems to preclude the possibility that he will ever be able to effect this most desirable exercise. But there are other ways of perceiving the situation, for there are many ways of putting pressure on an opponent which are just as difficult for him, and much safer for you. For example, when you have a clear lead in a set and an error will cost your opponent an important point, you place him under great strain by simply keeping the ball in play, swinging it around the court to keep him moving but always giving him the chance to err while you leave yourself with a wide margin for error. By varying your speed, direction and spin, always within a safe margin, you place considerable pressure upon your opponent because he knows an error will be costly and you are obviously not going to let him off the hook by making mistakes yourself.
Pressure, too, can be perceived as a matter of playing to the score, for not all points in a game, or a set, or a match are of the same value. The player who can perceive these vital points and exert more effort to win them is actually exposing his opponent to considerable pressure. To illustrate, in any game winning the first point is important because of the psychological lift one gets from a good start, but it is the third and fifth points which are really vital. If you lead 30-0, winning the third point for 40-0 will normally give you the game. At 15-15, this point gives you the edge while, if you are down 0-30, winning it keeps you in the game. The fifth point, if you work out the possibilities, is similarly crucial. Within a set, the seventh game is vital, giving you the set at 6-1, a commanding lead for 5-2, the edge at 4-3, or at least keeping you in the game at 3-4.
Other important games are the fourth and the ninth, and extra effort should be expended at these times.
It does seem clear, from illustrations such as these, that the way one plays a tennis match will be greatly influenced by one’s perception of the situation, and whether one is able to change such perceptions to adapt to changing conditions.
In one way, this approach through changed perception relates to Frankl’s logotherapy which was, of course, evolved in a very different context. Frankl has argued that, to survive, a person needs a purpose in life. If he cannot accept a ready-made purpose, then he must invent a meaning for his life and the logotherapy model would help here by showing such a person how he might turn life’s everyday events into challenges to be faced.
One could also perceive a tennis match in such terms, either on a macrolevel of the match as a whole, or on the microlevel of one point at a time. If one’s present poor form is a result of a “couldn’t-care-less” attitude to the game, by altering this perception to one of seeing the challenge generated, one creates a more purposeful attitude and changed behavior. Here is a task, winning a match, or enjoying the experience of playing a game, or any other way one likes to phrase it, and the successful meeting of this challenge will make one’s life more meaningful through the sense of purpose thus engendered. This might sound far-fatched but, again based on personal experience, I know that it can work.
Probably, many of the points I have made in this chapter have occurred to readers before. What I have endeavoured to do is to draw them together within the framework of perceptual psychology, indicating that if one is able to deliberately alter the way one perceives the activity of playing tennis matches, one can, to a large extent, control one’s behavior and by so doing improve one’s chances of success as a tennis player.
Choking up, clutching, freezing, clutched-up or simply “the choke” is that sickening experience that occurs when a player gets so tense that his basic strokes disintegrate, his coordination and timing are terrible, and his mental and physical abilities deteriorate to the point where he ends up losing to an opponent of substantially inferior ability. This miserable state of affairs is something that has been experienced in one form or another by nearly every serious tennis player. The ability to avoid this situation, or overcome it once it has begun, might be the difference between a successful competitor and a mediocre one, hence, a consideration of the most common factors involved and some techniques for meeting these, will be helpful for those who want to improve their game.
The term “choke” may derive from the fact that under conditions of high tension, one’s pharynx becomes extremely dry as the salivary and mucus-secreting glands are inhibited, and the ensuing absence of lubrication, together with heightened tension of the throat muscles, makes it nearly impossible to swallow — hence a choking sensation is experienced. Moreover, under conditions of high arousal, sensations of indigestion, nausea and imminent regurgitation often occur, lending further support to the appropriateness of the colloquialism “choking up”, used to describe blocked or inhibited performance under conditions of stress.
The most important questions to be answered for the serious player regarding the choke are: (1) what are the environmental and psychological conditions that precipitate this phenomenon, and (2) what steps can be taken to prevent it or overcome it once it has occurred?
Conditions that Cause the Choke
The choke, which is a part of every serious player's experience, is different from similar symptoms that can occur due to lack of concentration, physical fatigue, or overconfidence. While separate and distinguishable from these, there is, nevertheless, an inter-relationship with them and, as we shall see, it is impossible to understand or intelligently discuss the choke without understanding the optimal conditions of psychological pre-paredness for a match.
One way of understanding what happens when too much tension interferes with one’s ability, is to examine the general relationship between performance on different tasks and levels of emotion expressed through physiological arousal. Psychologists have long known that there is a relationship that results when performance on a given task is plotted against increasing levels of arousal. A typical graph of the relationship is shown in Figure 1-A where arousal increases linearly over time, while performance reaches an asymptote and then decreases as higher levels of arousal are obtained.
Low _ Extremely Low Extremely High High Arousal Arousal a ap 70
It has also been shown that different tasks are associated with very different levels of arousal; generally, the finer the degree of motor coordination required, the lower the optimal level of arousal. In the example shown in Figure 1-B, a high level of arousal would be ill-suited for achieving optimal performance in typewriting, although it might be suited to treadmill running. Obviously, various athletic endeavors can also be thus portrayed, and sports such as tennis and golf would fall to the left on the baseline, while football, weightlifting and sports requiring more gross muscular effort, would be to the right. Thus, a Dick Butkus or Tom “Mad Dog” Curtis may be able to play a competent — or even a superior — game of football while in a virtual rage much of the time. However, there are no top tournament tennis players who can compete successfully while in a state of extremely high emotional excitement. In fact, the opposite is true; the outstanding players are those who “keep their cool” and the Lavers and Rosewalls currently dominate the game. In golf, persons with the temperament of a Sam Snead or a Jack Nicklaus become the outstanding masters of the art. At times, more histrionic characters may briefly dominate — a Lee Trevino or an Ilie Nastase — often, in fact, by unnerving, distracting or otherwise causing their opponents to lose their concentration; but in the history of these sports, these kinds of men have never long dominated the game the way that less colorful but more persevering professionals have.
For most players the combination of initially high arousal, together with increased social pressures, playing in a strange environment, or meeting an unexpected style of play — all or any of these conditions can result in the frustrating symptoms of choke. Often a player who is entering tournament competition for the first time will experience relatively frequent bouts of choke in his first year of play. The level of arousal that was previously optimal for him may routinely be arrived at shortly before the match, but, with the added pressures of serious competition, meeting a greater variety of styles of play, and perhaps, the added stress of a few spectators, this level is increased to a point where muscular coordination and timing are significantly impaired. In addition to these added strains, a novice tournament player may miss the usual anxiety-reducing activities of casual talk with friends and the familiar environment of his home club or courts. The effects of this extra anxiety
Ken Rosewall, since he stands only 5°7” and weighs only 145 pounds, was often told he was too small for big-time tennis, but he dedicated himself as an aspiring amateur to become the Australian champion, an intensity that now has developed into his being one of the great players of all time.
can be extremely debilitating and destroy not only your game during an important match but, even more important, the choke experience can make inroads into your self confidence and lead to a vicious repeating cycle of lowered confidence and inferior playing ability. There are undoubtedly a large number of good players who have never conquered the tournament “jitters’ and who become so frustrated with their inferior play in tournaments that they conclude that they are incapable of this kind of competition, and return to the comfort of less demanding and less stressful matches. This may be best for some, but, on the other hand, great satisfactions can be obtained from the more formalized competition play of tournaments and the only way to overcome the initial problems of choke is to continue to participate in these situations, analyze the specific factors that cause you to become tense (and those that help you to relax and counteract this trend) until adaptation to the tournament conditions occurs.
General Techniques for Overcoming the Choke
For the player who is interested in learning to avoid or overcome the problems of choke when entering new levels or areas of competition, two basic strategies are available.
The first can be described as a kind of “crash program” and is often followed by younger players entering into serious competition for the first time. The strategy here is simply to enter a great number and great variety of tournaments as rapidly as the schedule allows. Following this procedure most players will become desensitized to the stress of play in new surroundings in four to six months. At first the circuit may seem like a nightmare with strange environments, new people and the inevitable defeats repeating themselves over and over. But in a short while, other players become familiar, the courts of play begin to have recognizable similarities and, most important of all, different styles of play are faced repeatedly and adjustment to the major styles is begun. After playing against a variety of styles and under diverse conditions, there simply are no really novel conditions that can be encountered. The player finds that he is mentally as well as physically “tournament tough.”
While this strategy may work well for younger players, they do run the risk of becoming over-saturated with the constant competition, and experience a subsequent loss of the fine edge that is necessary for top performance. The older player who wishes to enter new levels of competition is even more likely to tire of the rapid pace and constant strain of successive tournaments and might do well to consider the second strategy.
The second major method for adjusting to the stress of entering new levels of competition is to utilize a method of successive approximations. Here, the player should first attempt to determine which factors are most likely to make him “freeze up” in a match. Then he should place himself in situations (either within or out of formal toumaments) in which he will be exposed to gradually increasing amounts of the troublesome ingredients of each situation.
For example, let’s say that spectators are especially troublesome to John Smith and cause him to play about 20% below par. John can set up situations where he will play before a handful of people and gradually work up to as large a group as he is ever likely to perform before. The first steps can be engineered by intentionally choosing a certain court or a certain time of day for his practice matches. At most clubs and public facilities it is a simple matter to pick a time and location which will virtually guarantee that a few spectators will be present.
Then the situation can be made slightly more difficult by playing in somewhat more popular locales, or in toumaments with a larger draw.
Under these conditions of gradually increasing exposure to the relevant stresses, the player will find that a constant low level of tension may accompany the progression up the ladder of difficult situations. If, at some point, he is suddenly flooded with excessive anxiety and a corresponding deterioration of play, he should retreat temporarily to a slightly less stressful set of conditions, wait until he is thoroughly adjusted to those conditions and then proceed to the next level of difficulty.
This same method can be applied to whatever factors are most bothersome to the player — whether it be slow play, different court surfaces, or new surroundings. The player, at his own pace, can choose the next grade of difficulty and play under those conditions until adaptation results.
These general approaches to overcoming anxiety in novel situations are basically long-term strategies to be applied over one or several seasons of play. At another level, there are general strategies that can be applied in an individual tournament or even in a single match.
One of the things to avoid when entering a situation where you think there is a chance of choking is a long period of solitude just before an important match. While you may have heard of certain pros “psyching themselves up” by intense solitary concentration before a match, this is not likely to work for the novice. Instead, if you must wait alone for an hour or two before a match, you will begin to fret and worry and build up tension which can only be destructive when you get on the court. All the other players (even ones you have defeated before) look vastly superior out there on the courts; you'll look at a crowd of spectator-players and imagine they will all be critically watching you; and your every ache and pain and questionable stroke will be etched vividly in your mind. By the time you get on the court, you may feel you are encased in a block of ice.
If this happens to you, there are at least two things you can do to help prevent it. You can mix socially with the other players, or, if this isn’t easy or convenient, bring a friend or two with you to the match. The mere necessity of making conversation and roaming the grounds with company will help distract you and keep you from dwelling on the imagined disasters in store for you.
A second preventative measure is to avoid spending a lot of time waiting for a match at the tournament site. Usually a telephone call to the tournament headquarters will tell you if your match will go on when scheduled, or if there will be a delay, and you can then arrive a comfortable ten or fifteen minutes before you go on. If you are in between matches, check with the tournament chairman and be sure he agrees to your re-appearing in an hour for your next match, and then take a Coke break or go lie down for an hour and rest.
If you get on the court and feel a rising tide of tension, there are still several things you can do. Some people, after clutching up and blowing a couple of easy put-aways, can take a few deep breaths, tell themselves “it doesn’t mean that much” and “stop trying so hard” and work themselves out of it. The ensuing relaxation can have an immediate positive effect. Others may work to get themselves slightly physically fatigued; to some extent there is a basic incompatibility between high tension and the muscular relaxation of physical fatigue. I know one person who will do calisthenics and run vigorously after loose balls at the outset of a match just to reduce the level of muscle tension and anxiety.
Occasionally during a match a crisis situation will develop that can lead to a choke reaction even when normal play has preceded it. Currently this is most likely to occur during the tie-breaker used in many tournaments. Most of the techniques mentioned above cannot be applied in this context. One approach that can be used is this gambit that I learned from my partner as we played the mixed doubles semi-finals of the 1970
Denver Starter Tournament. We were in the third set and had fallen behind 4-2 in a nine point tie-breaker. My partner, Mona, was fairly new at tennis but an experienced competitor in other sports. The crucial seventh, eighth and ninth points were hers to serve. On the first point she drove in a clean winner on her first serve; on the second point she missed the first serve but hit a hard second serve that was returned as an easy set-up to me, and on the third point the first serve was again blasted in for a clean winner to give us the tie-breaker and the match. I tumed around in complete amazement and asked her where in blazes she had found the nerve to do that. She coolly told me that she simply figured that there was no way we were going to win three points in a row if she let tension rule and “babied” her serves in. So, assuming the match was lost if she succumbed to the natural tendency to tighten up and play to avoid the double fault, she turned around and did exactly the opposite.
Naturally, this approach is not going to work every time; but if you play “choked”, you very seldom have a chance of winning. If you are way down in a match — a 4-2 tie-breaker or a
5-2 set score against you — you might as well figure all is lost unless you go for broke. You might as well try anything that gives you even a slim chance of winning the match.
When a player is already highly aroused by the existing situation, any slightly unexpected or discomfitting experience can push him over the top of that inverted “U” performance curve.
Here are some of the more common ones.
Slow Play. One of the most common causes, especially in young and eager players, is the encounter with a slow and methodical opponent. Often it is not just slow play per se, but also unusually long intervals between points and between games can drive an eager competitor into a choke reaction. Every individual who wants to be successful at this game must learn to cope with this problem. One thing that can facilitate this adjustment enormously is to set up a situation where this style of play is encountered, and then try to slow down your own pace of play to match that of your opponent in between points, reminding yourself that these intervals are totally irrelevant to the outcome of the match. However, once a point is begun, you must mentally pick yourself up to an optimal level of concentration and pace. In other words, your petty impatience with the overall pace of the match has to be differentiated from the playing of an individual point; the slowness of play must not be allowed to blunt your competitive edge once the point is under way.
If one can achieve a positive experience or two — meaning a well-earned win against a deserving opponent — using this technique, the chances are it can be recalled and used again when slow play is encountered in more trying circumstances.
New Courts. Another common contributing factor to choking is the sudden disintegration of one’s game that occurs when a player enters competition on a different playing surface and in new surroundings. The first thing noticed may be less efficient ground strokes, difficulty in judging the speed of the ball, or problems in estimating the depth of a lob. The first thing to note is that these are very real problems, not just a matter of temporary excitement or your psychological orientation. Less experienced players have a tendency to underestimate or ignore these problems during warm-up, figuring they will iron themselves out as the match progresses. In actual fact, they may well get worse; the lob continues to fly long and the forehand is repeatedly contacted late; then, as you fall behind, tension builds, hasty and varied corrections are attempted until even more basic strokes are lost and your game is a shambles.
What went wrong? The problem started with an underestimation of the importance of familiarity with the courts of play. Even experienced tournament players appear to slight this factor, ignoring or discounting the fact that there are major differences in background, visual characteristics, wind currents and other subtle factors from one set of courts to another. We seldom witness players working out on the chosen courts a day or two in advance of a tournament. But the experienced player will keenly observe every nuance of difference in the play of the ball during warmup, and work diligently to diagnose any problems and make corrections.
The mistake that starts a less experienced player on the way to chokesville is the naive belief that everything will straighten itself out as play progresses. This illusion and the contrasting disillusionment that soon follows, combine to provide the unsettling psychological shock that results in the final “coming apart” of his game.
Spectators. One of the most frequently encountered “freezefactors” is the presence of spectators. Not only does their appearance lead to a self-conscious tightening up by players who are not familiar with playing in front of observers, but there are additional distracting and complicating factors that usually accompany the presence of spectators. Those who are watching a match are never just anonymous people to the player on the court. Spectators invariably contribute at least one of these influences: (a) they are almost always aficionados and therefore critics of the game and, (b) they may be friends and fellow competitors or, alternatively, representatives and friends of your opponent, and
(c) spectators nearly always provide a set of non-personal distracting influences that can affect your game.
For some players the greatest tension is induced by having friends or fellow players observing. This may be especially true if one has recently joined a club and is eager to impress his new acquaintances. This is a simple case where “trying too hard” can tempt a player to hit his serve a little harder than usual, bringing his 40% first-serve rate down to 20% and increasing his double faults drastically. It can lead to him trying to hit flashy cross-court backhand winners when he doesn’t really have the shot mastered. After a game or two played in this manner, it may develop that the player cannot return to his basic strokes and game, and the total cost of the “trying to impress” choke takes its toll.
A somewhat more complex episode occurs when one journeys to another setting for an inter-city or inter-club match of some kind. In this context the observers may be biased in an overt and vocal manner. The first time or two it occurs, hearing applause only for your opponent’s good shots can be an unnerving experience. Occasionally, the partisanship may go well beyond one-sided applause and approval and involve ill-mannered and derisive cheering when you muff an easy shot. Although rare, this writer has witnessed such events more than once during inter-city matches and the effect has usually been devastating on the quality of the visitors’ play.
Inevitably there will be some conversation and some movement among the spectators and the novice in this situation may be easily thrown off his game if he allows himself to be distracted by this activity. He may begin to catch parts of a sentence of conversation here and there and try to make sense out of them, or he may simply become generally distracted from his game by an over-awareness of the spectators’ presence.
What is the cure for all these difficulties that spectators can present to the inexperienced competitor? As discussed earlier in this chapter, a player can attempt to desensitize himself to these circumstances, or he can build up resistance to it via the method of successive approximations. But prior to the application of either of these general principles, a player needs some device to face the immediate situation the first time or two he comes up against the specter of the spectators.
Unlike the other problems we have described, there is almost no recourse to direct action against this problem. If the situation is really desperate, an appeal to the tournament chairman (or his equivalent) might result in a request from him to the crowd to be quieter or perhaps even a change of court could be arranged. But these steps are unlikely to be taken and then only in extreme cases. For the circumstances more commonly encountered, the only recourse is to attempt to shut out the distraction of the crowd, ignore them as completely as possible, and concentrate entirely on the match. If your focus of attention is fully on the ball at all times of actual play, the crowd noises at these times will actually seem to disappear and will cease to be a factor detracting from your play.
Fred Stolle: A very shrewd player who takes every advantage opponent’s weakness.
It is important to remember that the choke you experience is not a unique and unsolvable deficiency in your psychological approach to the game. It is a product of excessive tension and arousal that can be corrected by taking the appropriate steps. As it is with every other aspect of the game, those who successfully work through this obstacle will enjoy greater success and satisfaction from the game of tennis.
Emotionalized Tennis: Psyched Up or Psyched Out?
The “Father of Psychoanalysis,” Dr. Sigmund Freud, very wisely suggested to prospective scientists that they should only define the phenomena being studied after long hours of study, observation, classification and evaluation. Therefore, I will first define the terms in question. Emotionalized tennis refers to emotion that is attached to the playing of the sport. Emotion in this context may be defined in these terms: a patterned bodily reaction of either destruction, reproduction, incorporation, orientation, protection, deprivation, rejection, or exploration, or some combination of these, which is brought about by a stimulus. This definition is for all purposes acceptable because we will discuss here the emotionalized tennis of the individuals who play the sport — each one reacting differently in his particular court situation.
There is much to be said about the relationship of emotion and the playing of tennis. Men and women (this admission will please women libbers, notably B.J.K.) are essentially goal-oriented in playing the game. Players seek goals, which range from pleasure of competition to complete annihilation of an opponent (unless they turn professional when the goals then change to money). The player strives in every way possible to attain his goals. For this reason, psychological understanding of various behavioral patterns has indeed become important in athletic competition. These behavioral patterns are in themselves an entirely different subject and cannot be adequately covered in this chapter. The emotionalized area of tennis, however, is one where we can see how personal involvement in the sport fills some need, which in turn provides the player with emotional outlets, or perhaps better yet, a safety valve. Emotions can never be excluded from tennis — the player feels satisfaction and excitement with a win, or sadness and discouragement with a loss. Emotions are tied very closely to success and failure in athletic competition. For example, look at today’s best tennis players and notice how each will exhibit various emotionalized responses to his game. Newspapers and other media are quick to capitalize upon the emotionalized reactions of these players to entertain their audiences. One only needs to watch television, or look in the newspapers or magazines to see Billie Jean King hitting her forehead or yelling women’s lib statements; Ilie Nastase cussing out someone or using nasty hand signs; Stan Smith, ever so cool, talking to himself and pushing back his hair; or sensational Chris Evert glaring at a placement she missed; to see the individual expressions of emotions that thrill all who view them. Emotionalized tennis as seen in these examples is indeed a personal and individual reaction to the sport and its demands or expectations. The player’s reaction (emotion) will depend upon his personality, the demands of the sport, the expectations of tennis itself, and overall physical and mental abilities in playing athletics. It is thus assumed that success in any field — tennis or chemical engineering — comes only to individuals who have previously achieved mental fitness, strength in the commitment to the game itself and the physical proficiency required to play it, and finally, quick recovery from the stresses and demands of the game.
With this brief introduction to the topic, let us proceed into the heart of the problem: emotionalized tennis and how to get “psyched up” or “psyched out” in tennis. Two things must be kept in mind from the beginning of this discussion: emotions are usually aroused by external stimuli, and an emotional state is induced after an object (person or thing) has gone through the processes of sensation and perception. Sensation refers to the arousal of the sense organs, while perception refers to the meaning, organization, or association that is given to the sensation. Therefore let us initiate the cycle or process involved in getting psyched up, bearing in mind that these assumptions could very well work in reverse and cause one to get psyched out, depending upon the circumstances of the tennis match.
Let us start with the assumption that emotions are aroused by the presence of someone or something. In a singles tennis match filled with intensity and feeling on the part of both players, one (or both) of the two persons involved can very likely 84 get psyched up by the mere opportunity of playing the match and winning, or playing a new position — “#1 Singles”. One player may get psyched up just because he is playing someone whom he enjoys playing and defeating, or because his opponent is particularly displeasing, and defeating him (overwhelmingly at that) is the greatest of delights! Enough said about getting psyched up — or is it?
This is for the coach — who knows a little psychology but desires a quick refresher course on the techniques involved in psyching up his tennis players. Psyching up individuals in tennis is more often called for than psyching up the tennis team as a group of players. At the very heart of the art of psyching up is the process of suggestion. Suggestion is the process of imparting new ideas or thoughts to a mind. Suggestion can be either self- or auto-. Self-suggestion occurs when one person helps himself, while auto-suggestion involves a two-person interaction, one helping the other. Let me state emphatically: being able to suggest thoughts to others is one of the most difficult tasks assigned to anyone. The ultimate goal of suggestion is that it generate and foster an emotional lift and thereby enable the player to meet the coming stress (match play) with a balanced, almost flawless, intellectually and physically thought-out match strategy. A coach or teacher must never forget the hypnotic principle that there is a vast amount of power in the thoughts of people which creates positive or negative results. Saying “You can and will beat Ted” is a powerful suggestion if the player is provided with additional back-up thoughts of further suggestion which enable him to actually visualize and faithfully accept this psyching up and suggestion technique. Hopefully, thoughts will be translated into activity and at this point evaluative procedures may be inserted in order that the coach might see the extent of his suggestion techniques. It is wise to admit to oneself that if (and when) the suggested thoughts are accepted and eventually emotionalized within the player, strange results may occur. Behavior is aroused and kept alert by more than just emotion — motivation is another factor. Thus when players are psyched up in a wrong manner, or to a degree beyond that which is necessary for a particular person, they can become very unreliable. Emotions must be kept in line. Orderly processing in the human body can be impaired and thus the player's judgment is less reliable. One can only hope to ready one’s players in the standard of UCLA basketball coach John Wooden who psyches up, but calms his players with.a particular discipline which insulates them from the great demands of stress. One need only watch the UCLA games to see the coolness with which they handle the opposition. At this stage it should be mentioned that the teacher or coach should be consistently at his best in front of his team, because introjection plays an important role with the team members one leads. Introjection is the unconscious absorption of ideas, emotional attitudes, standards, and ideals from persons interacting with you. Tennis players will need less psyching up if the coach is seriously and firmly dedicated in his work of mentally and physically preparing his players for the very demanding sport of tennis.
Psyching out is another completely different process. Thanks to basic psychological understanding, the athlete can now reach beyond the usual motor skills required in playing tennis and delve into the process of out-thinking, out-guessing, or to use the language of the day, “psyching out the other guy”. When one psyches out an opponent, he is involved in a process which involves picking out the psychological weaknesses or flaws of the individual across the net. The ultimate goal of course is to use these suddenly discovered weaknesses to defeat the opponent mentally and thereby force physical defeat upon the victim at the same time. In order to psyche out the opponent, after the weaknesses are discovered, it is necessary to manipulate him by creating thoughts of doubt, anxiety, confusion and a basic sense of helplessness in his thinking, which ultimately contribute to his overall defeat. Unfortunately very few athletes and coaches fully comprehend the complex psyching out process. In the game of tennis where one man can only profit at the expense of the other, being able to beat your opponent (and gain the profit) both physically and mentally is crucial to one’s continued success. It is therefore of utmost importance to develop a plan of psyching out the opposition.
Developing a psyching out plan often requires the tennis player to display at times a sort of “holier than thou” attitude, but this should be only superficial, for this attitude could eventually (if taken seriously) cause the downfall of the person who is psyching out the other person. A holier than thou attitude enables the tennis player to hold the edge on the decision-
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Pancho Gonzales: There is no doubt that he is one of the most intense competitors that has ever appeared in any sport.
making process — decisions such as which side of the court he will start on, who spins for service and side, and who takes charge in the overall direction of the game. This attitude can only psyche out when the person has significant tennis ability.
The usual form psyching out should take is where the player by his ability (whether it is more or less than his opponent's ) has a needle in his opponent — a sort of acupuncture trick!
This type of needle work is not the very much frowned upon needling of an opponent, which is considered most unsportsmanlike. The acupuncture needles are placed in the opponent so as to paralyze him, not necessarily easing the pain which he suffers in the process. Each acupuncture needle is placed just so — to achieve maximum effect. First, a needle is placed on the backhand so as to render it useless — this can be achieved by observing how the opponent receives his backhand as well as the stroke he uses to return the ball — slicing, side-spin, top spin, or whatever. Catching onto the strokes of your opponent in the warm-up period is the best place to plant that first needle. If you are playing someone who refuses to bend his knees or get down low for the ball, then stick a needle in his knees — by hitting low balls to him. These needles have thus caused psyching out to become a closer reality. From here, one can go to other areas of the opponent and carefully select places for the acupuncture needles. So, be a “tennis acupuncturist” — one who psyches out but does not ease the pain of the victim or patient
(depending on whom you play).
It is now time to ask the reader a few questions. What will you be — an emotionalized tennis player who becomes psyched up, or one who has been psyched out? Are you an acupuncturist or an acupuncturee? Be the acupuncturist if you possess the qualities and fit all the requirements of the job. Remember “it is better to give than receive” and thus this old Biblical expression has yet another meaning — this time for the tennis player — “put needles in others, do not let needles be put into you.” The emotionalized tennis player is a breed in himself, and with proper control of one’s emotions and carefully supervised training from a teacher or coach, this player can become a most profit-seeking tennis acupuncturist. Good Luck!
Singles is one game, doubles is another, and mixed doubles is something else. It is a shame that amid the current tennis popularity explosion, the co-ed game has not received the recognition it deserves.
When gentlemen in white flannels began to pat the ball around the lawns of Newport, Rhode Island in the 1870's it didn’t take long for the ladies to see the possibilities for togetherness. Thus heterosexual tennis teams came into being.
The results have been phenomenal. No other organized sport can lay claim to having spawned so many romances. How often have you seen teenagers, and perhaps even elders, swarming around tennis courts daily, some hardly knowing one end of the racket from the other, drawn by the animal magnetism of a member of the opposite sex, but staying long enough to learn the game well? Mixed doubles has received little more than parenthetic reference in standard definitions of a doubles team
(both of the same sex or one of each — the latter called mixed doubles). Isn’t it time we gave recognition to the form of the game that has become so much a part of the social fabric of the nation?
“The trouble with doubles”, according to Rex Lardner in The Underhanded Serve, “is that you are playing with a partner. And this is something of an ordeal.” The fact is, it’s playing with a partner that is the great beauty of mixed doubles, if you are wise in your selection.
The subtleties of the game are multiplied in mixed doubles, because in both partner interaction and opponent manipulation, the usual individual differences are increased by sex differences.
An initial word of caution: in tournament play avoid the risk of teaming with your spouse, especially if he or she is the
4a]] DU 4ano0 pum fo aauvjsodul ay} wan puv uinav panoid &)]UaIa" “oFv sivak OE 1200 uoidupys pjsom ysnoy]Y ‘s8s.y Kqqog better player. Husband and wife toumaments should be viewed with distrust. They are a fad forced on naive tennis enthusiasts by an ambitious marriage counselor trying to boost his trade.
Even casual observation reveals that males are quietly tolerant of errors (double faults, playing in the wrong court, missing the ball, not knowing the score) made by partners other than their own mates, but may erupt like Mt. Vesuvius if a point is lost by their wives. By the same token, the lady contestants are much more likely to expose their husbands to caustic comment and fractious temperament, while showing only a sweet disposition to an unrelated partner.
Arthur Fixel, an amateur who has been around the club tournament scene a long, long time, says, “Playing in a tournament with your wife is like teaching her to drive a car, or maybe building a house. Marriages do survive, but the strain is severe.”
Generally it is recognized that you do not have to be a good singles player to excel at doubles, and that two great singles players may not make a competent doubles team. In fact, you may not even be a good doubles player but still be able to maintain fair status in mixed doubles. The team Gestalt rather than the talent of the individual is all important. The team can be greater than the sum of its two parts.
A lady of my close acquaintance whose racket sport experience was limited to a little neighborhood badminton and an occasional view of her teenage children and weatherbeaten husband playing, as she passed the tennis courts en route to the first tee, came to a mixed doubles tournament at our country club to watch her family play, and very nearly won as a participant.
Just before play was to begin, the male member of the No. 1 seeded team announced that his partner (wife) would be unable to compete as a result of having been kicked by a horse
(fox hunt). He got special permission from the tournament committee to play with a substitute partner. My acquaintance was the only person of the appropriate sex instantly available, so with borrowed shoes and racket, one too small, the other too large, she went into action.
No one mistook her for Chris Evert, but she did manage to stay out of the way, get a serve in now and then, and as the match progressed, to return balls she could not avoid, with some regularity. Her partner, once a member of the Duke University tennis team, considered the episode a challenge and ranged all over the court with devastating effect. They won their first match. In the second they were leading in a hard-fought final set and had attracted a considerable gallery, when Joe’s knee came apart, prematurely ending the competition. Their adversaries went on to win the tournament.
The consensus of opinion was expressed by Joe’s wife some days later at a social gathering, “Joe could have carried Betty if
“What were they playing?” asked an interested latecomer, which is, of course, a good question.
The foregoing illustration is not to imply that practice is unnecessary, or that basic strokes, mobility, footwork, agility and knowledge of the game are not important. A near fatal characteristic of thousands of players is that they are seldom willing to practise. Other things being equal, the person who practises will be better than the one who does not, and most of the time the more skilled players will win, but in mixed doubles particularly, there is opportunity for psychological factors to assure that other things are not equal.
George Agutter, a famed tennis instructor of the past, used to tell his pupils, “Acquire form and you can depend on your wit to teach you tactics.” That is still good advice. The first tactic in mixed doubles is to acquire and display a good female form. An attractive costume for the female will create self confidence, or at least allow her to keep her thoughts on the game. An appropriate display of anatomy can be quite a concentration breaker in a game where concentration and position are most vital. A trim ankle and a carefully turned thigh may not be as valuable as a steady backhand, but it is surely worth more than an occasional service ace or an overhead smash or two.
Ladies should wear something to keep the sun out of their eyes, and, if they have the equipment for it, the most abbreviated tennis skirt or shorts and shirt considered decent by the tournament committee, the recreation department, police or whoever.
Such attire, or lack of it, allows great freedom of movement, will distract their male opponent, infuriate their female opponent, and be unsettling to both. If, on the other hand, their natural endowments are such that they really look best in a 94
Mother Hubbard, then forget the clothes and depend more on sound drives and a good serve.
Men too need some form of eye shade, but unless their physique is centerfold material, their attire is not likely to influence the game. Suffice it to say that if one shows up in a railroad cap and jeans, he is not likely to create the image that next year’s Wimbledon champion is on hand.
Co-ed doubles are played under two sets of general conditions — as matches among friends and/or relatives, and tournament play, usually a club or city recreation activity. The former are more casual and somewhat more conversational. The latter place the contestants under more mental strain.
An above average male player can be less concerned about his partmer’s basic shots, and more concerned about his own agility and stamina. (If the man’s game is below average, he may want to pass up the beauty queens for a partner whose play is as close to Billie Jean King’s as possible.) Generally if he has a partner who will face the net, doesn’t take shelter outside the alley awaiting his serve, and will move to meet the ball when it is played to her area of the court, he is ahead of the game. If she can serve with less than two double faults in a game, add a plus.
The ladies, on the other hand, will benefit from a partner who has wide range but the courtesy not to hog shots, a combination not always easy to find. A man who hits the ball with quiet deliberation and considerable zip will be helpful. Avoid the ever present “officer” or “instructor” type who gives advice on every shot, and supplies a running commentary on what you should be doing. The only compensation is that he may raise your opponents’ blood pressure as much as he does yours, and affect their game more adversely since there are two of them. This type usually plays a lot of singles.
Partners must know each other in terms of game strengths and weaknesses as well as personality characteristics to be fully effective. Unvarnished honesty is the only policy in informing your teammate about the limitations and special skills of your game. False modesty and overestimates are both damaging.
Agree on a game plan before the action starts. Not only how to cover the court, and what to do in special situations, but the sort of attitude you want to convey to your opponents. Your
PMORIKMAND BAPTIST BiBLE INSTITUTE games can properly complement each other only when mental harmony has been attained.
Know something about your opponents. If you have had an opportunity to watch them play or even warm up, it will help. If not, talk to them, look at them closely. Form an impression as to how they play and what their temperaments are like. Does their equipment look used, their clothes played in, are they excitable, calm, garrulous...?
Attitude is very important. The safe approach is to begin by being very cordial, at least until you find out more about them.
As long as you are winning, don’t change your attitude, but if you fall behind, there are alternatives. Against a loudmouth you may become silent, or, if your opponents are silent, a lot of conversation may prove upsetting.
You and your partner may adopt different approaches by design — one being friendly, complimentary, the other, the heavy — doubting calls, showing signs of aggravation. Police teams have successfully utilized this approach in handling suspects. There is no reason why it can’t work on the tennis court, although it won’t enhance the popularity of the “black hat” partner.
Some have alleged that Pancho Gonzales’ hassles with linesmen over the years have been planned episodes to “take a blow’, or break the rhythm of an opponent. A designed disagreement with your partner could be used in the same manner.
There are many things you can do to psyche an opponent, but remember that the effects may be either positive or negative. Your opponents may lose control of their game. On the other hand, you may make them mad, increase their resolve to win, reduce fatigue, and be beaten by your own gimmick. Handle psychological warfare with care.
Frequently you will recognize when an effort is being made to psyche you. An effective countermeasure is to mimic the action. You'll be surprised at how quickly it will stop.
Students of the psychology of tennis can learn much from baseball and football. Pitchers vary the speed of their throws as well as the location they pitch to. If you are one of the many with a hard first serve (frequently a fault), softer second serve
(usually in), change occasionally. Serve the first one soft. A player set to return a fast serve will have difficulty with a blooper.
Tom Okker once said that he never believes that his opponent can hit a shot that he cannot run down and return.
In football the eye fake is a handy tool for the passer. It can be for the server. Look to the forehand and serve to the backhand. Remember too that some players can return a serve on either side with greater ease than when it is hit straight at them.
Give the idea that you are going to serve to one spot and then hit it somewhere else. Of course, this is difficult if you don’t know where it is going yourself.
Net play, too, offers great opportunity for “actors”. The fake poach is highly satisfying. Set it up by poaching a few times, then with a head and body feint toward the center line, break toward the alley. In a surprising number of cases you will have an easy shot as your opponent tries to hit through the area he thought you had vacated.
Move, especially when anyone is at the net. Taking eyes off the ball is one of the most common errors in tennis. Movement diverts attention. Besides, you make a harder target to hit.
These are a few of the techniques that require more head work than athletic ability. There are as many others as you can dream up. Of course, you cannot finesse every play, but after all, in mixed doubles it is not so much how you play the game. It’s a matter of who you play it with, how much fun you have, and what happens afterwards.
This chapter deals with why it is so hard to play tennis well. No apology is needed for this statement, since anyone who plays the game, or is in some way associated with those who do, is well aware of the tennis player’s chronic dissatisfaction with his performance. Moreover, his complaints are well founded. If one observes play at the club level and compares it either with tournament play or the idealized image in the players mind, one cannot help but notice the contrast. This holds true even for top club players. The truth is that tennis is a very difficult sport which has a way of looking deceptively simple.
Learming to play tennis well would be difficult even under the best learning conditions. In point of fact, no one goes to school to learn tennis. Even the new tennis camps for adults and for children serve more of a remedial than a teaching function. People learn to play tennis by watching others around them, and these observations are supplemented by advice, good and bad, from teachers, camp counselors, friends, relatives, and occasionally a pro. Opportunities to play or practise are almost always limited. The occasions for either may be separated by weeks, months or seasons. Those most interested in the game play as much as they can and improve. This is a rather haphazard way to learn a complex game; however, this is the tennis background of the typical “A” or “B” club player who is furiously and relentlessly determined to improve. In the absence of
N.B. As I am not a tennis “pro”, my focus in this chapter is on the psychological aspects of tennis and not the technology of stroke production. However, a background of concepts is implied. Those applied in this chapter are those of Gerard Alleyne, the head tennis pro at the River Tennis Club, Hastings-on-Hudson, New York.
more systematic training, the player also remains vulnerable to psychological weaknesses, which interfere with his game.
To properly master strokes demands that one lear a response chain with a high degree of reliability, and yet with an equally high degree of flexibility. There is no question of learning a rigid stimulus-response association. No two balls bounce in the same way or in the same location. However, very rapid corrections, mid-sequence, must be made to adjust the stroke to bad bounces or other surprises. The requirements for this kind of response system are too much for local sensory-motor reactions.
One must assume that whole strokes, or large sections of strokes, are set down in the brain as single units. On the court the eyes pick up the ball coming on the forehand side, they trigger the forehand stroke either as a whole, or in large sections. Therefore to become proficient, one must lear the strokes as smoothly as possible, and as a whole. Conscious intervention in the stroke, either to correct some small part of the stroke, or to modify it, has a disruptive effect. Once the stroke is learned the brain organizes it, and when triggered by the eyes, the brain not only produces the appropriate chain of response, it also “supervises” the response, custom tailoring it to the specific need.
However, these response chains, which constitute the strokes and movements of tennis, are often interfered with in a number of ways, each of which is a source of errors; errors due to insufficient training, errors due to the confusion of similar stroke sequences, errors due to making compulsive bad judgments, errors due to faulty visual coordination. Each of these categories of error touches upon different psychological areas. The first two are best approached from the point of view of motor skills development. The last two will be approached from the point of view of personality and inter-personal behavior.
It follows from what has been said so far that the basic requirements for learning strokes are: one, unvaried practice of strokes as a whole; two, the development of visual habits necessary for “tailoring” each stroke to the particular situation.
The first of these requirements is violated when players try to learn two related strokes at the same time, before either one is learned thoroughly. This is what many try to do when they vary a flat stroke with a sliced stroke. However similar these strokes may be, they are separate sequences. Attention to two forehand strokes dilutes the “unrelenting exercise” necessary to learn either of these strokes properly. Moreover, this creates a situation where a decision must be made as to which of the two should be used, whenever a forehand stroke is called for. For the ordinary player this kind of ambiguity contributes to the weakening of sequence chains, and the player's errors increase.
Nowhere is this such a serious problem as with the serve. Here particularly, there is a tradition of a “first” and “second” serve.
And, since the player gets two tries to serve his ball, this further reinforces the tendency to serve one way the first time and another way the second time.
Indecisiveness does not create the same kind of problem with the multiple serve as it creates with the multiple ground stroke.
One has time when serving to decide what to do. However, other problems arise. The serve is a difficult stroke to learn. In part this is because it is used less than other strokes in the course of a set. Players who rally for an hour or two, in order to practise their ground strokes, fail to do the same for their service stroke. Vagueness as to the elements which compose the serve sequence, makes it difficult for the player to practise his serve on a handball court or somewhere else by himself. For those fortunate enough to have an empty court available, taking the proverbial bucket of balls out to the court, means, most of the time, trying to hit the ball as hard as possible while keeping it within the service court, which they do not do in a match. As a consequence, players are for the most part forced to “practise” their serve in competitive situations. Learning to serve during a match is like learning to play a violin in the middle of a highway. More stimuli compete for one’s attention than one can reasonably be expected to attend to. Add to these limitations the problem of arm weariness because the relevant muscles are weak and one can see the need for a focused and ritualized practice of only one kind of service stroke.
Because the strokes must function as wholes and are thus susceptible to interruptions caused by disruptive responses, our only defense is to be reliable. The value therefore of exercises and drills cannot be underestimated. There need be no fear of conditioning the student-player to a rigid pattern of responses. Even in the extreme case of the pro standing by the net and throwing the ball to the student, the flight and bounce of the ball will be variable enough. The more ingenious the drills, the better. A greater risk than rigidity is the development of un-
Dennis Ralston lives his whole life aggressively; even his walk is bold, and his tennis game dynamic.
practised “strokes” in competitive play. These stroke variants are the bad habits coaches try to eradicate. Drills permit the gradual development of multiple variations of the same stroke.
If a new variant is introduced after its predecessor has been learned and well drilled, each exists as an independent stroke.
Each consists of its own chain of responses.
An entirely different kind of error-producing behavior, particularly disruptive to the development of reliable strokes, is compulsive variations of the strokes. These variants consist of ordinary strokes or serves, reinforced by sharply increased pace or spins of the ball.
An example of this is the excessively hard-hit serve or stroke. The persistence of these responses in spite of all kinds of evidence suggesting their lack of wisdom, implies some irrational compulsion on the part of the player. A number of problems arise. The first of these is that at a fast pace it is harder to learn and to be consistent at a new skill than at a slower pace. In order to hit a serve so that it moves with unaccustomed power and speed, the player must execute the service motion faster than he comfortably can, and still integrate the critical elements involved. Hence, periods of careful practice in integrating what the right hand does with what the left hand does, are alternated with periods, usually during sets, when the greed for power overcomes the tenuous beginnings of competence. Needless to say, there is no genie of tennis who is going to provide one with an eighty-mile-an-hour serve at the critical moment when, at practice or at a lesson, one is batting at about five hundred with a forty-mile-an-hour serve. However, aside from the disappointment, alternating careful practice with reckless fantasy creates havoc with the development of one’s game, and one has little enough time to practise the correct motions so that they become reliable even at times of maximum tension.
What is true of the serve is true of the other strokes as well. The player goes along at a reasonable pace, playing one’s game, when often at a crucial point the player responds, for no apparent reason, with an attempt to execute a stroke at a pace and in a manner he has never done before. In long points from the baseline one can observe the tension rise after each exchange and one wonders who will be the one to change the pace or change the pattern? Of course, top-flight players change pace, spin all kinds of things all the time. However, the club player does not have this ability and it is unrealistic of him to act as if he did. He does so compulsively and not as an act of poor judgment. This becomes clear as the player responds in a self-disgusted manner that suggests he “did it again’, that he broke a resolution to control a renegade response.
The distinction between poor judgment and compulsive responses is an important one to be made if we are to understand the nature of disruptive behavior. Acts of poor judgment are commonplace on the tennis courts. These are, classically, situations where one evaluates two plus two and comes up with five. Hence, one can see players who, having somehow learned that it is good strategy to “hit to the backhand,” come up against other players whose backhand side is their stronger side. Instead of re-evaluating their strategy, many continue to hit to the backhand side. They don’t seem to be possessed of some feverish urgency to do so. They simply have not “figured out” that this opponent’s strong side is his backhand side. However, compulsive responses occur in the face of the player's determination that they not occur. In preparing to serve or to receive service, the player has all the time he needs to get set to do the right thing. If one observes players and talks to them, one learns that this time is wasted. Player after player will report that all he wanted to do was to retum the ball cross court with nothing special about it. However, what he ends up doing may be something quite different. He may try to slam the ball down the line or attempt a sharply angled, top-spin return, neither of which ever arrive at their intended destination. In this situation it does not appear that poor judgment is at work. The player observed that the odds favored a moderate return of serve, simply putting the ball in play. Yet, he did not execute the sequence; his arm was guided by other intentions.
Those given to falling upon instincts as the explanation will see in this situation a classical clash of aggressive impulses and rational considerations. This is a limited view for several reasons. For one thing it does not explain why, within a narrow range of time, the aggressive response occurs at one moment and not the next. These impulsive responses, aggressive or otherwise, do not occur only at crucial moments. When observed in a casual, undisciplined way, they seem to occur at psychologically significant times such as when the player is winning.
If the impulsive response causes him to lose the point, he will conclude that he cannot stand to win. However, how is he to explain these responses when they occur when he is losing or just rallying? The point is that these frames of reference are not adequate to explain why an impulsive response occurs at one moment rather than another.
The role that compulsive-disruptive response plays is as fundamental to the individual in tennis as it is in life. To be “steady,” “cool” or to “do one’s thing,” is basically to produce the appropriate responses in a predictable manner. However, this kind of regularity is not homo sapiens’ strong point. Given sufficient number of trials, individuals reveal a characteristic pattern of errors. These errors are most meaningful when understood as disturbed sequences.
Persons seem compelled to disturb useful response chains. They do so a great deal of the time, on and off the tennis court. Of course, one can think of notoriously regular persons, “. .. that you can set your watch by.” However, observations based on everyday experience prove that such consistency is truly rare, or to be found only in the most limited situations. Indeed, thoroughly consistent behavior is to be found only within the confines of highly specialized professional situations, i.e. situations where relatively talented individuals spend larger and larger amounts of time training in smaller and smaller areas of competence. The overlearning and ‘narrowness of specialization entailed to acquire reliable competence suggests several conclusions: that strong disruptive forces must be overcome by the most unrelenting perseverance; that the intrusion of compulsively disruptive responses are to be found in almost everyone.
Disruptive responses, in one degree or another, intrude themselves into the learning of the response chains, irrespective of how methodically the learning situation is arranged. Teaching strategies should therefore teach strokes as whole movements and design situations so as to minimize the effects of disruptive responses.
Practice drills not only make learning of the order of responses easier, they also provide the best context for the practice, what I shall call the “supervisory” function. This is that part of the learned response that tailors the response sequence to the individual situation. The supervisory function is as vul-
‘ONY O1aNg Ul 12I0H YyIag 1vwos1say ay] qv ssajurod say sams twanjajog yon jouorssafosg so Kjyuajut suaysy sand py nerable to distractions and malfunction as the sequential part of the stroke response. It is in this connection that eye contact with the ball is imperative. The brain cannot accommodate the stroke sequence to the individual context if it does not know what that context is. Hence in this part of the stroke, the effects of compulsive-disruptive tendencies can be observed in variations in one’s visual awareness of the ball.
No matter how well the response chain is learned, the supervisory part of the stroke response must function with unrelenting vigilance. Its function cannot be “learned” in the sense that one can expect it to function unattended. Indeed it could be said that the visual contact with the ball is what concentration in tennis consists of. The more one concentrates, the more likely one is to produce perfect strokes even in the dark. It might appear as a paradox to some that the greater one’s proficiency in tennis, the more one attends to the ball. Indeed, the point is that greater proficiency evolves to a large extent because of a higher degree of concentration. If the concentration does not appear thorough, it is only because the visual responses have become more efficient with increased and specialized usage.
Good visual habits probably account, more than physique, for the variation in aptitude among beginning students of the sport.
Persons with good experience in activities involving eye-hand coordination seem to do best, ie., baseball players, aircraft gunners. The ease with which a fielder can pick a line drive out of the air with one hand attests to alert visual habits. The apparent casual manner with which he catches the ball is due to his highly developed level of attention. Good visual habits promote better practice in stroke development since the student hits more balls smoothly and cleanly. The less fortunate students can’t understand why the pro keeps on telling them to watch the ball when they are sure that they are watching it. The truth is that critical variations in concentration are difficult for the student to observe in himself. One can very comfortably go through life without ever having to minutely track a moving target. Unless one has a conspicuous reading disability and has recourse to special training, one is not likely to know very much about one’s characteristic habits of visual scanning and fixation.
Crucial as these visual habits may be, they are not taught directly; instead, they develop, if indeed they do develop, incidental to the learning of the strokes. If the serious student of tennis is to improve his skill, he must devote as much time to the development of visual habits as he does to the development of strokes. The “supervisory” part of the stroke is the Achilles’ heel of tennis. No other part of the game must be as consistently applied and yet it is the most vulnerable to distraction. Minor variations result in bad errors. What causes attention to rise or fall must concern the player. Attention cannot be easily divided, and therefore whatever occurs on the court which draws the player’s attention away from the ball, weakens the ability of the brain to tailor the stroke to the situation. There are so many distractions. The most obvious are visual stimuli which intrude into the visual field, i.e., a ball rolling over from the next court, or someone walking by the court. Auditory stimuli also intrude into the player’s consciousness and can account for a loss in attention — most likely loud jarring sounds or persistent barely audible sounds which seduce the player into wondering what the heck is making that sound. It is obvious to suggest that physical stimuli entering the field of consciousness distract the perceiver. Yet, this is not necessarily the case. It is equally true that some persons are extremely resistant to distraction, and that most persons are more susceptible at one time than another time.
Moreover, aside from physical distractions, beyond them lies the vast field of “psychological” distractions. Psychological distractions, in the popular sense of the word, mean distractions occurring in the absence of extraneous physical stimuli. These distractions are caused by some mental event which attracts the player’s attention much as a physical stimulus might. It is, as it were, that the player, at the point when he should be attending to the ball, is “thinking about something else.” He might be thinking about the last point or wondering if he got the score right. Of course much more far-fetched matters arise in the player’s consciousness. But it does not matter if they are remote subjects or commonplace ones. What does matter is the extent of the distraction, what causes it to occur, and what one can do to avoid it.
Distractions, and predominantly psychological distractions, are the greatest source of errors among club players. These players often have good strokes which frequently they do not get a chance to use. They think they are being overwhelmed by their opponent's power or placements, when, in reality, it is their distractions which defeat them. They are forced into ungainly postures and weak returns because they did not have time to prepare their stroke. They did not have time to prepare, however, not because of the ball’s pace, but because their eyes were not locked into the ball. The major role distractions play in tennis errors may require an explanation, considering that many of these club players are skilled athletes or technicians in other fields. The explanation lies, I think, in the particular psychological demands tennis places on the player.
Tennis differs from so many other physical activities in that the player is required to coordinate two independent physical systems, both of which are in motion. The two systems are the ball and the racket head. The golfer, skier, pianist, have at least stationary targets upon which to practise their skill. Not so the tennis player. Perfect strokes are useless unless they are precisely coordinated with the ball in flight and to some extent the ball’s spin, even in mid-air. Perhaps a limited analogy can be drawn to batting in baseball. In baseball, as in tennis, the batsman is expected to hit a ball in flight with an object. The analogy is limited for several reasons: first, the batter gets three tries to return the ball, while the tennis player gets but one chance to return service; the play area available to the batter is much more extensive than that available to the tennis player who must control his tendency to hit the ball out of the court. Moreover, except when he is receiving service, the tennis player must run and get set before he “bats”. Miss-hits in tennis are common even among top professionals in ordinary stroking situations. However, this seems reasonable to expect if one considers that the player is playing a piano that is jumping around the court.
Ordinarily, as a skill is learned and the relevant elements are smoothly patterned, the exercise of the skill requires increasingly less attention and the act becomes increasingly more automatic. As the strokes become automatic, the player can sense where his racket head is without looking. However, knowing where the racket head is, is only half the job. In tennis strokes become smoother with practice and require less and less of the player’s attention. However, the advantages to this automation have limited value in tennis because visual monitoring of the ball can never be suspended. Laver could no more stroke with his eyes closed than Mays could bat with his eyes closed.
The image may seen absurd; however, if one considers the range of high speeds involved, a moment’s distraction is equivalent to closed eyes. A tennis player can never learn a stroke the way a pianist learns a passage or a scale, but because of his experiences elsewhere, he has a tendency to do so. Hence if he is stroking well he may tend to relax his vigilance. As he does this his strokes deteriorate and the player wonders what happened to his game.
As one focuses beyond the individual stroke and on to tactical groups of strokes, the player’s need for attention becomes even more clear. The skills of tennis are productive in the sense that language is productive, i.e., a limited set of elements are combined and re-combined in a novel, original way. The accomplished tennis player must produce sequences of strokes the way one produces sentences of speech. The “sentences” of tennis, like the sentences of speech, must be produced with rapidity and coherence. Moreover, they must be produced within the limited time span imposed by the on-rushing tennis ball, its spin and its wide avenues of approach. The reaction times required to produce an intelligent as well as an adequate stroke are very short and serve to emphasize once more the high demands placed on the attention of even the most accomplished player.
I have discussed so far those psychological distractions caused by the psychophysical nature of tennis and those caused by the tendency toward automation of psychomotor skills. I will now discuss, in turn, two further sources of psychologically related errors: first, errors caused by factors inherent in the play of the game; and secondly, those errors related inherently to the interaction of persons.
That there is distraction inherent in the play of the game is demonstrated by the change in stroking, and in play generally, as players shift from rallying to playing a set. Players who are lions when they rally can become lambs as the set begins. I think aside from the matter of competitiveness, the play of the game itself causes distractions simply by virtue of a change on context. For one thing the player has more to think about. He thinks about the score and he gets more interested, perhaps for the first time, in the play of his opponent. He thinks more about his serve and his opponent’s serve. The buildup of tension seems to reach its maximum during long exchanges. The longer the exchange, the greater the tension. On the level of club play these exchanges are often lost on rank blunders, even under conditions of minimal competitive tension. This behavior can be explained in part by the sharp rise of stimuli competing for the player's attention. It is noteworthy that as drills make tactics more automatic, the player is more able to attend to the ball, and errors are reduced. Changes in courts, playing surfaces, moves in or out of doors, and other similar changes are also likely to cause errors of a temporary nature, errors which disappear as the player accommodates to the new condition.
Those aspects of tennis related to the interactions of persons are for most people very interesting aspects of tennis psychology. The issues involved are familiar and observable in other similar situations. I would describe these situations as follows: They are limited physically and are participated in jointly by a small number of persons in a face-to-face manner; they are intrinsically goal-oriented situations. The participating persons come together to achieve some satisfaction or satisfy some need, the satisfaction of which requires their mutual participation. These kinds of situations occur frequently in the player's life; how he reacts to them goes far in defining his personality. If a person is excitable in life, he is likely to be excitable on the court. If he is methodical and patient in life, he is likely to be methodical and patient on the tennis court. The interactional aspects of tennis bring in the player’s personality as an additional factor contributing to the competence of his response, or detracting from it.
The conventional court and the conventional rules do not define the tennis game that any two or four persons set out to play. There are many kinds of games and they evoke different sets of responses. The kinds of distinctions that come to mind are well illustrated if one thinks of people having a conversation. Some people converse, others argue, still others quarrel, fight, shout and behave in any shameful way they can get away with. Just as the rules of grammar permit equally conversing, arguing, quarreling and the rest, so do the rules of tennis permit their analogous equivalents to exist in tennis. The analogy is not a frivolous one. As mentioned previously, the skills of tennis are productive. The elements of tennis, like the elements of speech, have the potential of being recombined in novel, yet appropriate, ways. However, as in speech, this potential for creativity can be used or misused in a wide variety of ways.
In this field, as in others, it serves the player well to see himself as others see him. It also behooves the player, especially if involved in tournament play, to look more closely at his rival and try to get a better idea of the psychological style of his game. . In saying that some players “quarrel” or “argue” when they play tennis, I do not mean that they quarrel or argue verbally in the usual sense of these words. I mean their style of play is quarrelsome; they are sullen and often seem on the brink of irritability; their strokes are violent; they frequently hit other players with the ball. At the level of ordinary club play, hitting the ball as hard as possible at the net-man is often successful so that this behavior is rationalized as an effective tactic. However, as the level of play improves this aggressive pace is easily tumed against quarrelsome players by the alert net-man. Quarrelsome players, like quarrelsome persons, are not always recognized as such. They can be sweet as anybody, as long as they can have their way. However, if the game begins to turn against them, their more basic tactics come to the fore.
Therefore the style of game the players chose to play, or the contention between players as to which style of game will emerge, influences competence. We ordinarily think that a certain person brings out the best or the worst in us. I think in examining the situation in tennis you will find that this is only indirectly so. It is perhaps more true to say that different situations bring out different kinds of responses in the participants.
The quarrelsome game is a different game, one making different demands upon the player than, for example, a friendly game, or a game with a subtly competitive person.
Variations in style of play are composed of tangible responses, responses the player has been exposed to and has reacted to all his life, on and off the tennis court. His best defense in tennis, as in life, is to be as aware as possible both of the other person’s responses and his own responses to situations as they evolve.
What seems to be at the core of many of the most troublesome styles, of play is irrational competitive behavior. This behavior is irrational not because it consists of an enormous ambition to be the best tennis player of one’s group, but because the player is obsessed with his image in the eyes of others, and in winning per se. The competitive person is as competitive with his partner as he is with his adversaries. It’s how he “looks” that counts. He wants to make the great shots. If his side is going to lose, he wants it clear it was his partner’s fault. This attitude does not promote the development of great strokes and sound tactics, the sort of thing one usually thinks of as winning sets. The competitive player prefers to work on his opponent’s personality aiming to produce distractions and aborted strokes.
The gamesmanship-like antics of competitive fellows in popular media are generally thought of in humorous terms. However, on the tennis court they rarely produce a smile. No enumeration of these behaviors is possible because they seem numberless and new ones are constantly discovered. “You serve first!”
or “these balls seem dead — here, use mine,” are relatively tame examples of provocative verbal remarks. As innocuous as they may seem, the player is often still thinking about those balls a moment later when all his attention should be fastened on to the ball in play. If he makes an error as a result of his distraction, he will have two things to think about.
In addition to the quarrelsome style noted before, three other styles of play suggest themselves: the seductive, the provocative, and the friendly.
I refer to one style of player as seductive because he is least obvious in his competitive behavior, especially when the game is going his way. The seductive player bases his strategy on conservative playing and on a talent to distract his opponent in subtle, undramatic ways; mainly, he fusses. He fusses about which court to play on; about the color of the balls; about the kind of racket his opponent is using; and almost anything that might engage his opponent’s attention. During the set this kind of competitor chats a lot. He congratulates his opponent whenever he makes a good point and complains bitterly about his poor playing whenever he loses a point. Also, the seductive player does not like to rally much before a set, nor does he like to practise his serves before a set. For his kind of game both activities are superfluous. His conservative game requires much less warming up than that of his more ambitious opponents. Hence the competitive seductive player tries to rush his adversaries into starting. During play, he never deviates from his conservatism; he rarely tries for a winner; he rarely comes up to net. Others may read of how games are won at the net, but our competitive player follows a simpler rule: games are won when someone else makes an error. His game is a study in
"yisuars jooiskyd qvasd puv aouasaig Kian say hq aus Kuv saypumuop janoy jauwsavyy applied mediocrity. He seduces with his chatter. He seduces with his deceptively simple game.
The provocative player annoys. He is neither chatty nor sullen. He is the kind of fellow who takes a minute to blow his nose while the other fellow is waiting to serve. He will call service faults on both sides of the net and in these calls, as well as others, he is frequently incorrect. I characterize his judgment as incorrect because it seems to me that his behavior is more concemed with provoking his adversary than in stealing the point. The provocative player, unlike the seductive player, does not depend on a conservative game. His game is often well above the mediocre and thus the combination of his provocativeness and his skill can represent a threat on many levels of play.
Practically speaking, it is hard to defend oneself against provocations, but the more thoroughly one has learmed the skills of tennis, the more immune one is. Some people, it would appear, are more immune than others. But realistically speaking, while many players pride themselves on their immunity to provocation, people do react to provocations, and they do so all the more as the stakes increase.
In contrast to competitive styles of play, in friendly styles of play, players minimize distractions and encourage one another with each other’s enthusiastic participation. The defining conditions of the friendly game are, I think, that the goals of each player are compatible, rather than in conflict with one another.
In instances where players are working hard at improving their skills, each player plays all the better even though his adversary on the court is struggling as hard as he to win. They encourage one another, not with lessons, but with a kind of mutual identification. The friendly style is perhaps not as often achieved in all its potential. However, in degrees it does occur and is, after all, the principal basis for tennis as a human situation.
However, the topic of competitive behavior is a difficult one to exhaust, touching as it does so many facets of the tennis situation. In speaking of these sources of error associated with the person-to-person interactions of tennis, I have emphasized the different ways in which the tennis situation can be colored by one or several of the participants. In view of the important role played by competitive behavior, I shall develop this topic further.
One might well ask, “Why should competitive behavior play such a large part in tennis psychology?” The answer lies, I think, in appreciating the prominent aspects of tennis: first, that it is a situation calling for the exercise of a well-developed and difficult competence; second, that this competence is exercised in a conspicuously public way.
In tennis, as in life, a very high and emotional value is put on all kinds of competences. The emotional element involved tends to transform the reality of competence in one field to a more transcending over-riding “competence” in all things. It is not unusual to find a situation where an athletic hero, bank president or teacher is looked to for leadership or guidance in other than their own fields. Their attainment in one field identifies them, in the public mind, as part of a cadre of “smart” people. This tendency to exaggerate the emotional significance of competence in any field comes very much to the fore in tennis and makes winning and losing such a pleasure situation for many people. For the status-conscious person, doing poorly at tennis has this wider significance, a significance made all the more intense by the utterly public nature of tennis.
We are not accustomed to the public disclosure of our competences. As a general rule, performing in public is an extra element that has to be learned along with whatever skill is involved. In this sense, public speaking is regarded as a competence significantly different from speaking in a more private context. Similarly, a person adept at making fine apple pies is quite likely to feel quite cramped and uncomfortable if he or she were asked to bake one in a shop window. The same aura of public context influences the behavior of the ordinary tennis player. Anyone susceptible to vanity or embarrassment has a hard time in tennis. There is nowhere to hide. The ordinary player is as conscious of the stands as the toummament player.
This self-consciousness leads to double faults, overheads smashed into the bottom of the net, ungainly strokes of all kinds. This self-consciousness also makes the competitive person all the more competitive, to the extent he would not be if the relevant activity were a more private one, say, reading, writing, painting, woodworking. In these activities, the person unobserved, can practise and make errors as much as he needs to. His activities are as private as he chooses to make them.
It is clear that the tennis player has a long psychological frontier to protect. The skills of tennis are difficult ones to acquire. Once acquired they must be practised with unswerving attention. I have tried to indicate in this chapter that inattention and errors are complex rather than simple phenomena. Many of these errors could be avoided if the players were more conscious of their occurrence. This is particularly true of errors from inconsistent strokes. A player should take more notice of when he is deviating from his game, and he should be less hasty in rationalizing the advantages of these deviations. Errors arising from failure of visual attention are difficult because there is obviously much more to seeing and attending than “willing” it from moment to moment. Young players must be trained in observing a ball’s behavior in flight or as it bounces, then they, like trained birdwatchers, can “see” where others cannot.
Most “choking up” and “psyching out” are related to a drop in visual attention. It is not that the eyes fail, but rather that part of the brain in charge of processing the data is interfered with. The most visible part of choking up and psyching out are stiff awkward strokes. However, these stem from the loss of time caused by inattention. Again, the more a player can convince himself that almost all his troubles come from inattention, the more he can maximize his available attention skills and restrain any tendency to go off on bogus alternative tactics.
In a match where players are of approximately the same caliber, the more provocative player is highly favored. The very act of coping with a provocative adversary causes one to lose attention and points. Manipulative persons can carry on and provoke ad nauseam and rarely distract themselves. As tennis becomes more popular and more lucrative, more such people will be drawn into the sport. If rules of play are not strengthened with respect to provocative behavior, championships will slip increasingly into the hands of the more successful provocateurs.
Tennis has enjoyed a booming popularity in the last several years which today makes it one of America’s top participation sports. Tennis courts are springing up like mushrooms in many hamlets and cities across our nation providing easy access to this marvelously invigorating sport. Department stores report burgeoning sales of tennis equipment that have reached levels undreamed of several years ago. In short, the tennis boom is on and the U.S.A. is rapidly becoming a nation of tennis and tennis players.
Most of us who take up a new sport expect that in the beginning, performance will be rough and erratic with expectations that with practice and instruction our game will gradually improve. The game of tennis, like any other new endeavor, can be a terribly frustrating experience to the novice. Missed shots or badly hit shots that go astray often result in our mumbling, shrieking, swearing, or attacking our equipment. Those who are able to endure these early difficulties find that with practice and coaching these mistakes become fewer and further between. There is a genuine and very special kind of satisfaction which results from a vigorous and sustained volley on a tennis court.
Conquering the game of tennis is a sweet victory, indeed. There comes a point however, in everyone’s game, when improvement seems to plateau and it becomes difficult to achieve further improvement. We feel blocked and frustrated as a result of our failure to move forward in the face of additional practice and experience. We may re-experience the same feeling of anguish and disgust that we felt as novices when our performance did not live up to our desires. Where does this invisible blocking, this real but intangible barrier come from? A psychological glimpse at the game of tennis will help us to gain some understanding of the origin of this roadblock.
A Psychological Glimpse at the Game of Tennis
From time immemorial men have engaged in athletic contests, pitting themselves against another man or men in competition. The motivations for athletic contests are many, including the thrill of competition, the satisfaction of winning, the strengthening of one’s body, winning recognition, and a host of other rewards. The excitement of competition and contest with another human being is certainly one of the joys of the game of tennis. The kind of athletic activity represented by tennis involves some very special physical changes in the body which are part of the body’s preparation to meet stress and challenge.
It is these bodily changes that occur in connection with the game of tennis which can either enhance or detract from our game. When we are engaged in physically competitive activities, chemical changes help our bodies to deal with the increased demands which we place on them. In addition to the physical changes which tennis involves, there occur emotional changes which relate to our desire to win and/or to make a good showing. Both these physical and emotional changes result in our feeling “keyed up” or “wound up” or “up” for the game. In general we can think of the changes that take place as involving increased bodily arousal which normally helps us to perform better under the physical and emotional stress of athletic competition. Many of us are able to achieve just enough increase in our state of body arousal so that physically and emotionally we perform better while playing a sport like tennis.
However, it is possible to become aroused, keyed up and excited excessively to the point where it begins to hurt your tennis game. In short there is a certain optimum or best level of arousal or excitement involved in any good game of tennis. What happens when you get keyed up or psyched up beyond this optimum or best point? We know from studies in animals and humans that performance at a complex task like a game of tennis is likely to become erratic and disorganized when overly high levels of arousal have occurred. In other words, if you become too excited, tense and keyed up, your game will suffer. Over-arousal resulting from tension and stress is clearly one of the most common factors involved in interfering with our ability to play tennis as well as we might. It is tension and stress arising from this over-arousal which forms the invisible roadblock to tennis improvement which I mentioned previously.
Becoming overly tense and anxious on the tennis court can be likened to a bad habit which we want to change. When we become tense and stressed, through the process of association, tension can become a learned response to stepping on to the tennis court and initiating the game. This association repeated several times becomes in effect a habit like any other habit that becomes difficult to change if it is repeated again and again. Anyone who has tried to cut down or cut out cigarette smoking knows the agony of habit modification quite well. It is clear then that we can learn to be tense and anxious in certain situations and that this leaned tension can be a chronically disruptive factor in our efforts to achieve better performance on the tennis court. What is the answer then to this problem of learned tennis tension? The answer is to learn to relax. If we can learn to be tense, we can also learn to relax. Helping people learn to relax is part of a psychologist’s everyday job. We have learned about some ways of helping people to relax that can well be applied specifically to the game of tennis. While it may seem like a long leap from the psychotherapist’s couch to the tennis court, actually there is much that tennis players can learn from the kind of relaxation training that goes on in my office. The skill of relaxation, like the game of tennis, is something which improves with practice. Like most skills, the basic fundamentals are easily taught, while real mastery depends on practice and repetition. Mastering the art of relaxation will require work and effort, but it is effort which will be repaid many times over. When that tennis ball begins to behave more and more as you intended it to behave, you will feel that the effort you have put forth in learning how to relax has truly made your tennis game more dynamic.
One of the basic ingredients in chronic disruptive tension is skeletal muscle tightening. When our bodies get tight and
Roger Taylor is a perfect example of a tennis player who has used courage to pull himself to the top of the tennis ladder. His backhand is stronger than his forehand.
tense we are actually squeezing and cramping our muscles together in a way that has certain definite effects. One of the effects of this continued cramping is aches and pains. A tense muscle is often one which will begin to ache. Aches and pains are distracting and break our concentration. A cramped muscle is more easily injured than a loose flexible muscle. Learning to relax can therefore be a measure of protection for the body. Cramped, tight muscles often cut down the blood supply to the extremities (hands and feet), resulting in numbness and tingling which decrease our ability to perform as well as we might like. These undesirable effects often creep up on us — we become tense without being aware of our tension. One of the secrets of relaxation training is learning to appreciate the difference between bodily relaxation and tension. This process is what psychologists call discrimination training, or being able to learn the difference between two states (in this case tension and relaxation). The amazing human capacity for learning to make fine distinctions between very similar objects or states was brought home to me vividly as a result of personal experience on a part-time job many years ago. During my junior year of college I became ill with pneumonia and was forced to drop out of school as I was unable to keep up with my studies. Following my recovery I obtained a job in the Hudson’s Bay Fur
Co. as an assistant fur grader, so that I could save some money for the second semester of school. My first day on the job as the assistant to an experienced fur grader was a difficult one indeed. In addition to the normal confusion involved in starting any new job, there was the added factor of my discovering that the fine discriminations in grade and color being made by my mentor were lost on my unschooled eye. All of the furs looked the same to me! Gradually, with patient tutoring, I was able to make finer and finer discriminations so that by the time I left the job I was able to grade furs in a complex grading system with fair accuracy. The same type of learning process takes place when you are learning to relax. With practice it becomes easier and easier.
The first ingredicnt in a program of relaxation training is a genuine commitment to the program. You have to promise yourself that you will practise regularly until you have mastered the skill of effective relaxation. Once you have extracted a promise from yourself that you will do the job and do it right, then you can think about moving on to the actual mechanics of the program.
You will, if you follow this program, learn by orderly, systematic and scientifically tested procedures, both the techniques of relaxation and tension control. These techniques will not only help you to achieve a better game of tennis, but will also be helpful in other areas of your life. Many people report that when they learn to relax they can sleep better and have more energy during the day time. They find it easier to concentrate on studies, jobs and any task to be done. Body wear and tear is decreased when you learn to relax, as tension and anxiety take their toll on our bodies. You may even become easier to live with as you become more relaxed, and certainly your tennis game will improve if you approach it in a calm relaxed manner. Remember, you are learning a new skill and can’t expect to master it the first time or two you try it. Just think of how many times you had to practise your serve before it became smooth.
Try not to become upset if some practice periods seem less effective than others. Ups and downs can be expected whenever you are learning a new skill). Remember though, you are learning a lifetime skill and the time and effort you put forth will be well worth your time and energy.
Step number one involves finding a comfortable; quiet place to practise. You will need to find a place free from distraction, which can be a major task for anyone with spouse, children, and pets running rampant around the house. At any rate, you should do your best to find a comfortable, quiet, well-ventilated location that you can call your own for at least a small fraction of the day. You will find that your program will succeed best if you put yourself on a-regular schedule and consistently stick to it.
This program of relaxation will consist of seven lessons which will teach us how to relax the major muscle groups in our bodies. The basic assignment each day will be to relax and contract certain muscles in order to learn the difference between tension and relaxation in the different muscle groups.
Each practice session will start with five minutes of rest in the basic position. To assume the basic position, first rest your feet flat on the floor about six inches apart. Position your forearms comfortably on the arms of your chair and let your head drop comfortably forward. Close your eyes gradually and keep them closed except when you need to glimpse your relaxation instructions. Allow approximately thirty to forty-five minutes for your practice sessions. Don’t try to watch the clock, but have somebody call you when your time is finished. Try one lesson each day until you have mastered all seven.
Place the instructions in front of you propped on a table or chair so that you can take a peek when necessary. First place yourself in the basic position and relax for five minutes.
With your forearms resting on the arms of your chair and your palms facing up, bend your hands at the wrist, fingers straight so that they point at you. Keep your hands in this position for thirty seconds. You should feel the tension in the upper, outer and back part of the forearm. Try to note this feeling and remember it. Now let your hands fall, limp and loose, and continue to relax for about two or three minutes. Note how it feels to relax your forearms. Repeat the bending-up movement of your hands. Again note the feeling of tension. Relax your hands and continue to relax for several minutes.
Next turn your arms onto their sides and bend the hands inward towards you. Observe the tension centered in the large muscles on the inner surface of both forearms. Relax and let your hands go limp. Notice how the feeling of tension vanishes. After relaxing for several minutes, repeat the exercise. Try to become totally relaxed and sit for fifteen or twenty minutes in a relaxed state.
Lesson Two: Lower and Upper Arm as a Unit
Once again place yourself in the basic position and relax for five minutes before beginning any specific exercises. Let’s begin with the left arm first. Keeping your arm in the basic position, tense the whole arm and curl your fingers into a tight fist. Make
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the arm stiff and rigid and observe the tension throughout the entire arm. Gradually relax your arm until you feel the tension melting away. Relax the arm for several minutes. Repeat this exercise now in both arms, squeezing your fists until you can feel the tension in both arms. Slowly reduce the tension and try to observe carefully what the process of relaxing feels like.
Relax both arms for several minutes. Try to make yourself totally relaxed for fifteen or twenty minutes.
In this lesson we learn to identify feelings of tension and relaxation in the legs. Start off in the basic position as always, and relax for five minutes. Slowly bend the feet at the ankles up towards you as far as you can. Feel the strain and tension. Relax your ankles, place your feet on the floor and pay attention to the feeling of relaxation in this part of your body. Repeat the exercise and relax for five minutes.
Next we will learn about tension and relaxation in the calf muscles. Raise your heels off the floor, while keeping your toes firmly planted on the ground. Study the feeling of tension and strain in your calf muscles. Relax your calves by lowering your heels to the floor. Notice the feeling of relaxation in your calf muscles. Raise the heels again and study the tension, and relax your calves by dropping your heels once again to the floor. Relax for fifteen to twenty minutes.
This lesson concerns the study of tension in the thigh muscles primarily. First assume the basic position. Relax in this position for five minutes. Extend both legs straight out in front of you lifting your feet from the floor as the legs straighten out at the knees. Hold your legs straight out in front of you for several seconds and take note of the tension in the tops of both thighs. Relax, allowing both feet to drop to the floor. Note the feeling of relaxation in your thigh muscles. Once again, straighten out your legs in front of you for several seconds and observe the tension in the thigh muscles. Again, relax your legs slowly to the floor and study the feeling of relaxation in the upper part of your legs. Relax for five minutes.
We will next study the tension in the large muscles beneath the thigh bone. Bend both legs backwards at the knee, dragging both feet back towards the chair. Hold the legs in this position for several seconds and note the tension in the muscles at the lower back part of the thigh. Retum your legs to their original position, relax and note the difference between tension and relaxation in the thigh muscles. Once again, bend the legs back towards your chair and locate the feeling of tension as before.
Retum your legs to the original position and note the feeling of relief and relaxation which you feel in your thigh muscles. Relax totally for fifteen to twenty minutes.
This lesson is concerned with teaching you to discriminate the difference between tension and relaxation in the upper part of your body. First assume the basic position and relax for five minutes in this position. Next, pull in your stomach muscles and tighten them until you feel the tension all over your stomach wall. Relax your stomach muscles and note the feeling of relaxation in this area. Once again tighten the stomach muscles and try to remember what it feels like as you were getting tense. Relax slowly and feel the relaxation creeping over this area. Relax for five minutes. Next, arch your back slowly until you begin to experience feelings of tension in your back muscles.
Relax slowly until the feeling of tension is gone from your lower back area. Arch your back once again until it is tense and hard. Relax completely and observe how it feels to be relaxed and free of tension in this area. Relax totally for fifteen to twenty minutes.
This sixth lesson is concerned with the muscles which we use for breathing and the shoulder muscles. First assume the basic position and relax for five minutes in this position. Take a deep breath, hold it and note the feeling of tension in the chest area. Locate where the tension is felt. Breathe out normally and relax — your chest area. Take another deep breath and take mental note of where the tension is concentrated. Exhale and relax those chest muscles until all traces of tension are gone. Relax for
several minutes. In order to study tension in the shoulder muscles, we must first pull our shoulder blades straight back as if
Wwe were trying to make them meet behind our back. You should feel the tightness and tension in the spinal area between your shoulder blades. Now relax and note the feeling of relaxation in this area. Repeat this exercise until you feel the first glimmer of tension in the middle of your back. Relax and feel the tension melting away. Relax for five minutes.
Finally, shrug your shoulders and make them tight. You should feel the tension at the tops of your shoulders. Relax your shoulders and study the feeling of relaxation spreading over your shoulder muscles. Shrug them again and pay particular attention to the feeling of tension as you make the muscles tighter and tighter. Now relax the shoulders and once again pay attention to the feeling of relaxation as the shoulders become loose and relaxed. Relax for fifteen to twenty minutes.
Assume the basic position and relax for five minutes. Wrinkle up your forehead and note how it feels and then wrinkle it even harder. Relax and observe how it feels as your forehead becomes smooth and relaxed. Next, frown and crease your eyebrows tight. Relax and once again note how it feels to smooth out your forehead as you relax. Close your eyes and make them tighter and tighter all the while studying the feeling of tension as you tighten them. Relax, and with your eyes still closed, note how it feels to be relaxed in this area. Clench your jaws together hard, and feel the tension in your jaw muscles. Relax your jaws and stay relaxed for several minutes. Next to the neck area. Press your head back as far as it can go and feel the tension in the back of the neck. Roll your head to the right and feel the tension in the left side of the neck. Roll the head to the left and feel the tension in the right side of the neck. Relax totally, for fifteen to twenty minutes.
Relaxation on the Tennis Court
After you have worked hard to master the technique of relaxation, you should begin to try to make your new skill pay off | for you on the tennis court. No skill or knowledge is of any value unless you use it, and use it in the right way. As you approach closer and closer to stepping on the tennis court, try to make yourself more and more relaxed. Take several deep breaths and begin a body inventory of tension and relaxation.
With a little effort you should now be able to spot tension trouble spots in your body. Work to relax these areas as you have done so many times in practice sessions at home. You will soon find that taking a body inventory of tension and relaxing tension trouble spots will become an unconscious and automatic habit when it is repeated a number of times. You will soon find yourself facing your opponent in a relaxed, calm state that should add points to your game.
Try these techniques; I know they will work.
Tennis, like life, is what you make of it. You can play tennis for fun, for exercise, to relax, to compete, to destroy. For some, it is a game; for others, it is their life. When I first saw a tennis match, I thought only the rich played. Then at nineteen, at a summer camp, I tried my hand. Although the frustrations of that day were hard to forget, I eventually played two more times that summer. Basketball, a game I grew up with, remained my primary athletic outlet. I felt (rationalized) that tennis was effeminate. Basketball was a man’s game, a battle of power with finesse. Tennis was too genteel.
Three years later I bought a racket and tried to teach myself by hitting the ball against a wall. I also played a few games with friends. My life with tennis changed only slightly in the next decade. Occasionally I played with friends and colleagues.
Doubles meant a total social game where you moved from side to side and didn’t get much exercise. You also did not know what was happening. Mixed doubles meant even less exercise.
The only person who played tennis with me consistently was my wife. Mostly we hit forehands. Our backhands were hit almost as a last resort. Serving was attempted only once in a while. We ran a lot and thoroughly enjoyed tapping the ball over. Elation came when we could hit five or more shots in a row. Victory!
About five years ago, my wife decided to really play tennis. Every morning at 7:00, she would play with a friend. When I came home at night, I would practise with her too. Our games began to improve. We even learned to hit backhands and to serve. I was ready to be weaned. Yes, I was about to play tennis with men, the big time.
Evonne Goolagong: An ability to win when behindpartly compensates for her many lapses in concentration.
At first I thought tennis was a game, a sport. I assumed you played to have a good time. Soon I realized that men, myself included, brought many of their needs with them to the court.
Some men waited all week to give vent to their frustrations. The weekend tennis match was their day in the spotlight. If, all week long they were forgotten or unimportant, here at least was proof of their powers. The match took on gladiator-like proportions — victory and survival were synonymous.
The men (and women) not only wanted to win, but as Vince Lombardi said, “Winning is everything.” Some men chose to win by the most honest way — straightforward hard work and no nonsense. It was a serious and deadly decapitation of the enemy. Every offensive weapon was employed — hard serve, net game, overhead, lob, volley, backhand, etc. The pressure was unrelenting. Their aim was to win 6-0. If two such players competed, it was an interesting but humorless match. Challengers arose to dethrone the king (the top player). A lesser player would compete, and if he lost, invariably he would blame the loss on a bad day, or that he had worked hard all week and was exhausted.
Machismo was ever-present and the tennis buffs could never relax. Some players were always seeking to win and would not dare challenge better players, but only weaker ones. Here victory was certain and the games were really a means to attain the feeling of being a conqueror.
Some players were not always victorious; to them the way they played was important. Shots had to be hit hard and at the opponent’s vulnerable spots. The racket was used as a weapon. A good shot was more memorable than the final score. The aggression would take on frightening proportions and intimidate weaker or less aggressive players. Although most aggressive players used their rackets, some used their mouths. They would try to “psyche out” or instill fear by what they said or by quick aggressive moves at the net.
This American motif of winning and attainment can be seen on any tennis court. Winners feel pride in their accomplishment. But why is it that we need to win to feel good? And if we need this to feel our best, what happens when we lose?
We no longer need to win to survive. One can live without always having this hunger for being the victor. Is this our institutional heritage of being aggressive? I wonder.
I am surprised to see how personalities change on the tennis court. Meek and retiring persons can become not only aggressive and hostile but ugly too. Many have very responsible jobs during the week: lawyers, teachers, physicians, salesmen, psychologists, etc. What happens if they do not release their aggression? What happens if they lose on Sunday and take more frustrations with them to work on Monday? Do they foist their anger on others? Are they only capable of being decent, helpful and relaxed if they win?
There are players who cheat. There are others who see a shot and then have to wait before they call it. The need to win enters perception and thinking. What one sees is colored by the need to win. For others the long pause before calling a shot entails thinking of what should be called. The intricate thought processes go beyond calling a shot as it happens. The player thinks of the game, the kind of guy the other player is, the tempo of the game, what is morally correct.
If winning is everything, then losing must be nothing. Here we see how players must learn to be good sports. Some rationalize their losses, others hate themselves, their rackets, the playing conditions, wind, time of day, noise, sun, not enough rest the previous night, etc. Very few of us can lose graciously. If winning yields smiles, glee, and proves we are worth something, losing proves we are worthless, empty and discardable.
I have seen a loss devastate a person so badly that he ran away from the courts. Another player broke a racket. A third player contemplated giving up the game after weeks of re-
_ peated losses. I have seen one man talk to himself and psyche himself out of the game. He hated himself for losing and being unable to hit the ball where he wanted to. This person was a fairly good player but the repeated losses began to eat at him.
Tennis is supposed to be exercise, relaxing and fun. We have seen how our feelings can destroy these pleasant aspects of the game. The need to win and the fear of loss drives players. As I said earlier, some are so fearful of losing that they compete with inferior players, thereby assuring victory. The psychology of losing erodes persons beyond the match. They may brood for hours afterwards. They may think of how to avenge the loss, and practise, plot and scheme how to win the next time the combatants return. The intensity of the game for players who see winning as everything negates the positives of tennis as a form of recreation. Instead of toning down the frustration of daily living, they only heat it up in their leisure time. Their psychological growth is stunted by this constant treadmill. The intensity is such that the game is washed off the court. The same player may need to play for hours until this heightened tension diminishes. The drive to win seemingly takes over. He appears to be driven by a demon. He plays until he is exhausted — pauses — and returns for more. Such a player betrays this tension as he awaits to play. The excitement is all around him and within him. Like a time bomb set to explode, he must play at a given time. Watch what happens if inclement weather intervenes. It is like looking at a caged, pent-up tiger.
It is sad when we become such frustrated, hostile persons. The stress of our daily lives need not be so heavily laden.
Certainly, our leisure hours can be free, or relatively free of such overriding stress. The choice of a life that is enjoyable, pleasant, growing and involving more of our psyche and bodies than competition is always a possibility. It is a credit to those who play tennis and enjoy it as a game, as a means of having fun, of learning to see how a player can do so much with his or her body. Growth comes from exploring new possibilities and tennis holds this out to us. As a game, tennis is not good nor bad. It is what we make of it. For some of us who choose to keep competition in perspective and not be pushed around by it, we can explore other avenues of growth.
I was amazed to see the feelings aroused when I played doubles for the first time. You now have to reach out and be a partner. Some of us cannot do this easily and often prefer the lesser burden of singles. For some, doubles mean we can lean on a stronger player and, therefore, prefer doubles to singles, where you win or lose all by yourself. The dynamics of singles versus doubles points to how we present ourselves to the world.
Some of us only want to be alone, to live or die alone. The feelings of sharing are too difficult to handle. Others want to share all the time, and cannot tolerate the feeling of being alone.
Doubles can mean equal sharing or a very unequal partnership. Here we see how persons deal with equality, power and submission. Some of us cannot be equals and we quickly take over. We lead, direct others, or push others around. The issue of equality is circumvented quickly by the person who cannot tolerate it. Others submit, comfortably or begrudgingly, to the overwhelming partner. Tennis allows some of us at times to be equals, also to lead, and also to follow, and the partners can move from one role to another in a flexible and appropriate way. The healthier the player is, the more likely he will move through life and tennis in this open way. Those who must participate in a given way are playing tennis the same way as they live. They bring to the game, and to the present moment, only what has worked in the past. By “worked”, I mean what has allowed them to survive until now. Growth is subservient to survival for these persons.
If a bad shot is made, a partner may apologize to his partner. Why the apology? Because the partner is the “parent” to be looked up to, or, perhaps to diminish the anger of the partner? Some of us play a superb shot and then are unable to play well for the next few minutes. The past shot is still being relished and so nothing new is happening until that grand shot is digested. Sometimes a bad shot or a game that got away will eat at us and we will be in a rut for a few minutes.
Doubles offer a means of seeing how men relate to one another, how women relate to one another, men to women, and vice versa. Many men and women cannot play mixed doubles.
Some problems that deter playing with members of the opposite sex include being aggressive with women, the inability to play tennis when a man is on the court, and the fear of being embarrassed. It is best for such persons to avoid any serious competition. If this fails to subside shame, then avoid mixed doubles.
Couples who have known one another for a long period of time may play smoothly together, or very precariously. Marital or other partnerships do not insure good tennis coupling. I have seen men become angry at their wives, instruct their wives, ignore their wives or degrade their wives in a mixed doubles match. I have not seen women do this to their mates. The women who were manhandled suffered their embarrassment stoically. When one observes these reactions, one also sees reflections of our culture and the way men and women relate to one another. Men often discuss female players on their own terms. For example, “She hits like a man; her serve is as good as a man’s; she is not afraid at the net.” Women do not discuss male tennis players in female terms. Often we see women playing on weekdays and men playing on weekends. It appears that women can only play when their men are at work. Male domination is also evident when we observe the male heroes of the game with their bigger prize money and instructors who are overwhelmingly male oriented.
The competitiveness of the game is an extension of the male too. Although women are competitive, they do not play with the same do or die determination. When men play singles with women, they do not play as equals. The male ego is too fragile; he must win. Losing to a fellow man is terrible, but the thought of losing to a woman invites ridicule. The woman is caught. She wants to play and enjoy herself. If she wins, she makes her male partner feel small; if she loses because she does not play her hardest, she is being dishonest.
The fight for women’s liberation and equality between the sexes has barely affected tennis. Most of us take the differences and inequalities for granted. It is a shame that we do, for we lose much by our cold indifference. If we stand steadfast to rigid roles, and push our unpleasant behavior unto others, if we cannot bend, we learn little from our mistakes and go through life like robots. The need to exert power is an unnecessary and unproductive situation and points to persons who are uncertain of themselves. They cannot face weakness and continually bully others to hide their outer limitations.
I see tennis, for myself, as a reflection of my life. I see it as a game that I can play well or poorly, depending upon my frame of mind. When life is worth living and relatively tensionfree, I play tennis with joy. When there is much emotional tension in my life, I hit balls poorly; I fall behind in a competitive game. When practising, I have difficulty hitting the ball where I want to.
Tennis is played often as an extension of the way we feel. Of the many persons I have watched play, I have noted that only a few play in a healthy manner. For these, tennis is an outdoor exercise, fun to play, enjoyable and invigorating. If the game is competitive, they play to win but do not try to destroy the opponent. If they lose, they do not sulk for the rest of the day.
For tennis buffs, the game is overwhelming. Discussions at gatherings and parties focus around tennis. The better players are looked up to as post-campus heroes. Sometimes tennis becomes even more important than what we do for a living, our families and our communities. Tennis becomes of prime im- ~ portance when everything else is frustrating. Tennis can be an outlet for some of these frustrations, but not all.
Tennis buffs from ages thirty to fifty often turn to tennis as a means of finding a new challenge in life, when frustration and boredom become more prevalent. Life has been met and now new challenges have to be found. Still the task is to find oneself, hence meaning in life cannot be found totally in recreation. It is only an outlet. There are those who run away from their daily lives at this juncture in life and continue to run. There are others who re-find themselves and then tennis is placed in the proper perspective.
Like most sporting and leisure activities, tennis means more to its devotees than might be suggested just by a description of its rules and regulations. After all, there is a lot more to football than a group of men running around bumping into one another in pursuit of an air-filled bladder wrapped in pigskin
. and baseball certainly involves more than is apparent from the players’ activities, such as standing around in. a field or sitting on a bench. However, tennis, because of its basic structure, involves a level of interaction and even intimacy between participants unequalled in most other sporting activities. It is more, much more, than two or four people running about smacking a ball back and forth to each other. Let us consider tennis from four viewpoints: as a reflection of life styles, as a form of communication, as an arena for game playing and as an cxpression of interpersonal satisfaction.
Tennis as a Reflection of Life Style
The tennis court can be viewed as a stage upon which the participants project their personalities. One’s preparations for the match, style of playing and keeping score, one’s relationship with the opponent, all reflect particular life styles and the way life’s challenges are met. In singles we see that attitudes, techniques and strategies for playing are similar to the person’s characteristic approach to other one-to-one relationships. Doubles also adds the cooperative and compctitive aspects of any couple relationship where teamwork is required.
Preparation for a tennis match parallels that for other lifesituations. Is it taken lightly, looked forward to, anticipated, or is it a source of anxiety, tension, worry? Does the player relax,
3 Lb} = So a & = LS) =) is] S S &D Ss = So 3 S 8 ~ So listen to music, nap, or eat . . . or does he pace, talk more or less than usual, act irritable, and show his emotions? Is his sense of humor persistent, or does it disappear on the court in the “heat of battle?” Does he “categorize” himself in relationship to his opponent, rating whether he is a better player (and, therefore, person), stronger or weaker, richer or poorer, more or less intelligent, or does he step into the tennis situation with self assurance and feeling a consistent sort of relationship with his opponent, regardless of the outcome?
Such information tells a great deal about the psychology of the individual and makes tennis something of a giant-sized
Rorschach card. One’s style of play thus becomes an expression of one’s personality and an indication of one’s values, needs, and temperament. For example, a crushing defeat can be as humiliating to some players as though their personhood had been attacked, causing them to recoup with numerous “facesaving’ gestures. Some will do almost anything to win, as Tiriac did in a Davis Cup Finals when he pulled out his “bag of tricks” to beat Forman — glaring at linesmen, sitting down, refusing to play, appealing for lets. His guile and deceit prompted American team-captain Ralston to say, as reported in Sports Illustrated, “This is the most disgraceful day in the history of the Davis Cup.”
The reader might be interested in testing out our thesis for himself the next time he is watching a tennis match. First try it out on someone you know well and see if his tennis style reflects the way you know him off the court. If that seems to work, you might want to speculate a bit on the personality of someone you don’t know by watching and paying close attention as to how he handles himself on the court.
Tennis as a Communication Medium
In addition to reflecting one’s personality and life style, tennis can also be useful as an analogue for communication and for describing some of the ways people relate to each other off the court. In order to look at tennis and communication we need to describe two important aspects of the latter. In every communication there is the message which carries the content or information and an accompanying meta-message which is an implicit statement about how the message is to be taken. The meta-message thus defines the nature of the relationship and how it is to be controlled. A simple statement such as, “You're wrong,” carries far more than its evaluative information. It implies that the sender has the right to confront the other person with his evaluation (something a slave, for example, would never take the position of saying to his master). What he says and the way he says it indicates, “This is the sort of relationship we have with each other.”
In tennis the ball is the message and the way it is sent is the meta-message. Around every point, each player attempts to maneuver the other into a court position such that he can gain control and achieve his objective, whether it is playing to win, playing for fun and exercise, sociability, or for improvement.
Similarly, in everyday relationships we strive through our communications to gain control and define the type of relationship we desire and a life position in which we are most comfortable. It’s illustrative to use tennis vernacular for describing various types of relationships. For example, the person who is extremely aggressive or assertive, and tries to win his arguments in a hurry, might be called a “net-rusher”. Or the individual who never seems to commit himself in a relationship but plays it safe by responding carefully and well within the limits of what’s socially acceptable might be classified as a cautious “backcourt lobber”. Then there’s the subtle remark which catches one off guard as though it were a “drop shot”. Or the irrefutable point in a conversation which no one can deny because of its power similar to an “overhead smash”. In effect, we tend to see ourselves in a certain basic life position relative to others which we then consciously and unconsciously set up and perpetuate through our methods of communicating. This is true whether were involved in tennis or other types of relationships.
A more popularized way of looking at interpersonal maneuvering, whether it’s on or off the tennis court, is through the use of “games”. Eric Berne’s book Games People Play focused attention upon a variety of “games” or manipulations occurring between people in the broad social context of our culture. Tennis, too, has its collection of special games in which the participants often find themselves enmeshed. Here are a few examples:
Now I Gotcha. One player maneuvers his opponent into a court position where he can win the point with a convincing put-away.
While this is routine in competitive tennis and gives one an extra psychological lift, there are some who enjoy putting their opponent down and derive satisfaction not only from winning, but being able to gloat over a crushing defeat. It’s like cashing in some old get-even stamps for a free gloat.
One example comes to mind. A tournament player who was soundly defeated 6-0, 6-1, obtained his revenge the following week on a slower surface where he tumed the tables and unexpectedly upset his opponent. With each smash it became more obvious how much he savored “getting back”.
The Name Dropper. This approach is used to gain status and advantage by relating past scores, victories or contacts with name players. The person sets himself up to be highly regarded by his opponent in order to gain a psychological advantage when they play. During a recent tournament I encountered an opponent who immediately attempted to impress and pressure me with talk of some of his recent “big wins”. It may have worked — I lost.
Sandbagger. The brief rallying period before a match starts can be used for more than warming up. Sometimes it serves to present a distorted version of the player’s real ability and style in order to lull his opponent. Some will verbally disparage their ability in the hopes of catching their opponent off-guard. During one college match we encountered a master sandbagger. His appearance was classical “country clod” with blue gym shorts, red baseball cap, and brown socks drooping around black basketball shoes. During the warm-ups he did not appear to be much of a threat as he used unorthodox strokes and projected a lackadaisical, almost indifferent attitude. Once the match began, however, this country clod quickly proved to be a tennis city slicker.
Upset. This approach is used to throw the other person off guard through distraction, double messages, surprise, unexpected tactics or interruptions of the game and if all else fails, some resort to verbal abuse. If effective, an opponent may even “blow his cool”. Many great players have used such upsetting, distracting, and zany tactics to get a psychological advantage over their opponent. While many say Nastase “hassles” and jokes continuously on the court, he prefers to call it “preparation”, where the element of surprise is one of his main weapons. It’s reported that Wayne Sabin occasionally threw his racket into the seats and rested while the ball boys fetched it. And Bobby Riggs, a master gamesman “who could con linesmen and quick serve with the best of the cuties,” has shown over and over again that tennis is indeed a game played with one’s mind as well as racket. Undoubtedly the reader, if he is a tennis player, can add his own favorite gamesmen to this list.
Tennis as an Intimate Relationship
It is also possible to see tennis as an “intimate” relationship where there are no games and manipulations, where one can be open and take risks, make mistakes, express feelings and empathize with the other person. In tennis this may occur when one does not need to prove anything about himself or his basic life position at the expense of the other person, and can temper his desire to win with a warm acceptance of his opponent, trusting his calls and feeling no need to “win at any price”. Thus tennis can include relationships at various levels, from a cold, impersonal ritual, to an activity or pastime, to “games within a game’, and finally to genuine intimacy. At this level the relationship has actually become more important than the game.
Intimacy in tennis is, of course, not automatic, but can be a goal that must be worked toward and continuously re-established just as the player works toward improving skills and winning. Letting go and taking risks is not easy in any relationship and can also be quite costly in a match. For example, consider the role of anger in both tennis and other interpersonal relationships. Appropriate anger and its expression are fine, but too much or too little can be upsetting for either a tennis game or interpersonal satisfaction. Even those at the professional level where winning is all important, express this desire for closeness, an example being Nastase wanting “to play until my opponent and I fall down with exhaustion. To beat him and then embrace”.
The experience of intimate relationships is lacking for many people in our culture. For some, tennis may provide a genuinely therapeutic possibility for the development of such relationships and the personal growth that can be the result.
If tennis is indeed a microcosm of the “real world” and the broader aspects of life, an interesting possibility arises: besides reflecting how the individual deals with life, might not the tennis court provide a “safe” setting for one to practice new ways of being, of living, of interpersonal relationships? We know that it is not enough just to think or talk about alternative ways of behaving, they must be practised and carried out, developed step by step through action. We can see and hear and read about our stroke, but it will not change until we practise it and actively involve our muscles, along with our mental images.
We discover that as we practise it and do it, change takes place. As it is in tennis, so it is in life. Perhaps there can be some carry-over from success in learning on the court to success in dealing with the broader problems of living.
Dr. Claude Frazier receiving a cup from Hal Burrows at a Spring 1974 tournament. Burrows, a former member of the Davis Cup Team, is the tennis pro at the Homestead.
Bessier, Armmold, 18 Bolliettieri, Nick, 106
Brown, Tom, 15 Budge, Don, 30 Burrows, Hal, 146
, C Carlson, Lawrence P., 26, 27 Cassals, Rosemary, 32
Moe 10, 11, 105-117 clutching up, 69, 75
Cobb, Brad, 30, 31 compulsive-disruptive response, 105, 107 compulsive response, 104 concentration, 11, 14, 15, 20,
24, 75, 77, 107, 123 consistency, 12 Court, Margaret, 114 cybernation, 33 cybernetics, 34, 48, 49
D desensitize, 73, 80 disruptive response, 101, 105 psychological, 108, 110 double fault, 17, 21, 76, 79,
Emerson, Roy, 126 epileptic, 33
F factor, psychological, 11, 12,
132 19;22> 52,94 fault, double, 17, 21, 76, 79,
93 Fisher, Dan, 29, 30 flat spin, 12 Frazier, Claude Albee, 16, 146 freeze, 69, 74, 79
G Gestalt, 93 Gonzales, Pancho, 30, 36, 89,
96 Goolagong, Evonne, 132 Gunter, Richey, 32
H Hoad, Lew, 78 Hopman, Harry, 11
I image, self-, 34, 35, 41, 42, 49
Athletic Motivation, 36, International Lawn Tennis
K King, Billie Jean, 13, 32, 39,
44, 46, 84, 92, 95 Kodes, Jan, 140 Krugger, Bjorn, 51, 52
Laver, Rod, 14, 35, 37, 38, 39,
M mental practice, 43, 45, 46,
Mulloy, Gardner, 21 Mufioz, Ramon, 50
N Nastase, Ilie, 26, 71, 74, 143,
144 Newcombe, John, 51, 52, 64
O Ogilvie, Bruce, 36 Okker, Tom, 97 Orantes, Ramon, 50
P placement, 12, 13 practice, mental, 43, 45, 46,
47, 48 psyche, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29,
88, 89, 117, 133 psyching up, 24, 75, 84, 86,
88, 120 psychological distraction,
108, 110 psychological factor, 11, 12,
13, 19, 22,52, 94 psychotherapy, 12
105 disruptive, 104, 105 impulsive, 104, 105 stroke, 107 Riggs, Bobby, 92, 144
Rosewall, Ken, 39, 45, 52, 57,
S Sabin, Wayne, 144 self-criticism, 18 self-image, 34, 35, 41, 42, 49
Smith, Stan, 10, 30, 74 Stolle, Fred, 81 stroke response, 107
T Taylor, Roger, 122 Tilden, Bill, 39, 40
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London Daily Express, via Canada-Wide teatoe WINNING TENNIS The Psychology Behind Successful Strategy
Just about everyone likes to win, and tennis players are no exception. In Mastering the Art of Winning Tennis, Dr. Claude Albee Frazier, a tennis enthusiast himself, presents the ideas of twelve experts who provide ample instruction in how to win with mind over matter. It is a book that will prove invaluable to the determined tennis player who sincerely wants to improve his game.
The mystique of the psyche-out and the art of gamesmanship are explored and resolved; character traits that make a winner — consistency, realism, discipline, and courage — are defined as they apply to the weekend player; and the whole new field of mind over matter is explained in a practical and applicable way.
Many tennis matches are won because of the psychological advantage one player either had before, or was able to gain during, the game. Better players often lose. Why is this so? How can you prepare yourself psychologically to win and to stay ‘‘psyched up’? That is what this book is all about. ;
Gladys M. Heldman, publisher of World Tennis Magazine, says:
“Dr. Claude Frazier is the most distinguished tennis-playing doctor on the literary tennis scene. His anthologies are always enjoyable and stimulating and this book will be CqUP au enas to anyone seeking to improve his tennis skills.”
Claude Albee Frazier has authored dozens of articles and books on both medical and non-medical subjects, including The Doctor’s Guide to Better Tennis and Health for which he was editor.
He was the two-time winner of Western North Carolina’s open doubles in 1972 and 1973, as well as runner-up in the American
_Medical Tennis Association tournament in 1973. Also in 1973,
“he was the winner of the “forty-five and over” men’s singles at
The Biltmore Forest Country Club in Asheville, North Carolina, where he lives.