Tennis psychology is nothing more
than understanding the workings of your opponent's mind, and gauging the effect
of your own game on his mental viewpoint, and understanding the mental effects
resulting from the various external causes on your own mind. You cannot be a
successful psychologist of others without first understanding your own mental
processes, you must study the effect on yourself of the same happening under
different circumstances. You react differently in different moods and under
different conditions. You must realize the effect on your game of the resulting
irritation, pleasure, confusion, or whatever form your reaction takes. Does it
increase your efficiency? If so, strive for it, but never give it to your
opponent.
Does it deprive you of
concentration? If so, either remove the cause, or if that is not possible
strive to ignore it.
Once you have judged accurately
your own reaction to conditions, study your opponents, to decide their
temperaments. Like temperaments react similarly, and you may judge men of your
own type by yourself. Opposite temperaments you must seek to compare with people
whose reactions you know.
A person who can control his own
mental processes stands an excellent chance of reading those of another, for
the human mind works along definite lines of thought, and can be studied. One
can only control one's, mental processes after carefully studying them.
A steady phlegmatic baseline
player is seldom a keen thinker. If he was he would not adhere to the baseline.
The physical appearance of a man
is usually a pretty clear index to his type of mind. The stolid, easy-going
man, who usually advocates the baseline game, does so because he hates to stir
up his torpid mind to think out a safe method of reaching the net. There is the
other type of baseline player, who prefers to remain on the back of the court
while directing an attack intended to break up your game. He is a very
dangerous player, and a deep, keen thinking antagonist. He achieves his results
by mixing up his length and direction, and worrying you with the variety of his
game. He is a good psychologist. The first type of player mentioned merely hits
the ball with little idea of what he is doing, while the latter always has a
definite plan and adheres to it. The hard-hitting, erratic, net-rushing player
is a creature of impulse. There is no real system to his attack, no
understanding of your game. He will make brilliant coups on the spur of the
moment, largely by instinct; but there is no, mental power of consistent
thinking. It is an interesting, fascinating type.
The dangerous man is the player
who mixes his style from back to fore court at the direction of an ever-alert
mind. This is the man to study and learn from. He is a player with a definite
purpose. A player who has an answer to every query you propound him in your
game. He is the most subtle antagonist in the world. He is of the school of
Brookes. Second only to him is the man of dogged determination that sets his
mind on one plan and adheres to it, bitterly, fiercely fighting to the end,
with never a thought of change. He is the man whose psychology is easy to
understand, but whose mental viewpoint is hard to upset, for he never allows
himself to think of anything except the business at hand. This man is your
Johnston or your Wilding. I respect the mental capacity of Brookes more, but I
admire the tenacity of purpose of Johnston.
Pick out your type from your own
mental processes, and then work out your game along the lines best suited to
you.
When two men are, in the same
class, as regards stroke equipment, the determining factor in any given match
is the mental viewpoint. Luck, so-called, is often grasping the psychological
value of a break in the game, and turning it to your own account.
We hear a great deal about the
"shots we have made." Few realize the importance of the "shots
we have missed." The science of missing shots is as important as that of
making them, and at times a miss by an inch is of more value than a, return
that is killed by your opponent.
Let me explain. A player drives
you far out of court with an angle-shot. You run hard to it, and reaching,
drive it hard and fast down the side-line, missing it by an inch. Your opponent
is surprised and shaken, realizing that your shot might as well have gone in as
out. He will expect you to try it again, and will not take the risk next time.
He will try to play the ball, and may fall into error. You have thus taken some
of your opponent's confidence, and increased his chance of error, all by a
miss.
If you had merely popped back
that return, and it had been killed, your opponent would have felt increasingly
confident of your inability to get the ball out of his reach, while you would
merely have been winded without result.
Let us suppose you made the shot
down the sideline. It was a seemingly impossible get. First it amounts to two
points in that it took one away from your opponent that should have been his
and gave you one you ought never to have had. It also worries your opponent, as
he feels he has thrown away a big chance.
The psychology of a tennis match
is very interesting, but easily understandable. Both men start with equal
chances. Once one man establishes a real lead, his confidence goes up, while
his opponent worries, and his mental viewpoint becomes poor. The sole object of
the first man is to hold his lead, thus holding his confidence. If the second
player pulls even or draws ahead, the inevitable reaction occurs with even a
greater contrast in psychology. There is the natural confidence of the leader
now with the second man as well as that great stimulus of having turned seeming
defeat into probable victory. The reverse in the case of the first player is
apt to hopelessly destroy his game, and collapse follows.
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