Project Gutenberg surfs with a modem donated by Supra.
W >>
William T. Tilden, 2D >> Project Gutenberg surfs with a modem donated by Supra.
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12
The chop lob, which is a decided under cut, should rise from 20
to 30 feet, or more, high and must go deep. It is better to lob
out and run your opponent back, thus tiring him, than to lob
short and give him confidence by an easy kill. The value of a lob
is mainly one of upsetting your opponent, and its effects are
very apparent if you unexpectedly bring off one at the crucial
period of a match.
I owe one of my most notable victories to a very timely and
somewhat lucky lob. I was playing Norman E. Brookes in the fifth
round of the American Championships at Forest Hills, in 1919. The
score stood one set all, 3-2 and 30-15, Brookes serving. In a
series of driving returns from his forehand to my backhand, he
suddenly switched and pounded the ball to my forehand corner and
rushed to the net. I knew Brookes crowded the net, and with 40-15
or 30-all at stake on my shot, I took a chance and tossed the
ball up in the air over Brookes' head. It was not a great lob,
but it was a good one. For once Brookes was caught napping,
expecting a drive down the line. He hesitated, then turned and
chased the ball to the back stop, missing it on his return. I
heard him grunt as he turned, and knew that he was badly winded.
He missed his volley off my return of the next service, and I led
at 30-40. The final point of the game came when he again threw me
far out of court on my forehand, and, expecting the line drive
again, crowded the net, only to have the ball rise in the air
over his head. He made a desperate effort at recovery, but
failed, and the game was mine: 3-all. It proved the turning-point
in the match, for it not only tired Brookes, but it forced him to
hang back a little from the net so as to protect his overhead, so
that his net attack weakened opportunely, and I was able to nose
out the match in 4 sets.
Another famous match won by a lob was the Johnston-Kingscote
Davis Cup Match at Wimbledon, in 1920. The score stood 2 sets
all, and 5-3 Kingscote leading with Kingscote serving and the
score 30-all. Johnston served and ran in. Kingscote drove sharply
down Johnston's forehand side-line. Johnston made a remarkable
recovery with a half volley, putting the ball high in the air and
seemingly outside. A strong wind was blowing down the court and
caught the ball and held its flight. It fell on the baseline.
Kingscote made a remarkable recovery with a fine lob that forced
Johnston back. Kingscote took the net and volleyed decisively to
Johnston's backhand. Johnston again lobbed, and by a freak of
coincidence the ball fell on the baseline within a foot of his
previous shot. Kingscote again lobbed in return, but this time
short, and Johnston killed it. Johnston ran out the game in the
next two points.
If a shot can win two such matches as these, it is a shot worth
learning to use, and knowing when to use. The lob is one of the
most useful and skilful shots in tennis. It is a great defence
and a fine attack.
The strokes already analysed, drive, service, volley, overhead
and lob, are the orthodox strokes of tennis, and should be at
every player's command. These are the framework of your game. Yet
no house is complete with framework alone. There are certain
trimmings, ornaments, and decorations necessary. There are the
luxuries of modern improvements, and tennis boasts of such
improvements in the modern game.
Among the luxuries, some say the eccentricities, of the modern
game one finds (1) the chop stroke, (2) the slice stroke (a close
relative), (3) the drop shot, (4) the half-volley or "trap" shot.
All these shots have their use. None should be considered a stock
shot.
CHAPTER V. CHOP, HALF VOLLEY, AND COURT POSITION
I am called at times a chop-stroke player. I SELDOM CHOP. My
stroke is a slice.
A chop stroke is a shot where the angle towards the player and
behind the racquet, made by the line of flight of the ball, and
the racquet travelling down across it, is greater than 45 degrees
and may be 90 degrees. The racquet face passes slightly OUTSIDE
the ball and down the side, chopping it, as a man chops wood. The
spin and curve is from right to left. It is made with a stiff
wrist. Irving C. Wright, brother of the famous Beals, is a true
chop player, while Beals himself, being a left- hander, chopped
from the left court and sliced from the right.
The slice shot merely reduced the angle mentioned from 45 degrees
down to a very small one. The racquet face passes either INSIDE
or OUTSIDE the ball, according to direction desired, while the
stroke is mainly a wrist twist or slap. This slap imparts a
decided skidding break to the ball, while a chop "drags" the ball
off the ground without break. Wallace F. Johnson is the greatest
slice exponent in the world.
The rules of footwork for both these shots should be the same as
the drive, but because both are made with a short swing and more
wrist play, without the need of weight, the rules of footwork may
be more safely discarded and body position not so carefully
considered.
Both these shots are essentially defensive, and are labour-saving
devices when your opponent is on the baseline. A chop or slice is
very hard to drive, and will break up any driving game.
It is not a shot to use against a volley, as it is too slow to
pass and too high to cause any worry. It should be used to drop
short, soft shots at the feet of the net man as he comes in. Do
not strive to pass a net man with a chop or slice, except through
a big opening.
The drop-shot is a very soft, sharply-angled chop stroke, played
wholly with the wrist. It should drop within 3 to 5 feet of the
net to be of any use. The racquet face passes around the outside
of the ball and under it with a distinct "wrist turn." Do not
swing the racquet from the shoulder in making a drop shot. The
drop shot has no relation to a stop-volley. The drop shot is all
wrist. The stop-volley has no wrist at all.
Use all your wrist shots, chop, slice, and drop, merely as an
auxilliary to your orthodox game. They are intended to upset your
opponent's game through the varied spin on the ball.
THE HALF VOLLEY
I have now reached the climax of tennis skill: the half volley or
trap shot. In other words, the pick-up.
This shot requires more perfect timing, eyesight, and racquet
work than any other, since its margin of safety is smallest and
its manifold chances of mishaps numberless.
It is a pick-up. The ball meets the ground and racquet face at
nearly the same moment, the ball bouncing off the ground, on the
strings. This shot is a stiff-wrist, short swing, like a volley
with no follow through. The racquet face travels along the ground
with a slight tilt over the ball and towards the net, thus
holding the ball low; the shot, like all others in tennis, should
travel across the racquet face, along the short strings. The
racquet face should always be slightly outside the ball.
The half volley is essentially a defensive stroke, since it
should only be made as a last resort, when caught out of position
by your opponent's shot. It is a desperate attempt to extricate
yourself from a dangerous position without retreating. NEVER
DELIBERATELY HALF VOLLEY.
Notwithstanding these truths, there are certain players who have
turned the half volley into a point winner. The greatest half
volleyer of the past decade--in fact, one of the greatest tennis
geniuses of the world--George Caridia, used the stroke
successfully as a point winner. R. N. Williams, the leading
exponent of the stroke in the present day, achieves remarkable
results with it. Major A. R. F. Kingscote wins many a point,
seemingly lost, by his phenomenal half-volley returns,
particularly from the baseline. These men turn a defence into an
attack, and it pays.
So much for the actual strokes of the game. It is in the other
departments such as generalship and psychology that matches are
won. Just a few suggestions as to stroke technique, and I will
close this section.
Always play your shot with a fixed, definite idea of what you are
doing and where it is going. Never hit haphazard.
Play all shots across the short strings of the racquet, with the
racquet head and handle on the same hitting plane for ground
strokes and the head above the handle for volleys. The racquet
head should be advanced slightly beyond the wrist for ground
strokes.
COURT POSITION
A tennis court is 39 feet long from baseline to net. Most players
think all of that territory is a correct place to stand. Nothing
could be farther from the truth. There are only two places in a
tennis court that a tennis player should be to await the ball.
1. About 3 feet behind the baseline near the middle of the court,
or
2. About 6 to 8 feet back from the net and almost opposite the
ball.
The first is the place for all baseline players. The second is
the net position.
If you are drawn out of these positions by a shot which you must
return, do not remain at the point where you struck the ball, but
attain one of the two positions mentioned as rapidly as possible.
The distance from the baseline to about 10, feet from the net may
be considered as "no-man's-land" or "the blank." Never linger
there, since a deep shot will catch you at your feet. After
making your shot from the blank, as you must often do, retreat
behind the baseline to await the return, so you may again come
forward to meet the ball. If you are drawn in short and cannot
retreat safely, continue all the way to the net position.
Never stand and watch your shot, for to do so simply means you
are out of position for your next stroke. Strive to attain a
position so that you always arrive at the spot the ball is going
to before it actually arrives. Do your hard running while the
ball is in the air, so you will not be hurried in your stroke
after it bounces.
It is in learning to do this that natural anticipation plays a
big role. Some players instinctively know where the next return
is going and take position accordingly, while others will never
sense it. It is to the latter class that I urge court position,
and recommend always coming in from behind the baseline to meet
the ball, since it is much easier to run forward than back.
Should you be caught at the net, with a short shot to your
opponent, do not stand still and let him pass you at will, as he
can easily do. Pick out the side where you think he will hit, and
jump to, it suddenly as he swings. If you guess right, you win
the point. If you are wrong, you are no worse off, since he would
have beaten you anyway with his shot.
A notable example of this method of anticipation is Norman E.
Brookes, who instinctively senses the stroke, and suddenly bobs
up in front of your best shot and kills it. Some may say it is
luck, but, to my mind, it is the reward of brain work.
Your position should always strive to be such that you can cover
the greatest possible area of court without sacrificing safety,
since the straight shot is the surest, most dangerous, and must
be covered. It is merely a question of how much more court than
that immediately in front of the ball may be guarded.
A well-grounded knowledge of court position saves many points, to
say nothing of much breath expended in long runs after hopeless
shots.
It is the phenomenal knowledge of court position that allows A.
R. F. Kingscote, a very short man, to attack so consistently from
the net. Wallace F. Johnson is seldom caught out of position, so
his game is one of extreme ease. One seldom sees Johnson running
hard on a tennis court. He is usually there awaiting the ball's
arrival.
Save your steps by using your head. It pays in the end. Time
spent in learning where to play on a tennis court is well
expended, since it returns to you in the form of matches won,
breath saved, and energy conserved.
It is seldom you need cover more than two-thirds of a tennis
court, so why worry about the unnecessary portions of it?
PART II: THE LAWS OF TENNIS PSYCHOLOGY
CHAPTER VI. GENERAL TENNIS PSYCHOLOGY
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. Such players include J. C.
Parke, Wallace F. Johnson, and Charles S. Garland. 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. Such men as Harold Throckmorton, B. I. C. Norton, and at
times R. N. Williams, are examples, although Williams is really a
better psychologist than this sounds.
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. Few of us have
the mental brilliance of Brookes; but all can acquire the dogged
determination of Johnston, even if we have not his tennis
ability.
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.
It is this twist in tennis psychology that makes it possible to
win so many matches after they are seemingly lost. This is also
the reason that a man who has lost a substantial lead seldom
turns in the ultimate victory. He cannot rise above the
depression caused by his temporary slump. The value of an early
lead cannot be overestimated. It is the ability to control your
mental processes, and not worry unduly over early reverses, that
makes a great match player.
Playing to the score is the first requisite of a thinking match
player. The two crucial points in any game are the third and
fourth. If the first two points are divided for 15-all, the third
means an advantage gained. If won by you, you should strive to
consolidate it by taking the next for 40-15 and two chances for
game, while if lost, you must draw even at 30-all to have an even
chance for game.
In order to do this, be sure to always put the ball in play
safely, and do not take unnecessary chances, at 15-all or 30-15.
Always make the server work to hold his delivery. It worries him
to serve long games, and increases the nervous strain of the
match.
In the game score the sixth, seventh, and eighth games are the
crux of every close set. These games may mean 4-2 or 3-all, 5-2
or 4-3, the most vital advantage in the match, or 5-3 or 4-all, a
matter of extreme moment to a tiring player. If ahead, you should
strive to hold and increase your lead. If behind, your one hope
of victory rests in cutting down the advantage of the other man
BEFORE one slip means defeat. 5-2 is usually too late to start a
rally, but 4-3 is a real chance.
Never throw away a set because a player has a lead of 4-1, or
even 5-1, unless you already have two sets in a 5-set match, and
do not wish to risk tiring by trying to pull it out, and possibly
failing at 6-4. The great advantage Of 3-1 on your own service is
a stumbling-block for many players, for they unconsciously let up
at the fifth game, thinking they have a 2-game lead. However, by
dropping that game, the score will go 2-3 and 3-all if your
opponent holds service, instead of 1-4 and 4-2, thus retaining a
distinct advantage and discouraging your opponent in that set.
The first set is vital in a 2 out of 3 match. Play for all of it.
The second and third sets are the turning-point in a best of
5-set match. Take the first where possible, but play to the limit
for the next two. Never allow a 3 out of 5-set match to go to,
the fifth set if it is possible to win in less; but never give up
a match until the last point is played, even if you are two sets
and five games down. Some occurrence may turn the tide in your
favour.
A notable example of such a match occurred at Newport, in 1916.
Wallace F. Johnson and Joseph J. Armstrong were playing Ichija
Kumagae, the famous Japanese star, and Harold A. Throckmorton,
then junior Champion of America, in the second round of the
doubles.
It was Kumagae's first year in America, and he did not understand
Americans and their customs well. Kumagae and Throckmorton were
leading one set at 6-0, 5-1, and 40-15, Kumagae serving.
Throckmorton turned and spoke to him, and the Japanese star did
not understand what he said. He served without knowing, and
Armstrong passed him down the centre. Johnson duplicated the feat
in the next court, and Kumagae grew flustered. Throckmorton, not
understanding, tried to steady him without result, as Kumagae
double-faulted to Armstrong, and he, too, grew worried. Both men
began missing, and Johnson and Armstrong pulled out the set and
won the match in a runaway in the last stanza. Johnson and
Armstrong met W. M. Johnston and C. J. Griffin, the National
Champions, in the final and defeated them in five sets,
inflicting the only reverse the title-holders suffered during
their two-year reign as champions.
Another much more regrettable incident occurred in the famous
match between R. L. Murray of California and George M. Church of
New York in the fourth round of the American National
Championship in 1916. George Church, then at the crest of his
wonderful game, had won the first two sets and was leading Murray
in the third, when the famous Californian started a sensational
rally. Murray, with his terrific speed, merry smile, and genial
personality, has always been a popular figure with the public,
and when he began his seemingly hopeless fight, the crowd cheered
him wildly. He broke through Church's service and drew even amid
a terrific din. Church, always a very high-strung, nervous
player, showed that the crowd's partiality was getting on his
nerves. The gallery noticed it, and became more partisan than
ever. The spirit of mob rule took hold, and for once they lost
all sense of sportsmanship. They clapped errors as they rained
from Church's racquet; the great game collapsed under the
terrific strain, and Church's last chance was gone. Murray won
largely as he wanted, in the last two sets. No one regretted the
incident more than Murray himself, for no finer sportsman steps
upon the court than this player, yet there was nothing that could
be done. It was a case of external conditions influencing the
psychology of one man so greatly that it cost him a victory that
was his in justice.
The primary object in match tennis is to break up the other man's
game. The first lesson to learn is to hold your nerve under all
circumstances. If you can break a player's nerve by pounding at a
weakness, do it. I remember winning a 5-set doubles match many
years ago, against a team far over the class of my partner and
myself, by lobbing continually to one man until he cracked under
the strain and threw the match away. He became so afraid of a lob
that he would not approach the net, and his whole game broke up
on account of his lack of confidence. Our psychology was good,
for we had the confidence to continue our plan of attack even
while losing two of the first three sets. His was bad, for he
lost his nerve, and let us know it.
Sensational and unexpected shots at crucial moments have won many
a match. If your opponent makes a marvellous recovery and wins by
it, give him full credit for it, and then forget it, for by
worrying over it you not only lose that point but several others
as, well, while your mind is still wandering. Never lose your
temper over your opponent's good shots. It is bad enough to lose
it at your own bad ones. Remember that usually the loser of a
match plays just as well as the winner allows him. Never lose
your temper at a bad decision. It never pays, and has cost many a
match.
I remember a famous match in Philadelphia, between Wallace F.
Johnson, the fifth ranking player in America, and Stanley W.
Pearson, a local star, in the Interclub tennis league of that
city. Johnson, who had enjoyed a commanding lead of a set and
4-1, had slumped, and Pearson had pulled even at a set-all, and
was leading at 5-1 and 40-15, point set match. He pulled Johnson
far out to the forehand and came to the net. Johnson chopped
viciously down the side-line, but Pearson volleyed to Johnson's
deep backhand corner. Johnson had started RUNNING in that
direction as he hit his return, and arrived almost as Pearson's
volley bounced. Unfortunately Johnson slipped and went down on
both knees, but held his racquet. He reached the ball and chopped
it down the side-line for an earned point before Pearson realized
he had even offered at it.
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12