“Watch the ball” is a phrase repeated endlessly by coaches and players of all levels from the hallowed grounds of Roland Garros and Wimbledon, to local parks and private clubs everywhere. Yet if we were truly failing to watch the ball, we’d regularly prepare to hit backhands while the ball is moving to our forehand side.
Clearly, this does not happen, so is there something else going on? What do we really mean when we say, “watch the ball” and why is something so seemingly simple, universally proving so difficult to actually do?
Our physical eyes are obviously on the ball—yet that alone does not seem to be enough to truly see it. My observation and suggestion to you, the reader, is that the biggest obstacle to seeing the ball is the mind. Let us explore this idea by first of all, briefly examining how the mind works.
The mind is a computer-like mechanism that operates in either the past or the future—recalling and lamenting that which has already occurred, or projecting hopes, fears, and ambitions of the uncertainty of things yet to be. Neither is real: the past is gone, and the future has not happened and impossible to know. The ball, however, moves in real time. This is the dilemma. Any mental activity—any thought about how or where to hit the ball—takes us away from real time, thus making it impossible to clearly see the ball.
Interestingly, we have no problem seeing the ball as it leaves our opponent’s racket and that is why players always move towards the general direction of the ball. We do this instinctively, when the mind is quiet because we have no attachment to the outcome yet, it is pure seeing.
However, as the ball travels toward us, tension rises as we prepare to get involved. That tension seems to be rooted in two sources: anxiety and doubt about the outcome of our shot, or fear and anxiety of what could happen, which is rooted in our past failures.
Clean contact with the ball requires correct rhythm and timing which can happen only if the mind is silent and we are fully present. If, because of thoughts we are entertaining, we are unable to see the ball from the moment it leaves our opponent’s racket up to the point when we begin our swing, it will be impossible to have good rhythm and timing.
However, this presence is not something we can force—it cannot be pursued or achieved through effort. After all, who would be making the effort? Mind would be doing the trying and so the absurdity of the situation becomes clear: mind would be trying to quieten the mind. Can we clearly see that this scenario is impossible; it cannot happen?
Trying seems to be aligned to achieving two major goals, both on the tennis court, and in Life: winning and, or, good performance. However, trying only makes sense if we have full control in making these things happen. So, do we have full control over winning and, or, playing well?
Most players are able to clearly see that we have no control over winning. The opponent is a major component in determining the result of a match and we have no control over how well another person plays.
The real problem comes because many players mistakenly feel that they have control over the way they play and at first glance, it does seem to appear that way. However, closer examination clearly reveals that this not true. After all, if we did, why would anyone make an unforced error or hit a double fault? The fact that poor play happens to all of us at times proves conclusively that we have no control over our performance.
If we are unable to understand that we have no direct control over these two things, we will constantly experience the pain of frustration and failure. Obviously, we can train our bodies harder and smarter and then, depending also on the mental and physical qualities we were born with (again, out of our control), we can increase the chances of those two things happening, but increasing chances are a far cry from guaranteeing success.
Once there is a full understanding that we have no control, our entire experience can change. For example, we have no control over the weather and we clearly know that. Consequently, when rain unexpectedly disrupts our plans, while we may experience a certain level of disappointment, that experience will pale in comparison to the frustration, anger, sadness or disappointment when we fail to win or miss a shot. This is because we mistakenly believe that we should have made the shot.
When the mind is still and the body takes over, an effortless quality permeates our actions, which then become smooth, precise, consistent and flowing. Many players describe the ball appearing to slow down—as if moving in slow motion. That is not an illusion; it is a reflection of their mind. A busy mind makes the ball seem to speed up because there are gaps in our seeing, while a silent mind lets us see clearly. The ball itself doesn’t change speed—only our perception of it does.
In my understanding, every unforced error is a mental error. When the mind is active, we leave the present moment—and clean contact becomes very difficult because we do not clearly see the ball. Players who think before points and after points must learn to be quiet during them. It is only in that silence that we can truly see the ball. And if we cannot see it, we cannot play our best tennis.
Enjoy the journey……