Part 6 (1/2)
Tennis psychology is far more than the effect of certain shots, made or missed, on the player. One can sum up such things by saying that every kill gives confidence, every error tends to destroy it. These things are obvious. The branch of psychology that is interesting is the reaction on the various players of different courts, different crowds, and other players.
There is a peculiar atmosphere about the centre court at Wimbledon that is unique in my knowledge of the game. Certain players revel in it. The majority do not feel it, and since they do not sense it, they find only the material disadvantages of rather bad light, and much noise from the stand, and dislike the centre court. Personally, I enjoy playing on the centre court at Wimbledon more than any court I have ever stepped upon.
The traditions of the great players of the past, the notable personages that make up the parties in the Royal Box and Committee Box, the honour of a visit from their Majesties the King and Queen, and, above all, the generous, non-partisan, sportsmanlike att.i.tude of the British public, make it a unique privilege to enter the centre court in champions.h.i.+p compet.i.tion.
These things inspire the mind to an almost abnormal keenness. It is this atmosphere that made N. E. Brookes, Anthony F. Wilding, A. W. Gore, R. F. and H. L. Doherty more dangerous there than anywhere else. It is this factor that spurs on J. C. Parke and A.
R. F. Kingscote to their greatest tennis to-day.
The great champions.h.i.+p turf at Forest Hills, where the American Champions.h.i.+p is held, offers a unique contrast to Wimbledon.
The age of Wimbledon is its great attraction. It is the spirit of youth, of progress, of business-like mechanical perfection of management, and the enormous crowds and attendant enthusiasm that is the chief attraction at Forest Hills. Fully 15,000 were present on the closing day of the event in 1919. Orderly, courteous, enthusiastic, but partisan, the American tennis public comes out to cheer on its favourite. No people in the world appreciate visiting players more whole-heartedly and none do more for their comfort than the American people. It is partisan, personal, sporting friendliness, warmer yet not so correct as the manner of the British public, that the Americans give. We have much to learn from our British friends. Yet I hope we will never sacrifice the warmth of feeling that at times may run away with us, yet in the main is the chief attraction of the American people. It is this enthusiasm that spurs on the men to their greatest efforts in the National Champions.h.i.+p.
The Australian team, Norman E. Brookes, Gerald Patterson, Randolph Lycett, and R. V. Thomas, who visited the United States, in 1919, scored a unique personal triumph. The whole gallery present at the notable match in the Champions.h.i.+p, when Patterson went down to defeat in a terrific 5-set struggle with W. M.
Johnston, rose and cheered Patterson as he walked off the court.
It was a real ovation; a tribute to his sportsmans.h.i.+p, and an outburst of personal admiration. Brookes was the recipient of an equal demonstration on his final appearance at Forest Hills. The stimulus of the surroundings produced the highest tennis of which these men were capable.
Yet in all champions.h.i.+ps it is the personal element that is the moving factor. Personalities are the deciding force in popularity. Patriotism is partially submerged in personality.
The Davis Cup matches bring out the gamest struggles in the history of tennis. It is in these unique series of matches that the fame of Anthony F. Wilding, Norman E. Brookes, J. C. Parke, B. C. Wright, M. E. M'Loughlin, and others reached its crest. It was the unselfish giving of one's best, under all conditions, for the honour of the country that called out the finest tennis in each man. Parke reached his crest in his memorable defeat of Brookes. M'Loughlin has never quite equalled his marvellous game of 1914 against Brookes and Wilding.
It is the psychology of patriotism that brings out this tennis.
Personality is submerged. Unity of purpose as a team, replaces the object of personal glory that is the keynote of champions.h.i.+p.
It is the friendly rivalry of sport, between such men as form the backbone of tennis in each country, that does more for international understanding than all the notes ever written from the White House.
I could go on writing tennis psychology as explained by external conditions for hundreds of pages, but all I want to do is to bring to mind a definite idea of the value of the mind in the game. Stimulate it how you will, a successful tennis player must admit the value of quick mind. Do it by a desire for personal glory, or team success, or by a love of compet.i.tion in matching your wits against the other man's, but do it some way.
Do, not think that tennis is merely a physical exercise. It is a mental c.o.c.k-tail of a very high ”kick.”
CHAPTER VII. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MATCH PLAY
The first and most important point in match play is to know how to lose. Lose cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman. This is the first great law of tennis, and the second is like unto it--to win modestly, cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman.
The object of match play is to win, but no credit goes to a man who does not win fairly and squarely. A victory is a defeat if it is other than fair. Yet again I say to win is the object, and to do so, one should play to the last ounce of his strength, the last gasp of his breath, and the last sc.r.a.p of his nerve. If you do so and lose, the better man won. If you do not, you have robbed your opponent of his right of beating your best. Be fair to both him and yourself.
”The Play's the thing,” and in match play a good defeat is far more creditable than a hollow victory. Play tennis for the game's sake. Play it for the men you meet, the friends you make, and the pleasure you may give to the public by the hard- working yet sporting game that is owed them by their presence at the match.
Many tennis players feel they owe the public nothing, and are granting a favour by playing. It is my belief that when the public so honours a player that they attend matches, that player is in duty bound to give of his best, freely, willingly, and cheerfully, for only by so doing can he repay the honour paid him. The tennis star of to-day owes his public as much as the actor owes the audience, and only by meeting his obligations can tennis be retained in public favour. The players get their reward in the personal popularity they gain by their conscientious work.
There is another factor that is even stronger than this, that will always produce fine tennis in champions.h.i.+p events. It is the compet.i.tive spirit that is the breath of life to every true sportsman: the desire to prove to himself he can beat the best of the other man; the real regret that comes when he wins, and feels the loser was not at his best. It is that which has made popular idols of Anthony F. Wilding, M. E. M'Loughlin, and other famous players. It is the great attraction of J. C. Parke, A. R. F.
Kingscote, W. M. Johnston, Andre Gobert, W. Laurentz, and many other stars. It is the sign of a true sportsman.
The keen compet.i.tive spirit that stimulates a match player also increases the nervous strain. This should be recognized by tournament committees, and the conditions of play should be as nearly standardized as weather permits.
A tournament committee should never keep a player waiting for an important match to commence while they scour through the crowd for linesmen. These necessary, and I trust useful, accessories to every match of importance should be picked and on hand when the players appear. A good linesman is a great aid to match tennis. A poor one may ruin a great battle. Not only will bad decisions turn the tide by putting a point in the wrong columns, but slow decisions will often upset players, so they dare not play to the line kept by slumberous linesmen.
A linesman should take his first judgment as the ball strikes. If outside he should call ”out” at once clearly, decisively, but not too loudly; a yell is often a shock to the nerves. If the ball is good he should remain discreetly silent.
The umpire should announce the score after each point in a voice sufficiently loud to be heard by the entire gallery. His decisions as to ”lets” or b.a.l.l.s ”not up” should be made only loud enough to ensure that they are heard by the players. The gallery has eyes. Following each game, the game score should be called, giving the leading player's name and the set being played. For example, ”Four games to three, Parke leads. Second set.” About every third game following the completion of the first set, an announcement as to the winner of the first set is an excellent idea. The umpire could add to the above announcement, ”First set, Parke, 6-3.” This latter announcement is unnecessary when there is a score board that gives full details of the match.