Resilence and Choking: Federer vs. Cilic Wimbledon Match

Yesterday Roger Federer narrowly avoided being eliminated from Wimbledon at the hands of Marin Cilic. He was down two sets to none and even had a couple match points against him. Yet he prevailed. We think that Roger has nerves of steel and therefore never chokes but he did shank several balls, revealing that, yes, even Roger is human. In fact, I read a book on Federer recently that reveals he was very temperamental as a junior player. He had temper tantrums that made John McEnroe look mild. If he lost a match he would cry and pout for a while afterwards. Roger made a conscious decision to change his ways and become more Stoic.

This post by Allen Fox talks about how Roger handled choking by not panicking.

I should add that if there was anything to learn from this match it was that you can choke and still win as long as you don’t get rattled about it. And the topic of “courage” comes up when people think about choking. In my opinion, it doesn’t show courage to not be nervous and make the big shot on the big point. It takes courage to choke on the big point, not get upset about it; fight your way to another big point; and finally come through, either by making a good shot or your opponent missing.

Fox's point can apply to other situations beyond sports. That it's OK to tighten up under pressure as long as you recognize it and keep trying to do your best.
 

Late To The Ball: Tennis and Relationships

I just finished reading Late To The Ball by Gerald Marzorati, a former editor of the New York Times Magazine, in which he tells his story about taking up tennis in his early 60s and the lessons he learned, both in terms of technique/tactics and lessons about himself. I liked his book (and the clever title) very much. He started playing singles competitively but toward the end of the book he shifted to play doubles. He quotes an email from his wife on the differences between singles and doubles that I like.

“Singles is a fearsome struggle for independence at best; at worst it is a denial of the other’s humanity. But doubles is different. A devoted team can help each other grow so much. You’re talking about fellowship, and the delicate, intricate, wondrous balance between autonomy and dependency.”

I think her description of the dynamics of doubles actually applies to relationships in general whether it’s friendships, family or marriages.

I also think her depiction of singles is a bit harsh. I’m sure many people who play competitive singles do indeed want to impose their will on their opponent. I lean more toward Tim Gallwey’s idea that a goal of playing tennis, whether it’s singles or doubles, is to bring out the best in yourself. To do that you need the best from your opponent. Therefore playing ultimately is a cooperative exercise. I figure if you’re playing on the professional circuit your goal is strictly to win, rise in the rankings and make enough money to survive, without being concerned how your opponent feels about losing. The same for playing in USTA amateur leagues and tournaments. Yet, I noticed at the very top of the pro ranks (Djokovic, Nadal, Federer and Murray) there is mutual respect and appreciation for a well-played match. Even in the mixed doubles USTA matches I played this winter (for the first time in my tennis career at the age of 65!), there usually is mutual respect. Most of my opponents were fair and friendly. A few resorted to gamesmanship in an attempt to get into my head. (Good luck finding anything in there!) But overall all four of us on the court were looking for a competitive, well-fought match.

Getting back to Marzorati book, you could also take the title to mean arriving late to a ball as in a formal dance party. Whether or not this double meaning was intentional I’d say the second meaning of the “ball” is appropriate too. Playing tennis can be thought of as a dance.