Thoughts about Tennis Tradition...

[don_budge]

The Author is Tilden...your attitude is Orwellian.

For me, leave Tilden out any serious discussion about tennis. We have little to compare him with.

I haven't read Tilden tennis books but one imagines they must be archaic. I am willing to stand corrected but cannot seem to find one to read! If someone can scan an excerpt or two and post them in this thread, I would love to pass judgement.

Come on Stotty...don't be so lazy! Have a look in "Teaching Systems" here on the forum. There are seven articles...not the best of Tilden by any means but it will give you a little food for thought. To leave Tilden out of ANY discussion about tennis is preposterous.

http://essentialtennis.com/tournews/2010/01/book-review-how-to-play-better-tennis-by-bill-tilden/

This is a review for "How to Play Better Tennis...A Complete guide to Technique and Tactics" and it was "Match Play and Spin of the Ball" that Hopman and the Aussies considered to be "The Bible" back in their heyday. Either of these books can easily be obtained online. They are a must read for anyone that imagines themselves to be a tennis coach. You cannot truly begin an intelligent and balanced discussion about tennis without studying both. The truth and the tennis wisdom with which Tilden expounds upon is timeless and profound. While it is true that times and things have changed, you may be surprised how they have in some respects remained the same.

There is, of course, no such thing as a be-all and end-all on the vast subject of tennis knowledge but one must have a foundation upon which to build. A coach must have a rock solid foundation upon which to build. Knowledge is old in general...only the information technology is new. What we have today is rapidly turning into a "virtual reality" and the unsuspecting are walking unwittingly into a new world order of "virtual morality" (my word, my original concept...you heard it first on tennisplayer.net) of which no one is entirely certain as to what this exactly looks like. To automatically reject something as traditional as knowledge without even having had a look at it is a symptom of a new and frightening morality.

You are like a character straight out of Orwell's "1984" where everyone is trained to scoff at the teachings of the past and in fact the establishment sets about erasing the past just so they can guarantee that their take on the present does not have any competition. Orwell was a Brit who knew what was coming down the pipe. Have you read that book? If not...read it immediately before the Tilden books. It is more important than tennis.

[don_budge]

The Dance of Life...Tango on Brothers!

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.

I realize most people think such behavior is nuts and you’d do better hitting or playing with someone or working with a ball machine.

No you wouldn’t. The best you can do is a lonely court with no one around and a million balls to hit, just from a stop, if you want to think more than usual and value your own new ideas. Alternatively, you could take a shower.

A bunch of people brainstorming wouldn’t do better, it turns out. Frequently, the people in large brainstorming groups become even less creative than they already were, according to various studies. So hooray for us recluses. Or better, just be open-minded about each and every solitary experiment. Sometimes that means being very critical about it.

But I can’t see how anything that improves balance: tai chi, yoga, dance classes, etc., can ever be bad for tennis.

Well I for one do not think you are nuts. A lonely court and a million balls to hit...what is it my friend? Do you long for the call of the wild? A lonely court and a million balls to hit...reminds me of the old fictitious scenario that dictates that if you put enough monkeys in a room with enough typewriters that sooner or later one of them will type out the King James version of the Bible. You will get it right bottle...in fact, you already have it right. Make the effort...that’s the ticket. Your soul is telling me that you should of taken up golf a while back. It's never too late. My dear old coach, Sherman Collins told me one time in the past several years that he had this idea of hitting tennis balls from a stationary position and used this on his students to help them to generate a concept of where it all is coming from...the energy that is. Isn't funny how we as humans have found that taking a shower is one of the most redeeming moments in life? As if we could wash the sins off of our souls. I am at the point where less is better or as bottle puts it I would rather think more than usual, if you know what I mean. Might as well get comfortable with the dirt...the residue of life.

My, my, my...and now a big hurray for us recluses. A man after my own soul. I heard some author once write that "no man is an island". Well I say that every man is an island. Why else are we wandering around just praying that we will meet someone who will understand us? Tai chi, yoga, dance classes for tennis balance...yes, yes and what is more...life's balance...but the metaphor is there. Swinging from a balanced position in tennis or living life in a balanced position. Maybe just maybe this is why that I claim that tennis and golf are God's gift to mankind in terms of recreation. Life can be a real balancing act at times...there are certain moments when it is all hanging in the balance and we cling desperately for equilibrium...something to believe in. Djokovic and Nadal bared their souls to us the other night. Sometimes even we bare our souls...to a loved one for instance. Yes of course it is all "A Question of Balance" (The Moody Blues). Today I will go out into the forest and think to myself..."hurray for us recluses", no need to shout where nobody will here you. Come to think of it you could shout something like that in a crowd of people and nobody would really hear you. They might think you are crazy...but that's alright.

I know dear readers...what does this have to do with tennis? Why all of the philosophical psychobabble don_budge? Well there is a reason...a very good and valuable reason and this is one of the things that I am always attempting to sneak into my lessons. As bottle has danced around the question with his clever manipulation of words that paint little pictures in our minds, all of our activities are more or less a quest for balance. If you really care to go deep...it's about passion and understanding what love is and what is most important. In life...of course it is important to work and to earn a living but perhaps the most important is something a bit more symbolic, more ethereal than that. Take tennis for instance...it's a game isn't it, but do we really participate for fun or do we play for the illusion of the hunt? The passionate quest for love and understanding. Tennis players find the great paradox in this little riddle because they are dancing to the tune that love means nothing. Dance, bottle, dance...sway those hips, shuffle those feet and listen to the music. Don't think about it...go deep, let yourself slip even deeper into "The Journey to the End of the Night". Everybody try it...all together now. After all it's only one big boat. It is there that you will find the answers to the questions in the end. It is where few will dare to go. But be careful...it can get kind of lonely in there.

[don_budge]

Dawning is the Day...The Moody Blues

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.

One thing that has dawned on me over the past two weeks (I'm very slow to realise things but get there in the end) is that none of today's players know what to do once they find themselves at the net. They don't know how to "camp" over the net like, say, Nastase used to….or Gonzales….they have no idea how to cover the net. Today's players come to the net and stand there looking lost…in need of a guide dog. I worry approaching the net and volleying has become a game lost forever.... like some ancient lost language.

Well Stotty my boy...my friend. Here is something that dawned on me in 1976 or whenever it was that I encountered my first opponent with an oversized racquet. For me it was immediately clear, but for some it will take an eternity or they will never come to the realization...about reality. The gig was up. It was only a matter of time.

The game was fundamentally changed when there really was nothing wrong with it...except perhaps it was not generating enough money to satisfy the greed of the equipment manufacturers. Enter Howard Head. As I have said over and over...once you change the concept the dominoes will fall and this is what we are left with. The game today is all about speed and power, there is no denying it. Is that enough? Well it is for those that don't know any better...for those that are in denial that there was something more sublime, more artistic, something to render the souls of man in the old game. I suppose that since every individual feels that there is nothing they can do about it they submit...they go along to get along.

Many traditional things are going by the wayside these days and for the uninitiated they will slip away like a shadow into the twilight. Without a trace of evidence. Certainly one aspect of the tennis game that has gone the way of said shadows is the volley game and of course the approach game slid into the mulch pile with it. If you think this just some harmless side effect and you are apt to be complacent in accepting change as if it is all good...I feel sorry for you. Some things are worth fighting for in life...these are the things that you love with passion, all of your heart and would die for if push came to shove. Our children for instance. At least that feeling exists...literally speaking.

Funny that you mention a lost ancient language because you have only to look around you to see that books are becoming a thing of the past. Books are becoming lost in the modernization process. I suppose that is alright too...although I would never trade in the three years that I spent with my nose in the greatest literature of all time. It became my bridge from youth...to not so youthful. I didn't say old mind you. I read that the only thing that will survive in the end is video...this is sad testimonial.

My little story about the forest is rather metaphorical to most, as most modern day humans rarely see the inside of a forest or if they do, most likely they are on vacation or on a field trip. Some things will never change, that is until mankind succeeds in wiping out all of the trees. I spend a lot of time in the woods...a Thoreau wannabe perhaps, talking to the animals.

I am glad that you are complacent with the modern game but I for one say that they have gone too far. My immediate recommendation is to scale back the size of the racquets to 80 square inches for the pro's. You and I can continue to use the oversize to perpetuate the illusion we are still playing great tennis well past our primes. Me...my roots are in reality. I knew Don Budge when he was 57 years old. The same age as myself today. He was still hitting the ball so beautifully as I recall deep in the recesses of my memories...so sublime. I remember one moment, not so long ago where I was indulging myself a bit...virtual reality and morality style, I remember comparing my game to his and wondering how I might fare with him if our ages were equal. I had had a particularly good day playing my favorite game. But in the midst of my musing I looked down at my racquet and then I remembered fetching the old guy's racquet for him so that he might hit a few balls with me and I remembered the feel of the blunderbuss that he used...the 5' grip that was all wood and very heavy, no leather on the grip. That was in 1973 and everyone surely was using leather grips...but not "The Man", God bless his soul.

So go ahead and peer into the minds of man...but you are sort of wasting your efforts. Look deep into the soul for the reality of it all.

And thanks for the wonderful conversation, my friend.

btw...Dr. Julian, I only meant to say that I had Quixotic feelings...but who knows maybe I will change my sign on name to don_quixote. Which of course doesn't mean that I think of myself as Don Quixote anymore than I think of myself as Don Budge.

[stotty]

Nadal

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.



Stotty, Stotty...my boy, my friend. Oh please be so careful when throwing around comparisons like this. There is no solid ground for comparison. That was then and this is now. A different era...a different time...a different game altogether. You can hand it to the Spaniard if you want...he doesn't amuse me nor am I entertained by him. To me he is sort of a hallucination. An apparition. With him there is a huge question looming over his head and the question is...Steroids? PED's? Gamesmanship? You can probably lump them all in that question nowadays...such are the times. It's not only virtual reality...guess what? It's virtual morality time! Our sense of right and wrong has been significantly warped or altered by cyber space...a separate reality. Somehow the images on our television sets or in our computers are larger than life. It's beyond warped.

I agree it's difficult to make comparisons between players from different eras. The days of wooden rackets are long gone, along with the artistry that came with them. But I am justified in making comparisons of the human mind because minds can surely be compared throughout any era. I don't think the human mind changes over time like equipment does.

Borg and Gonzales were exceptional match players. Gonzales's feats are legendary. Borg's career is epitomised by Houdini escapes and an icy nerve. In their thrilling Wimbledon five set match, Borg was a set down to Mac and struggling like mad all through the second….yet somehow he hung on and took the set when the first break and set point turned up…just one chance…just one slip up from Mac, and he was in. That was Borg through and through…did things like that all through his career. Has anyone played a fifth set like Borg did in that match? I can think of no one.

Nadal is of the same mold. He has half the game of Fedrerer…as Borg had half the game of Mac. Nadal has one good shot, his forehand…he runs like mad…and is mentally very strong. That's it! What else has he? Over the best of three sets Federer has a good chance, but over the best of five sets he has virtually none. He simply cannot play well enough for long enough to put Nadal away. As soon as Federer's best level drops - as indeed it must over a long period - Nadal is in…their five set matches always ebb and flow like this…always.

Tactically you might be right about Federer. But I am not sure Federer's sliced backhand is as good as you think. I've watched him live a number of times at Wimbledon. He doesn't knife it like Rosewall or any of the wooden era guys used to. He can't make it shoot through like they did. On the other hand he did hit three squash-like sliced forehands when defending in the semi that did seem to rocket off the court surface…these inadvertently did put Nadal in a lot of trouble and he lost the point each time…so I can see your tactical logic if slice can be executed well enough. I am not sure Federer's backhand slice is telling enough to trouble Nadal, though.

I am not sure about all this steroids business. You're innocent until proven guilty in my book. But Nadal is the best match player of his era and one of the best ever. I am certain of that.

His gamesmanship is awful. I thoroughly dislike it. But it's the game itself that has to deal with that. I'd remove the right to bring a trainer on for a start. And one toilet break should suffice…no need for two. Let's enforce the 20 second rule…better still make it fifteen seconds. The game has the power to deal with Nadal and those like him…and it should.

Today's tennis is awesome. But at the same time it has never been so poor in some departments. The standard of volleying is woeful, and slice is a dying art. So, yes, I'm caught between two worlds and can only settle for appreciating the merits of both.

One thing that has dawned on me over the past two weeks (I'm very slow to realise things but get there in the end) is that none of today's players know what to do once they find themselves at the net. They don't know how to "camp" over the net like, say, Nastase used to….or Gonzales….they have no idea how to cover the net. Today's players come to the net and stand there looking lost…in need of a guide dog. I worry approaching the net and volleying has become a game lost forever.... like some ancient lost language.

[julian1]

The racket of Federer

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.



Stotty, Stotty...my boy, my friend. Oh please be so careful when throwing around comparisons like this. There is no solid ground for comparison. That was then and this is now. A different era...a different time...a different game altogether. You can hand it to the Spaniard if you want...he doesn't amuse me nor am I entertained by him. To me he is sort of a hallucination. An apparition. With him there is a huge question looming over his head and the question is...Steroids? PED's? Gamesmanship? You can probably lump them all in that question nowadays...such are the times. It's not only virtual reality...guess what? It's virtual morality time! Our sense of right and wrong has been significantly warped or altered by cyber space...a separate reality. Somehow the images on our television sets or in our computers are larger than life. It's beyond warped.



Well that is not going to happen sadly enough. Yes, it's true...I long for those days, even before Edberg's time. He too, was a product of the new game. But McEnroe...he was the real thing. He and Borg dueling in the twilight of yesterday. Those two characters juxtaposed against each other on the stage of the tennis court. Never again. In the twilight of classic traditional tennis. That was the last of it. Real tennis. The wooden Wilson Jack Kramer Pro Staff vs. the Donnay's of Borg. Real live wood taken from the forest. Wood that was alive for years...for centuries, forever. Wood that lived in the forest and heard the birds sing, felt the squirrels and their little paws scrambling over their branches. Don't wake me now. What are all of these things in our memories? I am hallucinating...I was just out in the forest myself listening to those same birds. Looking for squirrels. Remembering those days when I had the legs of a stallion and I wasn't afraid of anyone on the other side of the net. After all we were both playing with the same stick of wood...from the same type of forest. Maybe that is why it makes me sad when they are cutting down the trees.

Slowly it fades into the past. Another Nadal and Djokovic final in a tennis Grand Slam event. Played with oversized, state of the art graphite...with strings that apply so much spin to the ball on courts that are designed to receive that spin...which alters the technique of the champion, which alters the tactics of the game. Voila...presto magic. There you have it. Modern tennis. In all of it's shock and awe glory.

You are in awe of Nadal and Djokovic? I am not. I am still in awe of Gonzales, of Budge and McEnroe. Guys of that ilk. Life is like tennis I guess. Perhaps a little metaphorically speaking. Out with the old and in with the new. It's a cycle it seems. That apparently leads to nowhere in particular...like a squirrel chasing it's tail. Certainly I can admire the athleticism...come on now. I have seen it all. My father used to take me to Tiger Stadium and we would arrive at the park early sitting in the right field upper deck, just to watch Al Kaline throw strikes to the catcher from the outfield in pregame practice. That guy had a rifle for an arm. Today you have ARod, Maguire and Roger Clemons. Million dollar babies. Kaline refused to sign a contract with the Tigers in 1969 for a 100,000 dollars because he did not want to have his teammates resenting him, or upstage his manager. Such were the days when sports were about tradition, trust, loyalty and dedication to things bigger than the individual. Not just the almighty dollar.

Roger Federer is a product of the modern era make no mistake about it. He is a million dollar baby too. So far removed from the reality of "normal" life that if somehow he was plunged into it all of a sudden he might feel that he was drowning without all of his fame and fortune to keep him afloat. One ironic thing about Federer is that he is a victim of the whole charade as well. A lot of the most recent engineering took place on his watch. To his credit he adapted to a point. But in his own way he is stuck in the past. He plays with a tennis racquet that is ten percent smaller that his three closest rivals. Do you have a clear idea what the ten percent means over the course of a tennis match? Ten percent in the hands of trained professionals? In a game where you have "Hawkeye" settling disputes that are mere fractions of millimeters? The only thing that I find in him to be so wonderful...is the last remaining remnant of the game that I used to play and passionately loved. You should of seen me back then...willing to kill the intruders and impostors with their shiny huge Prince Graphites. The nitwits. The useless pawns. I hated them. Still do...sort of. One of my feet is planted in reality, I know what the score is. The other one is firmly planted in my dreams...my memories. I knew Don Budge you know. It was such an honor to know that man. I practiced with him back in 1973, I was an eighteen year old kid and only a counselor at his tennis camp, helping him get ready for the Senior Doubles at Wimbledon. He won you know. He and Vic Seixas beat Jaroslav Drobny, the left handed Czech and the Swedish Lennart Bergelin, Borg's old coach in the finals. I have my little place in tennis history...like all of us. But it's only human nature...to try and get a leg up. Call it cheating or hedging a bet. What ever...today anything goes as long as you can get away with it. It is what it is. Human nature that is. Old time tennis etiquette foreboded it. Budge would never of taken unfair advantage of his opponent...he with the long trousers with the shirt tail always meticulously tucked in. How is that physically possible? Is it possible that he was so in control, so smooth...so utterly cool? He was...I knew him up close and personal, in the flesh and not just as an electronic image on the idiot box or from you tube.

It's futile you know. I know it too. I am only Don Quixote waving my trusty old sword at the tsunami of progress. But just remember...with new technology, with every new invention, with the new way comes a curse. We can see it in our lives. In the people around us. In the world at large. It's always been like this I am told the only difference is that nowadays it is happening at an unprecedented speed. The rate of change is unprecedented and the odd thing is the younger ones have nothing to compare it to. Sadly...we see it in our children. Sadly...we see it in our treasured and beloved game of tennis. Recently...I saw something that made me think. It was a man who was so injured doing the thing that he loved best that he would not be able to participate in that activity any longer and when asked what he was going to do he replied from his hospital bed, gazing at the comely nurse who was tending to him with an extra bit of compassion as she was smitten..."I am going to find something that I love more than that". She smiled back at him.

What a champion! In the Game of Life! What will we do when the last remaining remnant of tradition is gone?

Just for the record
Wilson offered to Roger on MULTIPLE OCCASIONS frames much larger
than the current one.
He refused EVERY SINGLE saying that he does NOT have enough time
to switch
I am NOT sure whether the name Don Quixote applies only to you

[don_budge]

Hmmm...Squirrels and things.

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.

You have to hand it to the Spaniard - he's a great match player. He's phenomenal on the big points. He's up there with Pancho Gonzales and Borg as a match player.

Stotty, Stotty...my boy, my friend. Oh please be so careful when throwing around comparisons like this. There is no solid ground for comparison. That was then and this is now. A different era...a different time...a different game altogether. You can hand it to the Spaniard if you want...he doesn't amuse me nor am I entertained by him. To me he is sort of a hallucination. An apparition. With him there is a huge question looming over his head and the question is...Steroids? PED's? Gamesmanship? You can probably lump them all in that question nowadays...such are the times. It's not only virtual reality...guess what? It's virtual morality time! Our sense of right and wrong has been significantly warped or altered by cyber space...a separate reality. Somehow the images on our television sets or in our computers are larger than life. It's beyond warped.

We need another Mac or Edberg to come along.

Well that is not going to happen sadly enough. Yes, it's true...I long for those days, even before Edberg's time. He too, was a product of the new game. But McEnroe...he was the real thing. He and Borg dueling in the twilight of yesterday. Those two characters juxtaposed against each other on the stage of the tennis court. Never again. In the twilight of classic traditional tennis. That was the last of it. Real tennis. The wooden Wilson Jack Kramer Pro Staff vs. the Donnay's of Borg. Real live wood taken from the forest. Wood that was alive for years...for centuries, forever. Wood that lived in the forest and heard the birds sing, felt the squirrels and their little paws scrambling over their branches. Don't wake me now. What are all of these things in our memories? I am hallucinating...I was just out in the forest myself listening to those same birds. Looking for squirrels. Remembering those days when I had the legs of a stallion and I wasn't afraid of anyone on the other side of the net. After all we were both playing with the same stick of wood...from the same type of forest. Maybe that is why it makes me sad when they are cutting down the trees.

Slowly it fades into the past. Another Nadal and Djokovic final in a tennis Grand Slam event. Played with oversized, state of the art graphite...with strings that apply so much spin to the ball on courts that are designed to receive that spin...which alters the technique of the champion, which alters the tactics of the game. Voila...presto magic. There you have it. Modern tennis. In all of it's shock and awe glory.

You are in awe of Nadal and Djokovic? I am not. I am still in awe of Gonzales, of Budge and McEnroe. Guys of that ilk. Life is like tennis I guess. Perhaps a little metaphorically speaking. Out with the old and in with the new. It's a cycle it seems. That apparently leads to nowhere in particular...like a squirrel chasing it's tail. Certainly I can admire the athleticism...come on now. I have seen it all. My father used to take me to Tiger Stadium and we would arrive at the park early sitting in the right field upper deck, just to watch Al Kaline throw strikes to the catcher from the outfield in pregame practice. That guy had a rifle for an arm. Today you have ARod, Maguire and Roger Clemons. Million dollar babies. Kaline refused to sign a contract with the Tigers in 1969 for a 100,000 dollars because he did not want to have his teammates resenting him, or upstage his manager. Such were the days when sports were about tradition, trust, loyalty and dedication to things bigger than the individual. Not just the almighty dollar.

Roger Federer is a product of the modern era make no mistake about it. He is a million dollar baby too. So far removed from the reality of "normal" life that if somehow he was plunged into it all of a sudden he might feel that he was drowning without all of his fame and fortune to keep him afloat. One ironic thing about Federer is that he is a victim of the whole charade as well. A lot of the most recent engineering took place on his watch. To his credit he adapted to a point. But in his own way he is stuck in the past. He plays with a tennis racquet that is ten percent smaller that his three closest rivals. Do you have a clear idea what the ten percent means over the course of a tennis match? Ten percent in the hands of trained professionals? In a game where you have "Hawkeye" settling disputes that are mere fractions of millimeters? The only thing that I find in him to be so wonderful...is the last remaining remnant of the game that I used to play and passionately loved. You should of seen me back then...willing to kill the intruders and impostors with their shiny huge Prince Graphites. The nitwits. The useless pawns. I hated them. Still do...sort of. One of my feet is planted in reality, I know what the score is. The other one is firmly planted in my dreams...my memories. I knew Don Budge you know. It was such an honor to know that man. I practiced with him back in 1973, I was an eighteen year old kid and only a counselor at his tennis camp, helping him get ready for the Senior Doubles at Wimbledon. He won you know. He and Vic Seixas beat Jaroslav Drobny, the left handed Czech and the Swedish Lennart Bergelin, Borg's old coach in the finals. I have my little place in tennis history...like all of us. But it's only human nature...to try and get a leg up. Call it cheating or hedging a bet. What ever...today anything goes as long as you can get away with it. It is what it is. Human nature that is. Old time tennis etiquette foreboded it. Budge would never of taken unfair advantage of his opponent...he with the long trousers with the shirt tail always meticulously tucked in. How is that physically possible? Is it possible that he was so in control, so smooth...so utterly cool? He was...I knew him up close and personal, in the flesh and not just as an electronic image on the idiot box or from you tube.

It's futile you know. I know it too. I am only Don Quixote waving my trusty old sword at the tsunami of progress. But just remember...with new technology, with every new invention, with the new way comes a curse. We can see it in our lives. In the people around us. In the world at large. It's always been like this I am told the only difference is that nowadays it is happening at an unprecedented speed. The rate of change is unprecedented and the odd thing is the younger ones have nothing to compare it to. Sadly...we see it in our children. Sadly...we see it in our treasured and beloved game of tennis. Recently...I saw something that made me think. It was a man who was so injured doing the thing that he loved best that he would not be able to participate in that activity any longer and when asked what he was going to do he replied from his hospital bed, gazing at the comely nurse who was tending to him with an extra bit of compassion as she was smitten..."I am going to find something that I love more than that". She smiled back at him.

What a champion! In the Game of Life! What will we do when the last remaining remnant of tradition is gone?

[bottle]

~

I don't know much about drugs except for all the hippie-dippie freaks in Eastport and then my Hungarian friends two or three decades later. Saw a person or two in Winston-Salem very damaged from over-the-counter stuff. Oxy..., oxy... can someone fill in the rest of the syllables? I think you'd die within six minutes if you took any kind of drugs and then tried to row a crew race.

[stotty]

A friend of mine who is a a cycling coach and also a good tennis player thinks the benefits of drug taking in tennis are really quite small and not worth the risk.

Cycling is relentless, a drone, you peddle, peddle, peddle as fast as you can for as long as you can. It's all physical, so if you can be fitter and stronger than other cyclists the benefits are huge...the lure of drugs is enticing. Athletics is much the same.

Tennis is stop and start stuff. There is rest between rallies and changeovers. Because of this you can get as fit as you need to be without having to cheat. You can get naturally fit enough to be able to recuperate from even the most energetic rallies, then start again 20 seconds later...or 30 seconds if you are Nadal.

That said, nature is far from fair. Gilles Simon weighs just 70 kilos and is built like spaghetti, Tsonga is 91 kilos and built like an ox. Is that fair? You tell me...

[don_budge]

Tommy...The Who

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.

"Speaking the truth in times of mass deception is in itself a revolutionary act."-George Orwell

WARNING: Truth Zone Ahead

Thank you Tommy of TPAtennis for having the guts to engage in this story.

So I ask you...all of you. Is this what we are passing down to the next generation? To "G", westcoast777, drichards, The Wolfpack in Norfolk, and all of the rest?

Yannick Noah is a hero in my book. He has put himself in the crosshairs now and soon he will be a candidate for the cross itself. He loves the game of tennis with all of his heart and soul. He has "Don Quixote" in his genes...in his DNA. You cannot buy that. Ironically, that is his crime. I confess...I am a co-conspirator. I love the game with all of my heart. Don Budge, Sherm Collins and my father passed that along to me...if nothing else. Noah's conscience will not allow him to embody the cheating that is taking place. He is not specifically calling out the Spanish, although they certainly have drawn a lot of attention to themselves. Yannick's own countrymen Tsonga and Monfils are prime suspects as well...in fact, at this point no one is above suspicion. Between the equipment, the betting and the drugs...tennis has very little credibility to those that attempt to discern beyond the story being dished up by the mainstream media and the rest of the politically correct pack.

I wonder how he felt about the Prince racquet back in 1980? The way that the tennis establishment handles this tough little bit of information and the way that the tennis community goes along with it is a prime example as to how the soul of tennis was sold down the river some thirty years ago. Nobody made a peep. The sheople did not stir.

Beware the WMD...weapon of mass deception.

If you wish to enhance your "metabolism" even further...throw some of these ingredients into you pie. To say that you have no evidence is like claiming that you cannot read, you cannot see or it is basically saying that you just don't care about the truth and do not wish to discuss it. Well, I can understand that...if I was in your position. I wonder what Wilander would say. This is the sort of atmosphere that allowed Richard Gonzales, he with the Aztec face, to be abused for so many years. You will never know the hurt he suffered. The information circus. People turn their back on the truth if it doesn't fit into their comfort zone. And that's the truth! About tennis...about drugs...about people...about war...about race relations...about Thanksgiving Day... about all of those subjects that are so difficult to discuss because they are so damn sensitive. What we won't do for a good nights sleep...to ease ourselves down into our own little cozy "Journey to the End of the Night", Ferdinand Cèline style. Conspiracy theories my butt.

I have no idea what the answer to all of this is. Baseball went through an agonizing scrutinization of the sport some years back and the revelations will certainly put a taint on that sport forever. I cannot imagine that the sport is any cleaner now...they just get better at cheating. It's the nature of the beast. Is that why we don't talk about these things? Because of the taint? bottle...can you help me out here? tennis_chiro? liscensedcoach? johnyandell? Anyone? Dear Lord...

A. Exogenous Anabolic Androgenic Steroids (AAS):
1-androstendiol
1-androstendione
bolandiol
bolasterone
boldenone
boldione
calusterone
clostebol
danazol
dehydrochlormethyltestosterone
desoxymethyltestosterone
drostanolone
ethylestrenol
fluoxymesterone
formebolone
furazabol
gestrinone
4-hydroxytestosterone
mestanolone
mesterolone
metenolone
methandienone
methandriol
methasterone
methyldienolone
methyl-1-testosterone
methylnortestosterone
methyltrienolone
methyltestosterone
mibolerone
nandrolone
19-norandrostenedione
norboletone
norclostebol
norethandrolone
oxabolone
oxandrolone
oxymesterone
oxymetholone
prostanozol
quinbolone
stanozolol
stenbolone
1-testosterone
tetrahydrogestrinone
trenbolone
B. Endogenous Anabolic Androgenic Steroids (AAS):
androstenediol
androstenedione
dihydrotestosterone
prasterone
testosterone
C. Other Anabolic Agents:
clenbuterol
selective androgen receptor modulators (SARMs)
tibolone
zeranol
zilpaterol

[don_budge]

Great Motion...tennis_chiro in action!

Don's Serve 1985

http://www.youtube.com/user/GlobalTennisDC#p/u/5/Tmoqsgiag3g

Just two things...Don, what kind of racquet it that?

Notice the comments by Naburg...I get a dishonorable mention. I never could figure out what Naburg was talking about...never a clue. Never once offered any constructive advise. Not once.

What a superb service motion! You may as well see the rest of the point played out to give you some indication about the man...and the legend.

http://www.youtube.com/user/GlobalTennisDC#p/u/26/xv6cdI6-QtY

[don_budge]

Timing is everything....

Unbelievable...Justin Verlander just announced as the Cy Young Award winner. Another strike for Detroit tennis...I mean baseball!


http://www.freep.com/article/20111115/SPORTS02/111115044/Tigers-Verlander-unanimous-pick-Cy-Young?odyssey=tab|topnews|text|FRONTPAGE

[don_budge]

Dear bottle...Take me out to the Ballgame.

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.

Dear bottle...

Do I really think that will happen for me? No. But we here in the U.S. have the example of big league pitching in baseball, so similar to great serving in tennis.

And each pitcher has a hundred tics. Steal the right one and...

Your comments in Stotty's "Let's develop a Serve" have been particularly searing lately. Searing as in producing the white light that is inspiration. I wrote a post some weeks back that I believe I posted briefly but then took back...somehow I didn't feel that tennisplayer.net was ready for it. Be that as it may...I wish that I had the original newspaper article from the Detroit Free Press, but here are my comments anyways...comments from the original article are bolded and italicized.



I ran across this article about Justin Verlander who is a pitcher for the Detroit Tigers. When I was growing up I wanted to be a baseball player because my father was at one point a professional baseball player in the Tiger farm system. One of the positions that I played the most was a pitcher. Having this background in throwing a ball and learning to pitch to different batters helped me to develop as a server in the game of tennis. Some of the comments are particularly insightful if you can understand what they mean if they are interpreted into the domain of tennis.

Verlander was not at his best Thursday. It didn't matter. His off nights are better than most guys' best now.

Great servers can on an off day produce enough good stuff to hold their serves.

He throws a fastball, curveball, slider and change-up, and he makes opposing hitters so miserable that he might as well throw an ax, a dart, an anvil and an alimony lawsuit at them.

Great servers have a variety of spins, speeds and locations to keep the receiver guessing and off balance.

He has taken the leap to dominance this year, and he has done it because he no longer worries about being dominant.

Great servers have a confidence about their serves and just as this comment suggests, their dominance gets better as they let go of the feeling that they must be dominant. More importantly they possess great patience.

Verlander struck out 10 Mariners on Thursday, but he didn't give you the sense that he was trying to strike them out. In the seventh and eighth innings, when he notched strikeouts No. 9 and No. 10, he looked "effortless," Leyland said.

“Effortless” is a key aspect of the great server’s motion and general overall attitude. The motion is so good it gets better when less muscle is applied to get in the way of its fluidity.

Verlander always has believed, instinctively, in his own greatness. His preparation is bar none.

Practice and hard work is of course a primary ingredient to great serving and the idea of preparation cannot be over developed.

This almost got in the way for a while. Verlander would get too amped up and try to strike everybody out, especially if he got in trouble.

Trying to hard is counter productive and learning to relax when you are behind 0-30 or 15-40 and consistently producing great service is a hallmark of the great server.

Against Seattle, Verlander was not at his best early. Avila said he focused on "scaling back, being able to locate."

Knowing when you don’t have the “big Boomer” and learning to win service guile is another indication of the great server. Patience...once again.

Verlander famously throws hardest late in games, and Avila pointed out that he does it without getting wild. Fatigue does not seem to affect him.

Great servers have a tendency to get better as a match wears on. This was even more important before the invention of the tie break.

And now that Verlander is pitching as well as he always thought he would, he has a controlled confidence that makes him downright scary.

Great servers know that they are going to hold serve...they expect to. This puts additional pressure on the opponent to hold their own serve.

Technique is or course a huge part of the overall serving equation...without a perfect and repeating motion it is impossible to sustain the type of control that is necessary to dominate your service game. Complete confidence in your technique allows one to implement tactics that will consistently prove to be winning strategies. Domination of the service game brings a lot of confidence to the rest of a tennis players game and all of the different facets tend to get even better.

[don_budge]

Ken Rosewall...offensive vs. defensive footwork

You do realize that Rosewall's nickname came like so many other Aussie nickname's with the characteristic Aussie humor, probably from Hopmann.

...is a vital part of Muscles' effortless power. It comes from hips as much as shoulders, but the shoulders and head are very still through the contact zone and a little beyond. That was part of his unparalleled accuracy with that shot.
don

Oh really...I thought the nickname was actually "Mussels" and he got it from Hopman after an episode of gastric-intestinal food poisoning as a result of eating some tainted seafood. Just kidding...you are correct as usual, Sir Tennis_Chiro.

Your comment about the shoulder turn and the hips is so illuminating...let's take it just a step further. Let's talk about feet. The swings that are presented as evidence by Cruz and Waltke are two very different swings...as you can see from the footwork.

http://www.tenniscruz.com/content/view/27/27/

Cruz is presenting a swing that is a virtual match to your description of the shoulder turn. Notice the position of the feet...front foot mere inches in front of the rear...Muscles has lined up this shot and played it with less spin, probably deep into one of the corners and clearly it is a subtly more offensive shot that is designed to knock his opponent off balance and set him up for further havoc.

http://www.tennisplayer.net/members/classiclessons/trey_waltke/the_slice_backhand/the_slice_backhand.html

Waltke has presented a more defensive shot...played with more spin as evidenced in the manner that Kenny is following through with the face of the racquet and notice the position of the feet and the path of the shoulders. Seeing that he probably had less time to set up, his feet are in less than optimal position as his front foot is significantly forward of his rear foot, therefore his racquet path and shoulder turn are noticeably different than the Cruz sequence. This shot could also be designed to create further havoc to his opponents next shot...thus the strength of the Ken Rosewall backhand. Deception from defensive positions as well as "unparalleled" accuracy. Notice how he swings his back foot into alignment after his shot...this is an integral part of the aiming process even though the shot has already been struck...it's an afterthought.

“Ken has shucked left hand down wooden racket shaft toward right to fulcrum for the teeter-totter”-bottle...hmmm, very interesting tennis speak.

[don_budge]

Thanks John...great to hear that coming from you!

tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.

It's so great. But it has to be read out loud.

That whole map thing has come to fruition...I couldn't of said it better myself. But I guess that I did say it, didn't I? This business about the underspin off the forehand side is next. Approach shots, volleys, lobs and drop shots. Touch. He has the foundation but we are talking the pursuit of perfection here. Pure underspin off the forehand side. It will be a nice complement to his drive forehand...he pounds it flat and with spin. A little more complicated than the backhand side. Coaches? Ideas?

Thanks tennis_chiro, aka The Donald. Like chuck62...I think you are awesome. You're right...the direction to start looking for this little pearl is in Jack Kramer's era. Those names that you mentioned all possessed this shot...they were all products of the Kramer era. I guess all that I have to do is stick with the model here...Richard Gonzales. Come to think of it...why not Gonzalian or would it be Gonzales-esque? He had this shot. What do you say, tennis_chiro? How about it bottle...my fellow "nutcase"? Stotty? worldsbestcoach? tpatennis? 10splayer? johnyandell? Can you guys help me paint a picture here...for underspin off the forehand? The wrist and the position of the shoulder makes this shot a bit dicey, don't you think?

So now the kid...young Gustaf has developed for himself a dandy of an underspin backhand. It's definitely Rosewalian. He's rolling it and driving it, too. Thumb up the handle, it's Budge-esque. I wanted him to develop the underspin first but he chose to take on the overspin himself. So be it. I like that about him. He's already the Captain of his ship. Plus he is really fast...and strong. He's perfect sized for a tennis player. Extremely intelligent. Very quiet. There's nowhere for me to go now...no weak link in his chain that I can exploit. The service motion just recently smoothed out the last little quirk...the little hitch at the top finally seems to have disappeared. Soon it will be kick serves. With Stan Smith tactics. Two more years and he is kicking some serious butt...if he sticks with it. We're not done yet.

Speaking of being the Captain of his ship. My partner at the club left to pursue a career in real estate. Great guy...his leaving created a void, which of course creates an opportunity at the same time. Gustaf's two practice partners, Olof and Philip, also left as they are graduated from school and have both moved on to pursue other things. This left Gustaf with a decision to make...he could of gone over to the rival club which has twice the number of courts. Moved on to greener pastures. But he decided to stick with me so he becomes a coach himself. Now I am training him how to teach as well. Plus he becomes the role model for the program. This is how it's done. It's Hopmanesque.

At this point I have let go of the reins. When he decided it was going to be topspin off the backhand first...I got out of his way. But of course I never let up on insisting that the underspin was the key to the whole shebang. I am still the voice in his ear...Merlin wizard style. Of course, I was right too. No brainer. I had a talk with his parents some months not so long ago. I told them that Gustaf is a different animal now. No longer a boy...he is a young man.

Recently he has confided in me that he has a bit of a girlfriend. No wonder he has been looking off in the distance a bit lately. A little dreamy. He's growing up. My next talk to him will not be necessarily about tennis...but about being a hero. If he is a bit "in love" now, he will begin to understand a couple of other things...about life. About tennis. About how it is all connected...by the three dots, Ferdinand Céline style.

[bottle]

~

It's so great. But it has to be read out loud.