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by Jeff Greenwald, M.A., MFT.
Even though by some standards I was excelling in
the game, for years I had felt as though I wasn't
tapping my potential. How did I know this? I would
hold back on my shots when the score became close. I would miss
my best shots that I made in practice just a day before. I would
lose matches after leading. I found myself worrying constantly whether
I would win or lose a match, which often made me nervous and play
worse.
After years of periodic frustration, curiosity,
and armed with a degree in both clinical and sports psychology,
I landed on what I believed was the root of the problem—fear. Fear
of making a mistake. Fear of a “missed opportunity.” Fear of losing.
Fear of my own disappointment. Fear of not receiving validation
from others.
Enter Awareness—The “Old” Paradigm
When I finally faced the truth about what I was choosing
to do on the court and became aware of my unrestrained
ego, my experience in competition began to shift. As you can imagine,
this process involved some self-reflection. As I did this, questions
began to emerge. What might I be capable of if I didn't hold back?
This was almost enough for me. But, there were more questions. What's
different about me when I'm playing my best? What does it really
feel like when I'm loose? Do I really
have as much to lose as I think? Don't I actually lose more and
feel worse when I play tentatively anyway? At an even deeper level,
having given my heart and soul into the game for years, an even
deeper fear emerged. What if I were to regret the way I played the
game when I stop competing one day? This thought shook me to the
core.
Mats Wilander won three slams
in a calendar year but still admitted he had more fun cutting
the grass than playing tennis. |
As these questions flowed in, so did examples of other players
experiencing similar challenges and disappointments. A sectionally
ranked junior worrying that if he lost a match he would not get
into a good college and might become homeless. A former Grand-slam
semi-finalist, ranked #5 in the world at one time, telling me, “Jeff,
the truth is I feel like a failure. I never reached #1 and that
kills me. This became quickly etched in my memory and made me think,
“If this player thinks he was a “failure” is there ever a time where
any of us can say we feel good about our efforts?”
My next thought was, “If this player feels disappointed with his
success perhaps there is another measure that would be more satisfying?”
My hunch was confirmed after Mats Wilander reached the pinnacle
of the game as the number one ranked player in the world and announced
“I have more fun cutting the grass than playing tennis.”
Add to this the numerous and painful matches we all viewed among
the game's elite. Mal Washington blowing a 5-1 lead in the fifth
set in the semi-finals of Wimbledon against Todd Martin. The infamous
match where Novotna served at 5-1 in the third set of the U.S Open
Final and lost. The list goes on and one. “Even the best choke,
too,” I thought. Fascinating. What is going on here? And how much
control do we really have?
As my old, very result-oriented paradigm approach to the game became
clearer and clearer, I started noticing how others were also caught
in this “result-trap.” After I came off the court, there was usually
only one question waiting for me: “Did you win? Or “How did you
do?”
“There it is again,” I thought. As I am sure you know, I was certainly
not the only one confronting this. It was happening everywhere.
It didn't take me very long to figure out that if I was going to
accomplish my desire of experiencing the feeling of tapping my potential
and feeling good about it along the way, a new paradigm had to emerge.
An Alternative Paradigm
After contemplating my recent epiphanies about how
fear was impacting my mind and my game, and
seeing how this thought process pervaded the psyche
of almost anyone I came in contact with, I began to get excited
about going against the grain. “If virtually everyone I know is
fixated on winning or losing,” I thought, “then I'm going to take
another tact.” After all, Mats and my former #5 world-ranked friend
were only miserable after making millions of dollars and reaching
the pinnacle in the game so I'm going down another road,” I concluded.
What began to change as I shifted my perspective?
I began to embrace the feeling of nerves and pressure. I began to
experience more joy while competing. My perspective widened and
I could focus more on what was “relevant” while playing. I could
stay in the moment from point to point longer. I wouldn't get as
upset over errors and could move on quicker. I was less in my head
and more in my body.
John McEnroe once said, "Everybody
chokes." But top players have the ability to play every
point in the moment and go for their shots. |
The result: My best days began to replicate. I would
hit consistently deeper. I would win the “big” points more often.
I could hit harder without losing the consistency. The speed on
my serve increased because my arm was looser. I won more and reached
the pinnacle of the game in my age group—number one in the world
in singles, #1 in the U.S men's singles and #1 in the U.S in doubles
in 2002.
Other than the age group, the only difference between
Mats and me was that I wanted to keep playing because it was a blast.
I experienced the ultimate win-win in my mind—I reached my potential
and enjoyed it all along the way. The last ten years playing under
this paradigm taught me more about myself, life, and tennis than
the first 20.
In the following five articles
I will be taking you step-by-step through the five principles that
helped me play the best tennis of my life. I hope you join me on
this path so, you, too can experience what it's like when you feel
as though you are tapping your potential.
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