I get cramps
Semi-Pro
TS - What did you lack to win Roland Garros, Jose?
JH - I was not a gifted player. I was aware of that when I was playing with some players who were much more adept than me and who I beat, at least mindful of most of them. I wasn't that good an athlete either. So, what I did was to go as high as I could. What I did was through will and desire.
Also, until late in my career, I barely played on fast surfaces, so they did not force me to understand the game any other way. In '80, I married an American girl, came to live in the U.S., and started training on cement all the time. In Palm Springs, there were no red clay courts. If I had made that change on purpose about five years earlier, my chances of winning in Paris would have been greater. I would get to the quarterfinals and semifinals at RG, but I would always run into someone who demanded a bit more of my game.
As a coach, my experience came in handy. I served better, and I understood how to play on the net. I insisted that my students play on all surfaces because each one teaches them how to do something well. In the old days, you had no choice but to have a good backhand slice and be able to serve and volley decently. Now, things have changed a lot because of the homogenization of the playing conditions, and you play almost the same everywhere.
As far as my training was concerned, I had no coach or physical trainer. I trained to the point of physical and psychological exhaustion, and it was very monotonous but without a complete or direct goal. Not necessarily will I be better at tennis training for more hours. I became increasingly aware of that as my career ended. I only set apparent aspects to perfection once I was over 25 (born in 1953). That's why that's precisely the only thing I ask of my students to fully engage in whatever we work on.
TS - Tell me about three greats you played against: Borg, Vilas, and Connors.
JH - Borg and Vilas had a game that was very familiar to me. Connors was a very different player. Borg is the only player I played, knowing I couldn't beat him. I had no way to destabilize him. I would play to see how long I could extend the match. We played the same game, but he was physically stronger than me by far, and his ball was heavier, so we played the best of 3 sets for about two and a half hours, but the score was a beating. If you played Borg on clay and the ball went over the net 3 or 4 times, your chances of winning the point were tiny unless you were a serve-and-volley player, preventing any rhythm in the match with Borg. You could not just return the ball to Borg; the return had to be fast-paced.
Guillermo was a step below Borg, and I had opportunities to destabilize him by luring him to the net. I could stay with him even though he was superior to me. He missed a little more.
Connors was a good matchup for me. He missed more than the previous two players, and I could induce his errors. I had a decent and solid backhand slice, which I repeated to his forehand. He had an excellent high forehand but little mobility when hitting low balls. But you have to always take advantage of these weaknesses that have players two steps above. Otherwise, they will beat you as it is natural. Whether you can beat them, I would sum it up in how you measure yourself with their game that day, not their character.
Now, let's be clear that despite being realistic and knowing I could not beat Borg, I would not go out on the court and have Borg have his exhibition with me. I would have Borg on the court as long as possible.
Sometimes, playing matches against certain players, I would win the first three games, and the battle was over. I felt it in the opponent, but I played with as much psychic and physical concentration as if I were playing against one of the best in the world.
TS - But, José, would you give the players that advice?
JH - Definitely! When you leave yourself in the hands of a player you can't beat, you lose that game, and you will play half of the next one. That message is fundamental for children, teenagers, and your students. On the circuit, everybody talks, and everybody knows everybody. Sometimes, playing matches against certain players, I'd win the first three games, and the battle was over. I felt it in the opponent, but I played with as much psychic and physical concentration as if I were playing against one of the very best in the world.
Eleven months ago:
TS - Jose, you retired in 1987, and the circuit changed remarkably. There were new champions (Becker, Edberg). Was their mentality the same as all the previous ones you knew, Jose? Did they share the same qualities? I don't care about the times, eh?
JH - A champion is a champion in any era. They have innate qualities, and they are non-negotiable. They must compete at the highest level, a non-negotiable point (interrupted).
TS - Could you explain, José?
JH - Champions are always looking for a better present state. Their satisfaction with an outstanding achievement is relatively short-lived. They constantly seek, seek, seek. With more outside and inside help. If we look at Wilander when he first won the French Open, and we looked at him when he became world number one, he was a different player. He could serve and volley, with good volleys and a backhand slice that didn't exist when he won in Paris as a teenager. Rafa is the same as Wilander. Borg ended up serving and volleying at Wimbledon with his two serves. Guillermo improved his volleys enormously. They can block outside interference, and they have such confidence in themselves that the most complex things they have worked on in training come out ideally in competition when they need them; while in training, they may have lost sets playing the best they can against people who are far below them in the ranking, but the latter, when they go out to compete in big courts, fall apart.
TS - Grips: At what age do you stop changing grips, Jose?
JH - I suffered from that issue.
I touch the grips as little as possible. And the better or older the player, the more reluctant I am to change a grip.
When I was 18 years old, I went to play in the Orange Bowl. I was one of the best juniors in the world and played everything with Continental. I won the Orange Bowl and went back to Barcelona.
In the Orange Bowl, I met two South African tennis players who hit some very aggressive topspin, and I was facing some very high balls on my backhand that I was having difficulty controlling. Lew Hoad, one of my heroes, had lived in Spain for years. When I saw Lew for the first time back in Spain, I told him: "Lew, I'm going to change my grip. I'm going to go from continental to semi-western." And Lew said, "You're crazy." I asked him why, and he told me I would probably never put another ball on the court. But because I'm pretty stubborn, I changed my grip. And for fifteen months, I stopped playing, and my habit was playing for eight hours daily. Against the wall, with the ball machine, against anyone. And I thought Lew was right. And I considered abandoning the idea of being a professional tennis player and limiting myself to teaching. Fortunately, my mother realized what was happening to me and, showing her concern for me, spoke to me, "Son, you've worked so hard to become a pro that I think you should give yourself a few more months to see if you achieve your goal." And the little ball went inside the boundaries of the court.
Of course, unlearning the sensitivity you've gained on one hand and developing a new one, an almost entirely different one, took me from a lousy state of mind to a great one. I then asked Lew: "How do you hold the racquet? "Eh, I don't know! If I play on grass, I grip it more here; if I play on clay, my grip closes a little more... And he went on. I mean, it was fascinating. [Laughs]
JH - I was not a gifted player. I was aware of that when I was playing with some players who were much more adept than me and who I beat, at least mindful of most of them. I wasn't that good an athlete either. So, what I did was to go as high as I could. What I did was through will and desire.
Also, until late in my career, I barely played on fast surfaces, so they did not force me to understand the game any other way. In '80, I married an American girl, came to live in the U.S., and started training on cement all the time. In Palm Springs, there were no red clay courts. If I had made that change on purpose about five years earlier, my chances of winning in Paris would have been greater. I would get to the quarterfinals and semifinals at RG, but I would always run into someone who demanded a bit more of my game.
As a coach, my experience came in handy. I served better, and I understood how to play on the net. I insisted that my students play on all surfaces because each one teaches them how to do something well. In the old days, you had no choice but to have a good backhand slice and be able to serve and volley decently. Now, things have changed a lot because of the homogenization of the playing conditions, and you play almost the same everywhere.
As far as my training was concerned, I had no coach or physical trainer. I trained to the point of physical and psychological exhaustion, and it was very monotonous but without a complete or direct goal. Not necessarily will I be better at tennis training for more hours. I became increasingly aware of that as my career ended. I only set apparent aspects to perfection once I was over 25 (born in 1953). That's why that's precisely the only thing I ask of my students to fully engage in whatever we work on.
TS - Tell me about three greats you played against: Borg, Vilas, and Connors.
JH - Borg and Vilas had a game that was very familiar to me. Connors was a very different player. Borg is the only player I played, knowing I couldn't beat him. I had no way to destabilize him. I would play to see how long I could extend the match. We played the same game, but he was physically stronger than me by far, and his ball was heavier, so we played the best of 3 sets for about two and a half hours, but the score was a beating. If you played Borg on clay and the ball went over the net 3 or 4 times, your chances of winning the point were tiny unless you were a serve-and-volley player, preventing any rhythm in the match with Borg. You could not just return the ball to Borg; the return had to be fast-paced.
Guillermo was a step below Borg, and I had opportunities to destabilize him by luring him to the net. I could stay with him even though he was superior to me. He missed a little more.
Connors was a good matchup for me. He missed more than the previous two players, and I could induce his errors. I had a decent and solid backhand slice, which I repeated to his forehand. He had an excellent high forehand but little mobility when hitting low balls. But you have to always take advantage of these weaknesses that have players two steps above. Otherwise, they will beat you as it is natural. Whether you can beat them, I would sum it up in how you measure yourself with their game that day, not their character.
Now, let's be clear that despite being realistic and knowing I could not beat Borg, I would not go out on the court and have Borg have his exhibition with me. I would have Borg on the court as long as possible.
Sometimes, playing matches against certain players, I would win the first three games, and the battle was over. I felt it in the opponent, but I played with as much psychic and physical concentration as if I were playing against one of the best in the world.
TS - But, José, would you give the players that advice?
JH - Definitely! When you leave yourself in the hands of a player you can't beat, you lose that game, and you will play half of the next one. That message is fundamental for children, teenagers, and your students. On the circuit, everybody talks, and everybody knows everybody. Sometimes, playing matches against certain players, I'd win the first three games, and the battle was over. I felt it in the opponent, but I played with as much psychic and physical concentration as if I were playing against one of the very best in the world.
Eleven months ago:
TS - Jose, you retired in 1987, and the circuit changed remarkably. There were new champions (Becker, Edberg). Was their mentality the same as all the previous ones you knew, Jose? Did they share the same qualities? I don't care about the times, eh?
JH - A champion is a champion in any era. They have innate qualities, and they are non-negotiable. They must compete at the highest level, a non-negotiable point (interrupted).
TS - Could you explain, José?
JH - Champions are always looking for a better present state. Their satisfaction with an outstanding achievement is relatively short-lived. They constantly seek, seek, seek. With more outside and inside help. If we look at Wilander when he first won the French Open, and we looked at him when he became world number one, he was a different player. He could serve and volley, with good volleys and a backhand slice that didn't exist when he won in Paris as a teenager. Rafa is the same as Wilander. Borg ended up serving and volleying at Wimbledon with his two serves. Guillermo improved his volleys enormously. They can block outside interference, and they have such confidence in themselves that the most complex things they have worked on in training come out ideally in competition when they need them; while in training, they may have lost sets playing the best they can against people who are far below them in the ranking, but the latter, when they go out to compete in big courts, fall apart.
TS - Grips: At what age do you stop changing grips, Jose?
JH - I suffered from that issue.
I touch the grips as little as possible. And the better or older the player, the more reluctant I am to change a grip.
When I was 18 years old, I went to play in the Orange Bowl. I was one of the best juniors in the world and played everything with Continental. I won the Orange Bowl and went back to Barcelona.
In the Orange Bowl, I met two South African tennis players who hit some very aggressive topspin, and I was facing some very high balls on my backhand that I was having difficulty controlling. Lew Hoad, one of my heroes, had lived in Spain for years. When I saw Lew for the first time back in Spain, I told him: "Lew, I'm going to change my grip. I'm going to go from continental to semi-western." And Lew said, "You're crazy." I asked him why, and he told me I would probably never put another ball on the court. But because I'm pretty stubborn, I changed my grip. And for fifteen months, I stopped playing, and my habit was playing for eight hours daily. Against the wall, with the ball machine, against anyone. And I thought Lew was right. And I considered abandoning the idea of being a professional tennis player and limiting myself to teaching. Fortunately, my mother realized what was happening to me and, showing her concern for me, spoke to me, "Son, you've worked so hard to become a pro that I think you should give yourself a few more months to see if you achieve your goal." And the little ball went inside the boundaries of the court.
Of course, unlearning the sensitivity you've gained on one hand and developing a new one, an almost entirely different one, took me from a lousy state of mind to a great one. I then asked Lew: "How do you hold the racquet? "Eh, I don't know! If I play on grass, I grip it more here; if I play on clay, my grip closes a little more... And he went on. I mean, it was fascinating. [Laughs]
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