AtomicForehand
Hall of Fame
I just had a really amazing and mysterious experience on the tennis court. Why do these things come and go?
I was playing a competitive league singles match against a very slim, fit, fast opponent--no slouch. For some reason I was completely in the zone serving-wise. I served 8 clean aces in the first set (including two 2nd-serve aces), and several unreturnables. I felt completely free and relaxed, like I could do no wrong. All the usual serves I use when I manage to hit an ace were there in spades, but I also effortlessly hit the corners of the box that I almost never hit aces to, as well as some spinny aces--even a new serve that I've only very recently even started to practice got me an ace. I'm telling you, I was golden.
Her shoulders just slumped after the third ace or so. She was a really good sport about it, offering me compliments after each great serve, but her whole body language was hopeless and sad, and she was clearly not having much fun. I actually felt terrible about it, and embarrassed.
Normally I hit two to four aces in an entire MATCH. To hit eight plus so many unreturnables in one set alone was just statistically an anomaly for me. I tried to tell her that I was just serving out of my mind that day and to make some kind of self-effacing joke after the last couple of great serves, but I bageled her in about 15 minutes (she won only a handful of points), and I knew she was feeling bad, and that made me feel bad.
In the second set, things changed. It was like someone just pulled the plug to the ace machine. I didn't hit another ace the whole set (and just two unreturnables). I didn't serve CRAPPY, but the magic had clearly gone as quickly and mysteriously as it had come. (I still won the set, but 6-3.)
I'm really interested to hear you guys' experiences with this phenomenon. Have you been in the zone before, and how/why do you think you got there? Is there anything you can do mentally to increase your chances of staying there?
I definitely think my feeling of freedom and relaxation was key to the brilliant serving (and the rest of the great playing that stemmed from it)--but I don't know how to recreate those feelings of freedom and relaxation, do you?
I also think that feeling bad for my opponent was key to slipping out of the zone. (She was just so noble about it, which is kind of what got me. If she had been snarky or complained that I was sandbagging, etc., maybe I could have ridden the wave longer...but I was just really touched by her efforts to say something nice to me each time, when it was clear she was feeling hopeless.)
This also got me thinking about people like Serena. (No, I'm not saying that my serving is anywhere close to Serena's, so you don't have to jump down my throat about that.) But it did give me a glimpse of what it must be like to have a weapon that is so overwhelmingly superior that your opponents feel helpless, and the kind of pressure this puts on the weapon-haver to continue wielding it, when even the weapon-haver doesn't think it feels like much of a fair fight. I would also like to hear your thoughts about how you keep your boot on the neck of an opponent to get the match DONE and keep wielding your weapon under such circumstances.
The psychology of tennis is fascinating, isn't it?
Thanks in advance for your replies.
I was playing a competitive league singles match against a very slim, fit, fast opponent--no slouch. For some reason I was completely in the zone serving-wise. I served 8 clean aces in the first set (including two 2nd-serve aces), and several unreturnables. I felt completely free and relaxed, like I could do no wrong. All the usual serves I use when I manage to hit an ace were there in spades, but I also effortlessly hit the corners of the box that I almost never hit aces to, as well as some spinny aces--even a new serve that I've only very recently even started to practice got me an ace. I'm telling you, I was golden.
Her shoulders just slumped after the third ace or so. She was a really good sport about it, offering me compliments after each great serve, but her whole body language was hopeless and sad, and she was clearly not having much fun. I actually felt terrible about it, and embarrassed.
Normally I hit two to four aces in an entire MATCH. To hit eight plus so many unreturnables in one set alone was just statistically an anomaly for me. I tried to tell her that I was just serving out of my mind that day and to make some kind of self-effacing joke after the last couple of great serves, but I bageled her in about 15 minutes (she won only a handful of points), and I knew she was feeling bad, and that made me feel bad.
In the second set, things changed. It was like someone just pulled the plug to the ace machine. I didn't hit another ace the whole set (and just two unreturnables). I didn't serve CRAPPY, but the magic had clearly gone as quickly and mysteriously as it had come. (I still won the set, but 6-3.)
I'm really interested to hear you guys' experiences with this phenomenon. Have you been in the zone before, and how/why do you think you got there? Is there anything you can do mentally to increase your chances of staying there?
I definitely think my feeling of freedom and relaxation was key to the brilliant serving (and the rest of the great playing that stemmed from it)--but I don't know how to recreate those feelings of freedom and relaxation, do you?
I also think that feeling bad for my opponent was key to slipping out of the zone. (She was just so noble about it, which is kind of what got me. If she had been snarky or complained that I was sandbagging, etc., maybe I could have ridden the wave longer...but I was just really touched by her efforts to say something nice to me each time, when it was clear she was feeling hopeless.)
This also got me thinking about people like Serena. (No, I'm not saying that my serving is anywhere close to Serena's, so you don't have to jump down my throat about that.) But it did give me a glimpse of what it must be like to have a weapon that is so overwhelmingly superior that your opponents feel helpless, and the kind of pressure this puts on the weapon-haver to continue wielding it, when even the weapon-haver doesn't think it feels like much of a fair fight. I would also like to hear your thoughts about how you keep your boot on the neck of an opponent to get the match DONE and keep wielding your weapon under such circumstances.
The psychology of tennis is fascinating, isn't it?
Thanks in advance for your replies.