Can size, power and experience be enough to propel a 4.0-rated player to victory against a gifted 11-year-old? Andrew Friedman puts his tennis skills to the test against a rising junior star.
I knew it was a losing enterprise when I realized that the best outcome required me to defeat an 11-year-old girl.
Nonetheless, there I was, on the main show court at the IMG Bollettieri Tennis Academy, facing off against Mary Beth Hurley, a junior then ranked 101st nationally, in a best-of-three-set showdown. The purpose of this absurdist confrontation? To see what can be learned when the brain and brawn of a 40-something hacker is pitted against the superior technique of a professionally trained player one-quarter my age.
Mary Beth arrived at the court, a slight, 4-foot-9 kid with braces on her upper teeth and a visor with Melanie Oudin?s autograph scribbled in one corner. The Novi, MI, native looked harmless enough and sounded unthreatening. Her polite speech punctuated with nervous giggles. Heck, she was precious. But I have to admit: I was afraid. A late bloomer, I?ve only been playing roughly as long as Mary Beth had been alive, and I?ve never received anything like the instruction she gets on a daily basis.
The warm-up set me at ease. Under a potent Florida sun, I instantly found my form. But when I realized I was hitting the ball harder than Mary Beth, I felt uncomfortable. Should I have asked for an older opponent? Should I have requested a guy?
My sympathies were misplaced. She won the racquet spin and elected to serve first. As soon as the battle began, the shy, giggly kid was replaced by a focused competitor, one whose shots had more purpose, direction and topspin than they had a few minutes prior. And she had the disposition of a veteran: I?d look up from retrieving a ball between points to find her planted on the baseline, ready to serve, her gaze imperious, her ball bounce signaling impatience.
This fierce demeanor was matched by steely, steady play. I, on the other hand, was a study in uncertainty, committing four unforced errors to forfeit the first game. As we switched sides, her diminutive height came into high relief. I?d never been so conflicted onthe court: My instinct to fight to the death was mitigated by a question of what constituted fair play against a preteen, and of the opposite gender, no less. My first service game was a festival of errors into the net that found me down 0-2.
I silently scolded myself, resolved to be more aggressive. Who cares that she?s eleven? She?s a ranked player. And now she?s drawn first blood. It was on.
But after I went up 30-0 on her next service game, Mary Beth elevated: a quality approach to her backhand brought a pinpoint passing shot that dipped hopelessly out of reach. Peppering the corners harder didn?t help matters?she got to everything, then turned the tables and ran me side to side. Between points, I?d look up to see her collecting herself, her eyes trained on her strings, just like a pro. It was intimidating.
Clearly, the statistical truth that had seen me through so many recreational contests?more points are won at the club level with errors than winners?had no application against this future pro who wasn?t going to miss, at least not much, certainly not unless I forced her to, which seemed unlikely. I was left with a puzzle to solve, and fast: How do you beat somebody this much better than you when you can?t out-steady them?
Mentally, I found my game and had my moments?an ace, a lunge-volley winner, and a backhand down the line that she barely moved for. But those are just three points; a single game requires four. Even though the rallies grew longer?10 or 12 shots longer?most of them ended with her maneuvering me out of position and passing me with a devastating crosscourt backhand, or with me finally committing an error. She clobbered me, taking the opening set 6-0.
Reflecting at the changeover, I realized that I?d been playing a profoundly stupid match. I had abandoned my game plan of pummeling my own first serves, teeing off on my returns (most 11-year-olds can?t generate enough pace and rotation to threaten you with their delivery), and employing as many drop shot-lob combinations as I could muster to exploit her lack of height.
Wolfing down a banana, I wondered where that plan had gone. I couldn?t quite put words to the answer, but instinctually I knew that I?d have to go so outside my comfort zone, for such a sustained period of time, to win a game?let alone games?that if I followed that high-risk strategy, I might soon wind up in a spiral of unforced errors and mounting frustration. The score line might be the same, but the points would be shorter, without hope. It would be ugly.
For the second set, I came out with the simple goal of playing a little better. And for a moment, it nearly worked: In the first game, I got up 40-love on Mary Beth?s serve before putting two timid returns into the net on my way to blowing the opportunity. I blinked and was down 0-3, 0-40, but I got back to 30-40. The next point seemed like an endless corner-to-corner rally. My slice backhand kept me alive, my forehand pushed her wide. The prospect of pulling up to deuce seemed like a pi�ata of possibility. But the point had become a workout unto itself. Forced to end it, I unleashed a go-for-broke forehand six inches too long down the line. Game over.
Finally, at 5-0, I managed to hold serve. I glanced across the net and spied Mary Beth looking at her strings with what I perceived as even greater focus. Was this a late-breaking reprieve? A bit of charity? I?d seen my share of junior tennis and knew that closing out matches was a common Achilles? heel. Were things looking up for me?
The answer was an emphatic ?no.? She closed me out efficiently in the next game, and the match was over: 6-0, 6-1.
After we cooled off and rehydrated, I asked her a question: ?Did you learn anything playing against me??
?Not really,? she said. ?It was kind of an easy match for me.?
?Well, what could I learn from you??
?Hit more up and backs, more angles, and then a loopy ball. Mix it up more.?
Schooled by an 11-year-old. As if to make me feel better, she pointed out that she?d be 12 in just a month.
Back home, I became obsessed with the match. I had allowed Mary Beth to win our mental battle by becoming afraid to take the risks necessary to win. I was going to lose that day in Florida, but I could?ve at least altered my strategy. I promised myself that I would strive to win every match until the end.
In my next contest, at 4-4, my opponent went up 30-0 on my serve. Normally, I would?ve played conservatively, but I unloaded my two biggest first deliveries of the day, holding, then playing even more aggressively to break for the win. Afterward, I realized I?d done something I never had before?between each of those crucial points, I had gazed down into my strings, finding my focus there. Just like Mary Beth.
Originally published in the March 2011 issue of TENNIS.
Source: http://feeds.tennis.com/~r/tenniscom-features/~3/bMRM3yk4yWE/
No comments:
Post a Comment