Jannik Sinner and Me
Jannik Sinner and Me
Last Thursday I went to the Miami Open, as I have done many times before. It was hard to get to, crowded, hot, expensive, and you had to wait forever to get into a court. I vowed not to come again—better to stay home and watch it on TV. I was watching a so-so match in the scorching heat with my friend Eddy. Then a rumor arose in the stands that Jannik Sinner, the world number 2, was on the practice courts. Abruptly, I left the stadium and repaired to the practice courts. The trouble was that his court was surrounded by fans, reverently watching; I couldn’t see him for the life of me, standing ten feet back from the fence. Eventually I found a chink in the sea of heads through which I could just see the Sinner face, so familiar to me from TV. At that moment I felt the whole trip had been worthwhile, though I couldn’t actually see him hit a ball. That is what tennis can do to you. However, as the minutes passed, the crowd in front thinned out to the point that after twenty minutes, I was right at the fence with a perfectly clear view of the man. Oh, heaven! I could happily watch him hit balls for a full half an hour. I studied his backhand carefully, shot after shot. I let it sink into my brain. I let his personality wash over me, cool as a cucumber. I observed his physique: very tall, very skinny. The whole day was vindicated. It had even begun to cool down. But I also picked up something new about the Sinner man: his walk—erect, calm, loose, giraffe-like. I determined to copy it and did so immediately the practice was over. Remember, I am five foot six and he is a good six four. Yet I got it: I can now do the Sinner walk. I showed it to a pal of mine (Jim) over at the tennis center yesterday, a retired coach. He saw it immediately and even tried to copy my copy, quite accurately. So, as a result of my trip, I can now walk around the tennis court looking like Jannik Sinner (I will keep working on my backhand). Life does sometimes offer small delights. And it is true that I felt his influence as I hit yesterday—a kind of calm controlled power. I channeled the great Jannik Sinner.
Where lies the difference between your backhand and Jannik Sinner’s backhand? (I mean where in the respective bodies. For that matter, the difference between Sinner’s backhand and Federer’s.)
I’m not sure what your question is, but his is a lot better than mine and Federer uses a one-handed backhand.
One-handed backhand, my favourite shot, and Federer’s was the most masterful and beautiful I’ve ever seen, but I’m talking about whatever it is that remains with the player overnight, or even after a few days of inactivity, that allows them to go out the next day and perform at the same level as before or maybe even (even especially) a bit better, not really the difference between one- and two-handedness. What is it exactly that allows a player to do that? It’s the differences in whatever that is that I’m wondering about. I’m not talking about flip answers like “muscle memory”; what are people talking about when they say things like that?
Gasquet’s was pretty impressive too. Isn’t what you are talking about common to many sports and other skills, e.g., playing an instrument? Actually, I feel it every day and am amazed by it–the way the body learns over time. I think: where did that come from? It’s a mystery. Muscle memory is rubbish: muscles don’t have memories, brains do (that control muscles).
@Nqabutho. That’s a nebulous comment.
Tennis mortals who love the game (as I do) believe they are going to play better every time they walk onto court regardless the last game’s result. Tennis gods are on a different level. They are endowed with a greater amount of that nebulous quality talent.
I saw that talent, nurtured by hard work, in the person of Jannik Sinner. Tennis does have a remarkable phenomenology. Self-love and self-hatred combined.
Who can gainsay how satisfying is the resounding smack and trajectory that comes off a perfectly struck tennis ball.
How true! I always slightly prefer my backhands to my forehands, perhaps because they feel more miraculous.
I mean It’s not like muscles responding to weightlifting. Development of a backhand stroke (and other skilled practices) involves precision adjustments when whatever it is is used in concrete interaction with the “open-ended manifold” of reality. It’s all in the brain, I would say, or the most important aspects of it are. ‘X’s backhand stroke’ is an identifiable component of a player X’s repertoire: where does it exist, mainly, is the question. (I would be interested in the difference between one- handed and two-handed, and the relation between them, in the case where a single player has developed proficiency in both.)
One-handed untouchable topspin backhand down the line, esp in a doubles context. Sweet.
Motor skills are mainly located in the brain, but of course the muscles need to be able to move the body appropriately. As it happens, I can and do play with one hand and two on both sides, mainly these days with two. Each has its advantages and disadvantages. The best is to be able to do both and I wonder why players don’t do that. I also slice with one hand or two on both sides.