Forced Errors

I’ve been thinking that professional tennis commentators talk all day about unforced errors and winners, but the majority of points are forced errors, especially at the amateur level.

We hackers know. We know how hard it can be to hit the open court, for example, against a jackrabbit opponent who fetches every ball, even when you get him on a string. Maybe you don’t miss your shot because you suck — even though that’s what you probably tell yourself — but because your opponent forced you to attempt a too-difficult (or perfect) shot in overcompensation for his speed.

I thought of this kind of thing recently after a conversation with one of my hitting partners, George W., a retired teaching and hitting pro, who also coaches high school tennis. I’ve only been knocking it around with George for a couple of months, but doing so has already helped me find some aspects of my old game and start playing more competitively after a long period of mediocre singles performance.

A few weeks ago, after my best outing ever against George, we got into a conversation about approach shots.  He observed that players often try to get too cute with their approach shots, hitting angles that open up the court for an opponent’s subsequent attempt at a passing shot. George says the best approach shot is often one up the middle, because it takes angles away from the opponent.

On its face, one can’t argue with this logic. But George reacts to the ball — any ball — better than most people I play against. It occurred to me that I’ve approached him up the middle many times only to be easily passed — not exactly a winning strategy. The problem is that when I hit a medium-paced approach up the middle, his balance and reflexes and racket control are too good for my ball to impose significant pressure on him. He practically has time to file his nails before easily passing me.

The reason George has improved my game has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with shot execution. That approach shot up the middle, which may be effective simply because of its placement against a lesser opponent, must arrive deep in the court with pace and spin to pressure George. If any one of these factors is missing, my chance of winning the point has diminished.

This relatively straightforward insight has helped my game lately.

One of my frequent opponents, Eric H., had been beating me all indoor season this year. To his credit, he’s elevated his game to the point where he’s playing both consistently and well, not easily intimidated by difficult gets and even more rarely worn down by hard-fought points.

Setting aside some inconsistency issues on my part, what’s been driving me crazy about my games with Eric is how often I’ve put balls in the right place on the court but lost the point anyway. My approach shots in particular have often been futile, just set-ups for his passes — and it didn’t used to be that way.

Placement is meaningless unless married to pace and spin. I played Eric after that lightbulb went off and brought with me the determination to step up these qualities in my shots. Voila! All of a sudden, his passing shots were landing six inches out because he had less time to set up and my ball’s heaviness robbed his racket of some precision.

So to my New Year’s resolution: be the error en-forcer!