Today’s Read: 8 Minutes
There were so many reasons for me to not actually read The Inner Game of Tennis.
For starters, my interest in tennis doesn't go much further than using the US Open as an excuse to drink Honey Deuces. I also have an unfair prejudice against any sort of content that was created before 2000. I'll stand by White Chicks being a better movie than Citizen Kane and I'll read The Adventures of Captain Underpants before I even think about skimming The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
These biases were very much top of mind when I first heard about this tennis book written in the 1970s. But it seemed like everyone was referencing this book for almost all of March.
I first heard about it on a podcast featuring some performance coach. I then found it on a friend's reading list. And by the time I saw it listed in Bill Gates' "Five of my All-Time Favorite Books" column, repetitive exposure had made me more receptive to the "Tennis is really just a metaphor for life" message I was expecting from this supposed classic.
The Inner Game of Tennis has tactical tennis advice but—as you probably would have guessed—the ideas there extend beyond the sport.
I'm convinced this book becomes a Rorschach test for whatever personal development journey you're going through.
For me, 3 areas came to mind:
* My compulsive need to be in control all the time
* Learning how to be kinder to myself
* Finding focus through joy
And while I doubt my nonexistent tennis game has improved at all, reading this book certainly gave me a lot to think about.
Needing to be in control
Timothy Gallwey's book focuses on the inner dialog between what he coined Self 1 vs. Self 2.
Self 1 is your conscious mind, the analytical part you use to think, decide, and ultimately talk to yourself. It’s the voice that tells you to “loosen your arms” or “tighten your grip” on the tennis court. It's also that part of your brain that can do more harm than good by making you overthink.
If you consider all the muscle movements and careful timing required for your body to actually swing a tennis racket, you’ll realize that the mechanics are simply too complex for Self 1 to rationalize into a coherent instruction set.
If the shot is evaluated as good, Self 1 starts wondering how he hit such a good shot; then it tries to get his body to repeat the process by giving self-instructions, trying hard, and so on...As a consequence, the player’s muscles tighten when they need to be loose, strokes become awkward and less fluid, and negative evaluations are likely to continue with growing intensity.
Self 2 is the subconscious mind, the part that’s spontaneous and relies on our natural instincts.
When Self 2 is allowed to take over, we can have this out-of-body experience while also being fully present and engaged.
In sports, it's often referred to as "being in the zone" but we’ve all likely experienced it outside of athletics as well.
At work, we move quickly from task to task, and challenges feel fun to solve. In social settings, we are naturally able to find the right words to say and we feel connected to the people around us.
[When we allow Self 2 to take over] we are focused without trying to concentrate. We feel spontaneous and alert. We have an inner assurance that we can do what needs to be done, without having to “try hard.” We simply know the action will come, and when it does, we don’t feel like taking credit; rather, we feel fortunate, “graced.”
Self 2 unlocks our flow state and we don't achieve it because spontaneously gained some new knowledge or physical ability. Rather, for that brief moment, our minds quiet down and our bodies naturally and effortlessly engage with the task at hand.
Self 1 and Self 2 are in constant conflict with one another, where Self 1 often wins because it provides an illusion of control.
When you intentionally tell yourself to do something a certain way, and it goes well, you satisfy your ego by feeling like you somehow mastered the situation.
I’ve certainly been guilty of rehearsing too much for a presentation, trying too hard to be funny, or just being way too rigid about my schedule. This need to control every variable can actually distract us from the big picture.
We focus so much on controlling ourselves, the situation, or, sometimes, others that we forget to be present and engaged with what’s in front of us.
The greatest lapses in concentration come when we allow our minds to project what is about to happen or to dwell on what has already happened.
Learning to be kinder to myself
For most of us, quieting the mind is a gradual process that requires us to unlearn some of the mental habits we naturally acquired growing up.
Self 1 has a tendency to generalize, transforming a single piece of criticism like “that was a bad backhand” into “you're a terrible tennis player”. Every event easily gets extrapolated to some judgment of our self-worth.
Our brains are natural judgment machines, filtering, categorizing, and then responding in automatic ways.
Some things are judged as “good”, so we grasp for more, and cling to what we have. Other things are judged as “bad”, so we hide, resist, and run away from them. And everything else that's judged as "neutral" we ignore entirely for the most part.
While there's nothing inherently wrong with labels, when left unchecked, they lead to unhelpful emotional reactions that interfere with spontaneous, focused play.
Our egos feel threatened and we react to our frustration by tightening up, trying too hard, or participating in non-stop self-condemnation. We're often not even aware these judgments influence our behavior and performance.
Gallway explores this idea of non-judgemental awareness to counteract this: letting go of our human inclination to judge ourselves and just stoically observing what’s happening.
Nonjudgmental awareness might observe that during a certain match you hit 50 percent of your first serves into the net. It doesn’t ignore the fact. It may accurately describe your service on that day as erratic and seek to discover the causes. Judgment begins when the serve is labeled “bad” and causes interference with one’s playing when a reaction of anger, frustration or discouragement follows.
Non-judgemental awareness doesn’t mean we ignore all of our errors. Nor does it mean we stop making judgments altogether—which is probably impossible.
It means trying to see events as they are and not adding any additional meaning to them. Setting down the judging mind—even for a short while—will free you from the suffering caused by interpreting those events this way.
Change your relationship with what’s happening to you.
Don’t get swept away by the temporary thoughts that are going to arise. Resist the urge to immediately label losing a game or failing to achieve your goals as “bad.”
With a clear mind to see things as they are, we can stay present to what’s happening, and move forward with the focus and clarity that’s essential to empowering Self 2.
Finding focus through joy
Focus is essential to performing at our best but it’s not achieved by telling yourself to do so. You also need to be relaxed and—exactly like focus—that's not something that can be summoned simply by telling yourself to do it.
Natural focus occurs when the mind is genuinely interested so that the task feels effortless and natural, not tense and overly controlled.
When I’m concerned only about winning, I'm emotionally attached to an outcome I can't wholly control.
I start viewing competition and challenges as threats rather than opportunities to push myself to new limits.
As a result, I tend to get anxious and try too hard.
Gallwey sees this too in a lot of the people he trains.
For them, playing well and winning are often life-and-death issues. They are constantly measuring themselves in comparison with their friends by using their skill at tennis as one of the measuring rods. It is as if some believe that only by being the best, only by being a winner, will they be eligible for the love and respect they seek.
It’s difficult to have fun and achieve that desired state of assuredness when Self 1 is engaging in a life-and-death struggle with our egos.
We forget about actually enjoying what’s in front of us. We stop considering what actually makes us happy because we’re so focused on achieving measurable progress and success.
The real tragedy isn’t just that Self 1 stops us from being at our best, it’s that so many of us discover how success doesn’t actually bring the sustaining joy and self-respect we thought it would.
Gallwey suggests focusing on what he calls critical variables—important things you should pay attention to that are relevant, even if indirectly, to the task at hand. For example, if you’re driving a car (assuming the desired outcome is to get safely from A to B), you would obviously pay attention to external things—like the car’s speed and other vehicles on the road—but critical variables could include internal signals like your own level of comfort and your level of focus.
The key is to paint the clearest possible image of our desired outcome without fixating on the outcome. Our focus should be on how it feels to perform at our best rather than on Self 1's “how-to-do-it” instructions.
As Self 1 learns to let go, a growing confidence in the ability of Self 2 emerges.
When you simply allow the serve to serve itself, it doesn’t seem as if you deserve the credit. It doesn’t feel as if it were you who hit the ball. You tend to feel good about the ability of your body, and possibly even amazed by the results, but the credit and sense of personal accomplishment are replaced by another kind of satisfaction.
When you focus only on things you can control—your effort, your attitude, or your willingness to learn and grow from adversity— you anchor on what’s happening now rather than getting distracted by hypotheticals.
That’s a state of focus that not only increases your chances for success but also increases satisfaction with what you’re doing.
The mere awareness that you are using maximum effort to win each point will carry you past the problem of anxiety. As a result, the energy which would otherwise have gone into the anxiety and its consequences can then be utilized in one’s effort to win the point. In this way, one’s chances of winning the outer game are maximized.
Conclusion
The Inner Game of Tennis made me step back and reassess how I’ve approached so many of my previous endeavors. Whether it’s been school, athletics, or relationships, I’ve always valued clear direction, consistent routine, and personal discipline.
I never had trouble getting up extra shots the morning after a bad game. I never had trouble pointing out mistakes I made during a project that went awry. And I never fail to look back and cringe at whatever went wrong during social interaction.
I labeled all of these events as "failures" where my inability to get the desired outcome reflected some existential personal deficiency. It's likely why I still think being self-critical is a necessary evil for me to never become complacent.
The first time someone suggested “Hey, you should be kinder to yourself”, I responded with an indignant “Why?”
But having read Gallwey's book, I now wonder how my "failures" could have been avoided had I simply not been so attached to the outcome.
My emotional fitness journey has been impacted by this too. Improving my decision-making, becoming more resilient, and being more self-aware can feel like such abstract goals that it's tempting to exert some control over that process. I adopted an extremely Self 1-focused approach: follow this rule, apply that decision-making framework, and do X when you feel Y.
That has led to a lot of self-criticism. I'd feel insecure if I couldn't formulate a thought coherently. I'd feel guilty whenever I couldn't complete a task fast enough. And I'd feel frustrated whenever I allowed some negative emotion to take over.
It feels silly to think there’s an absolute right or wrong way to think and feel in a given situation.
I think this is the next critical step in my personal development—learning to relinquish this need to control everything.
It means practicing non-judgemental awareness by not assigning self-critical labels after things don't go as expected.
It’s focusing on critical variables like my enthusiasm and personal interest when working on myself.
And ultimately, it’s practicing the deceptively simple message behind this book: don’t let your need to control everything prevent you from being fully engaged and present.
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