Zen and Omar Sebastian's radical backhand

[ochi]

A wonderful little 1948 book, "Zen in the Art of Archery," by the late German philospher Eugen Herrrigel, has led me into practicing alone some of the time, to prevent my mind from wandering. Lately, it has helped me get away from trying to toss higher, to, instead, tossing to just the right high spot for me -- a tip that I picked up somewhere in Tennisplayer.net.

Over the last few evenings, Herrigel has helped me with hitting backhands with a radically closed grip. This was taught to me 25 years ago by a remarkable instructor named Omar Sebastian, a skinny former Delaware state champion who came within one point of qualifying for a U.S. Open, and later suffered a shoulder injury. I would see him getting down and teeing off on big serves from other instructors, using his then-radical backhand. When he tried to teach me, my shots usually hit the court way in front of the net. When they began to go over, he said, "Doesn't that feel good?!" It didn't; it felt weird. I chalked off the $25, or whatever it was, for that lesson, and forgot it. Gradually, I went to an underspin slice drive, a poor imitation of the Rosewall backhand, but very effective when done right.

Last week, I remembered Sebastian's backhand, and how in the 1920s a Zen Japanese archery instructor gradually managed to get Herrigel to release a bowstring almost perfectly. Combining the two seems to have worked. Now, I must see if it will work when I have a practice with a friend, and then if it will come to me in a low-key match, and then in an intense match.

Going to a court alone to hit 50 or more backhands and as many serves, frequently or even daily for short periods, can be unimaginably beneficial, provided one can remain specific and unclutter the mind.

[airforce1]

can u tell us where the grip was?
Do u still see it as rad?

[uspta146749877]

grip

can u tell us where the grip was?
Do u still see it as rad?

bevel 8 i.e 8/8?

[ochi]

grip

Hold the racquet horizontal to the court, then tilt it five degrees forward. Each time I begin to practice it, I think, No Way! Then I recall reading that Stan Smith learned topspin backhand by practicing by himself, bouncing and hitting inummerable balls until he got the hang of it, got comfortable with it. I do not know what grip Smith used, by the way. But it's another argument for learning feel for a shot by drilling alone.

Omar Sebastian might still be out there. Last I heard, years ago, he was head instructor at a North Jersey Club, near Livingston. Another North Jersey instructor with a remarkable backhand is/was Jeremy Angell, also known as "Mr. Silk."

[ochi]

more hand-eye wizardry

Here are two far more remarkable examples of hand-eye coordination I want to share:

In 1988, in Livingston, N.J., in a tournament organized by Gene Scott, I was
saw a flashy kid named Agassi playing a tall, skinny Czech, whose name I forget. The Czech whipped an overhead into Agassi's left service box and began to return to his baseline. Beyond the court on that side was an expanse of large flower pots; beyond that were the most expensive seats. Agassi dashed between the urns, slashed a winning return, snatched a handful of geraniums before running up to a low fence, leaned over and handed the flowers to a pretty womanwhile he came to a full stop.

That fall, I think it was, I went to watch Jimmy Connors in an exhibition at the Meadowlands Arena. During one of the points, his opponent hit a sizzling forehand toward the right pocket of Connors' very tight shorts. Connors casually turned, opening the pocket, and caught the ball in his shorts. Later, Connors hit a ball straight up, almost out of sight up into the rafters, then stood there, his racquet out in front of him in a frying pan grip, strings up. The ball reappeared, falling, falling. And when it landed on the center of the strings, and died, Connors did not seem to have flinched.

Anyone else have anecdotes such as these? If so, please post them.

[oliensis]

My grandfather was an avid tennis player. Apparently he once got to play the forehand side to Bill Tilden’s backhand side in a casual pro-am setting in Bermuda.

A serve into Tilden’s backhand side stretched Big Bill wide. Tilden took one of his famously long cross strides with his right foot out wide past the alley, but the serve took a remarkably awkward hop and bounced less wide than it looked like it would. Tilden, stretched out, and with his back basically toward the net, leaned over, away from the net, toward the back fence and caught the ball in the small of his back. He then, in one motion, rolled the ball up his spine, over his neck, onto the top of his head. Keeping the momentum of the ball going, he tipped his head back and balanced the ball on the tip of his nose, at which point he snapped his head back, flipping the ball in the air, and, standing on one foot, with the other leg stretched out behind him, caught the ball on the arch of his elevated foot. From there he flicked the ball back across the net with a snap of his ankle, catching the server smack between the eyes, knocking the server down with the force of the casually flicked ball.

Of course Big Bill apologized profusely, saying he had meant to hit the server in the navel, not in the bazoo. And, being the sportsman that he was, he of course acknowledged the terrific quality of the serve, mimicking Fred Perry with the phrase, Very clevuh (clever) serve, old boy! (Not only was Big Bill a terrific athlete, but he was a flawless mimic as well.)