Thoughts about Tennis Tradition...

[doctorhl]

I wrote this as a message to my high school classmates on our website...50th anniversary coming in 2022

"Journey to the End of the Night"...Ferdinand Celine

I trust everyone has had themselves quite a journey. "Journey to the End of the Night" is a rather dark sardonic novel written by this incredible French author in 1932. Dark days indeed. Some of us are overwhelmed with the darkness of our days in the year of our Lord 2020 and understandably so. If you have a strong mental mindset I recommend "Journey..." to help put this thing in perspective. Jim Morrison of the Doors loved this book so that he wrote a song about it. "End of the Night". Morrison also said "no one here gets out alive". The reality starts to sink in. Yeah...not for the feignt of heart.

"The second half of a mans life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half"... Fyodor Dostoyevsky (The Devils 1871)
My dear father sent me a list of quotes by well known people and this one always stuck in my head. Perhaps it was because he gave them to me as I was approaching forty years of age or so. Maybe I was thirty-eight at the time. As I read this, not knowing the context that it was written in the epic Dostoyevsky novel, I read into it what I could from what I knew. Anyways...I figured that the average human life span might be around eighty years old and right around forty it was halftime, so to speak, and it was time. In the locker room of life. It was time to assess what happened in the first half and to try and evaluate what the score was. Was I winning? Was I losing? There was no coach...there was just me.

After groping my way through my recollections of the first half of my life, it was time to determine a game plan for the second half. The first half was about youth and being young. Physical. Somewhat young but still quite physical as halftime approached. It was becoming apparent though that the second half was not going to be about the body or youth but hopefully evolving into the spirit...in a intellectual, emotional and psychological sense. The first half for my life I was heavily involved in physical activity...namely the sport of tennis and it sort of gave me an identity. The Tennis Player. But I knew as I was approaching forty that I had to give it up. I was no longer young enough to carry on the charade. To do so would be unseemly. I took my first golf lesson on my fortieth birthday at the Dearborn Country Club. In my mind I would never play tennis again.

I had worked rather fastidiously on developing the habits that a tennis player does in order to compete on higher and higher levels. That might loosely sum up the first half of my life. Not that I was solely a "tennis player". I strayed. As I approached the "halftime" of my life I found myself reading like a starving man. In pursuit of a different kind of knowledge. Understanding. I took books to bed and read them through the night. Before I went to sleep...I read. When I woke up in the middle of the night...I read. When I woke in the morning...I read. During the day...I read at every opportunity. I read by author. I picked an author and tried to read everything they wrote. I wanted to get into their heads. I don't know what compelled me to do so. Maybe it was some sort of calling. A divine inspiration. My father asked me why I was reading so insatiably...I could only answer that:

"Like the character in the Dostoyevsky novel "The Devils", that I had not read at that point, I wondered about the second half of my life. I knew big changes were in store for me but I couldn't fathom at the time what they would be. So I read about characters in these great novels by these wonderful authors until I realised that I, too...was a character on the stage of life. I did not want to fall "victim" to the Dostoyevsky curse...old habits. I wanted to change. Completely. Metamorphous."

Anyways...last week I shot 71 on my home club's course of a par 72. I broke par for the first time in many years. I had to put the golf clubs aside as I tried to eek out a living here in Sweden by teaching tennis. How ironic...Mr. Dostoyevsky. Old habits die hard. But having resigned from my position at the little funky tennis club in Skultorp, Sweden I once again set out on my Quixotic Quest on the golf course. I had flirted with breaking par a number of times by shooting even par. Finally I broke the barrier. A watershed moment. Persistence, determination and dedication. Merely a step towards my end goal...to shoot my age. I've been very lucky. Now I find myself well into the fourth quarter of life...just as all of you do. No longer the tennis player although through one of life's wonderful ironies I was the tennis teacher. Here in Sweden. Just like my wonderful tennis coach...Sherman Collins. Wondering about the finish line. Will I have to heave a "Hail Mary" or will I just run out the clock? The Lord only knows.

Have you ever thought about channeling some of this journey quest into writing an article/ book/ screenplay, etc. about “Culture change as a reflection of the game of tennis”? It is a unique topic that could be discussed globally or regionally. There are certainly some on this forum who have the tennis and life experiences to help you kickstart such a project.

[don_budge]

What is wrong with this picture:

Donald J. Trump has 88.8 million Twitter followers.

Joe Biden has 16.6 million Twitter followers.

[don_budge]

I wrote this as a message to my high school classmates on our website...50th anniversary coming in 2022

"Journey to the End of the Night"...Ferdinand Celine

I trust everyone has had themselves quite a journey. "Journey to the End of the Night" is a rather dark sardonic novel written by this incredible French author in 1932. Dark days indeed. Some of us are overwhelmed with the darkness of our days in the year of our Lord 2020 and understandably so. If you have a strong mental mindset I recommend "Journey..." to help put this thing in perspective. Jim Morrison of the Doors loved this book so that he wrote a song about it. "End of the Night". Morrison also said "no one here gets out alive". The reality starts to sink in. Yeah...not for the feignt of heart.

"The second half of a mans life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half"... Fyodor Dostoyevsky (The Devils 1871)
My dear father sent me a list of quotes by well known people and this one always stuck in my head. Perhaps it was because he gave them to me as I was approaching forty years of age or so. Maybe I was thirty-eight at the time. As I read this, not knowing the context that it was written in the epic Dostoyevsky novel, I read into it what I could from what I knew. Anyways...I figured that the average human life span might be around eighty years old and right around forty it was halftime, so to speak, and it was time. In the locker room of life. It was time to assess what happened in the first half and to try and evaluate what the score was. Was I winning? Was I losing? There was no coach...there was just me.

After groping my way through my recollections of the first half of my life, it was time to determine a game plan for the second half. The first half was about youth and being young. Physical. Somewhat young but still quite physical as halftime approached. It was becoming apparent though that the second half was not going to be about the body or youth but hopefully evolving into the spirit...in a intellectual, emotional and psychological sense. The first half for my life I was heavily involved in physical activity...namely the sport of tennis and it sort of gave me an identity. The Tennis Player. But I knew as I was approaching forty that I had to give it up. I was no longer young enough to carry on the charade. To do so would be unseemly. I took my first golf lesson on my fortieth birthday at the Dearborn Country Club. In my mind I would never play tennis again.

I had worked rather fastidiously on developing the habits that a tennis player does in order to compete on higher and higher levels. That might loosely sum up the first half of my life. Not that I was solely a "tennis player". I strayed. As I approached the "halftime" of my life I found myself reading like a starving man. In pursuit of a different kind of knowledge. Understanding. I took books to bed and read them through the night. Before I went to sleep...I read. When I woke up in the middle of the night...I read. When I woke in the morning...I read. During the day...I read at every opportunity. I read by author. I picked an author and tried to read everything they wrote. I wanted to get into their heads. I don't know what compelled me to do so. Maybe it was some sort of calling. A divine inspiration. My father asked me why I was reading so insatiably...I could only answer that:

"Like the character in the Dostoyevsky novel "The Devils", that I had not read at that point, I wondered about the second half of my life. I knew big changes were in store for me but I couldn't fathom at the time what they would be. So I read about characters in these great novels by these wonderful authors until I realised that I, too...was a character on the stage of life. I did not want to fall "victim" to the Dostoyevsky curse...old habits. I wanted to change. Completely. Metamorphous."

Anyways...last week I shot 71 on my home club's course of a par 72. I broke par for the first time in many years. I had to put the golf clubs aside as I tried to eek out a living here in Sweden by teaching tennis. How ironic...Mr. Dostoyevsky. Old habits die hard. But having resigned from my position at the little funky tennis club in Skultorp, Sweden I once again set out on my Quixotic Quest on the golf course. I had flirted with breaking par a number of times by shooting even par. Finally I broke the barrier. A watershed moment. Persistence, determination and dedication. Merely a step towards my end goal...to shoot my age. I've been very lucky. Now I find myself well into the fourth quarter of life...just as all of you do. No longer the tennis player although through one of life's wonderful ironies I was the tennis teacher. Here in Sweden. Just like my wonderful tennis coach...Sherman Collins. Wondering about the finish line. Will I have to heave a "Hail Mary" or will I just run out the clock? The Lord only knows.

[don_budge]

Jesus asks the demon for his name and is told "My name is Legion, for we are many".

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exorcism_of_the_Gerasene_demoniac?fbclid=IwAR3sLZbv4xVyPRc6X2UTn9ugySBC2INM60FKQp-PZRGflYcGBE8Vi2UYi78

So here is what I SAW on election day morning, November 3, here in Sweden. Was it a sign? Around 3 AM EST in the USA...nine in the morning here. A herd of wild pigs came through our property and through our fields in a single file fashion. This is what you would call statistically a "rare event". These swine never come out during the day. NEVER. But this morning I was looking out the window of our upstairs and I saw something that did not make any sense to my eyes at first. What I felt was disbelief. The first swine that came through were the males...as big as mini trucks. Built like little trucks up to 200 kilos. Then came the females and the young. There must have been at least twenty and I think that it was more like thirty. An endless line of swine. So I was thinking of something Biblical and I vaguely remembered the story of the Exorcism of the wild pigs. Wouldn't it be funny...wouldn't it be the ultimate irony if Donald Trump came back from the edge of this abyss and drove all of his "demonic" opponents off the cliff. He had to have gamed the entire thing through every permutation and combination. He talks like a man not ready to concede. Not by a long shot. What does he know? He knows more than any man alive in some sense. He has access to more information than any single person in the world. Any thing done in the dark is going to come out in the light.

[don_budge]

Read All About It...!!!

A huge day in America today...Donald J. Trump or Joe Biden? A pivotal day for the next four years and beyond. Ah...the battle for the soul of mankind. America stands in the way. Donald Trump stands in the way. The election of 2016 was followed by a four year temper tantrum the likes of which the world has never seen. National Guard on standby in 24 states ready for the call to duty. The Donald Trump campaign rallies have been off the charts. I watched several the day before yesterday. Never once did he look as if he even thought he was going to lose. The energy is just unbelievable. How old is he? He has been staring down all of it for four years and never backed down...not once. The Deep State. The Russian Hoax. Impeachment for commenting on the corruption of the Biden's in the Ukraine. The Democrats. His own Republicans. The Fake News media...the most powerful WMD ever assembled (Weapon of Mass Deception). The FBI. The CIA. The Intelligence Agencies. The Banking system. Factions of the Military. The Master's of the Universe. He never backed down.

http://www.whatdoesitmean.com/index3381.htm

[don_budge]

I was a little bored. So I walked down to the road with the garbage to put in the containers. The road is about 400 meters from the house. It's a full moon or at least it was yesterday. A blue moon...the second full moon within the month. I got about halfway down the road where there is a bend and the moonlight is playing tricks on the darkness. York saw me go and probably wanted to come with me. He started howling back in the kennel...the yard. A long and sadly powerful howl. The moonlight slippery in the night and the music of the wolf howling. It struck something deep in me. Deeper than my fear of the dark. It just hit me. I could be lonely if I let myself be. But I refuse because I cannot. The lone wolf walking into the night...darkness all around. Save for a strange light among the shadows. Just a glimpse into the dark. Into the night.

[don_budge]

The Fleeting Expanse of Time...Traditions

Greeting from the Wilderness. Society has gone through a great transformation. How good has it actually been? While some stress the wonders of technology...I wonder. In fact...I question. But any rate I wrote this message to the forum in November of 2015. I know the forum has gone through a deep change as well but it doesn't hurt to think of the past here. What a neighbourhood it was. The characters...the writers. Well it's all changed now. Read on...read on. Don't forget the article at the bottom. This was only a random post as it appeared somehow after I logged in. But I thought it was interesting. Revealing. I am not embarrassed. These were my thoughts on a given day.

#3,000and countingfor Frankie and Dylan and my Love for the Game

A milestone. A tiny one in the big picture. In the general scope of things. It's only me thinking…out loud.

But I think that I have managed to paint a picture. I could call it…"The Year in Tennis"…2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 and now 2015. I could call it…"The Three Little Dots"…connecting the past with the present and into the future. Out of it I came up with a paradigm to teach by…you know the one.

Bill Tilden is the book. Richard Gonzales is the model with the J. Donald Budge backhand. Harry Hopman is the coach. Roger Federer is the living proof.

Make of it what you will…or don't if it doesn't suit you. That is the point afterall…every coach must come up with a paradigm. A paradigm that is rigid enough to adhere to certain fundamentals yet flexible enough to connect the past with the present. Flexible enough to understand that every single student is unique. I was at a trainer's seminar here recently in Sweden and a question was asked of the speaker…what is it that is most important that a trainer should bring to the court?

I will tell you what that is…every coach should endeavor to be a student of the game. No small feat these days with the propaganda and the hype. It's hard to separate the nonsense from the real thing. Modern tennis…and modern times. Tennis metaphorically morphing into life.

What a great pleasure it is to participate in this little neighbourhood of ours. I guess that I have made it my personal playground. I know that I have. For me…it's therapy. It's therapy against the reality of things. The truth is that life isn't all that great. Not for a lot of people. But we tennis coaches and players and students…we are lucky to have such a game to play. Somehow it found us and we become a part of it. It's a living thing…made up of you and I and everyone that has ever found the love of the game through the racquet meeting the ball in sweet spot of the strings. That's love…I can tell you.

Love is a tricky thing. It's a two way street. You get what you give…sometimes you get more than you bargained for. When I first started playing the game I never imagined this. For God's sake…I was privileged to spend two whole summers with J. Donald Budge himself. How did that happened? I was a poor kid from a broken home. I guess the game was finding me. For some reason I was privileged to meet Aaron Krickstein and his family and this gave me another wonderful insight into the game. How did that happen? I'm lucky I guess.

Along the way I took my tennis racquet with me wherever I went. Today it is paying my bills and putting food on the table. The game has been a gift to me. So I got a lot of love out of it…so I feel that I have to give it back. Maybe that seems strange…a strange thought to some of you. But you understand just how much I love the game. I love it enough to defend it as if it was a she and she was the love of my life. I live in a world of make believe…where I am the hero. Like don_quixote falling in love with a whore or defending the world from gigantic windmills.

Love is a tricky thing. I already said that didn't I. We don't deserve it. Therefore it is impossible to find. But I have found it…in a couple of places. Women? It seems that they come and go and so does our love for them. Not always…I suppose true love exists. I love where the fire never goes out. But the love that I found is the love of a dog. Not to mention the love of God. But the love of my dog has been a little heaven on earth. I lost Frankie the American Chocolate Labrador Retriever three days before Christmas last year and then my beloved Wolf Boy went down the day before my birthday in March and he was dead in five days. I lost. I lost big time. A loser of the biggest magnitude.

I was asking myself…where's the bottom? I was falling…at a speed that I was unfamiliar with. The truth is there is no bottom. That's what I found out. The truth is it is a hole…a bottomless hole. Sometimes whether you like it or not…you just keep falling. But you have to stop yourself…nobody else can.

The day the wolf went down was a day that being a student of the game of tennis helped me to understand. If not understand…it helped me to process. In March I was still numb from the loss of Frankie. I couldn't speak for a week…but I wrote here. On that day in March I went to work as normal…it was a Thursday. When I came home the light was on in the stable…which isn't normal. The hair on my neck prickled just a bit. I went in the stable and there was my wife with one of the horses who was having a bout of colic…which can actually be fatal. I went in the house to change clothes and I found Dylan, the wolf, more or less debilitated. I couldn't reach him. I went back to the stable and told my wife and she was very surprised. Dylan seemed to be ok all day.

We were waiting for the veterinarian to arrive and when she finally did it was a couple of hours of torture. For us and the horse. A four foot hose down the nose of the horse to fill her stomach full of water so she wouldn't dehydrate. Along with some solvent to move her bowels. We had to walk her all night long on the hour. I say we…but it was more or less my wife. But Dylan was not responding.

The next morning I took him to the vet. It Friday the 13th. They gave him some antibiotics for a possible infection and after a couple of hours we were headed home. Later on he seemed to revive. The next day he was trying his best to act as if everything was ok. It was a courageous act. He was to die three days later. I lay on the floor holding him…sobbing.

The irony of everything is that on that Thursday we went to look at a Chocolate Lab puppy. A litter of nine. I picked him out immediately…or did he pick me. I guess that we picked each other. Love at first sight. I named him on the spot…Puntzie. He was nine months old on Monday. He's sleeping at my feet right now.

You live to play another day. You keep your head in the game. It ain't over until match point is in the bag. I am not the same man that I was a year ago. The sun was passing us right about here as I remember. I'm a year older now. A year wiser. Happiness? What is that? Is that the name of the game? Or is it survival.

Love…it's a tricky thing. I quit tennis when I turned forty. I took my first golf lesson on my birthday. I never touched a racquet for some 13 or 14 years. I gave myself to golf. But I move to Sweden almost eleven years ago. I wasn't working for the first three years or so. Then one day…out of the bue. I somehow found myself giving a tennis lesson to a pretty French girl on an old and pretty much dilapidated court at the golf club. A couple of guys came walking by after finishing their round. One of them was my neighbour. Another was a man on the board of a local tennis club…they were looking for a tennis trainer. I got the call. The game came to me…again. That was about eight years ago. I began my career as a tennis teacher.

I found tennisplayer.net doing a search for a video of the J. Donald Budge backhand. One of my earliest students also turned out to be my best. Gustaf was switching from two hands to one. I never knew that there was a forum for the first year or so. When I first found it…I marvelled at bottle's writing. I even asked him about writing. He told me that you must know your audience.

When I first started writing here on the forum I mentioned Bill Tilden in one of my posts. Wouldn't you know it that GeoffWilliams was banging on me like I couldn't believe. In my world Tilden has always been discussed openly…without the distraction of his unfortunate personal life. I erased all of my posts that I had written to that point and called it quits. But then I thought it over. Nobody is chasing me away. Nobody. I will leave when it is time. My time is coming…it's coming sooner than later. But it's been fun. In a way you guys are some of the best friends that I ever had.

I dedicate my 3,000th post that I wrote to my beloved friends Frankie and Dylan. Puntzie too…can't forget the living. I dedicate it to my love for the game. To life. From the bottom of my heart. All of it. All 3,004. I did it for my students and you guys too…of course.

http://theeconomiccollapseblog.com/a...s-america-2020

[don_budge]

The Watershed Moment...

I shot one under par for eighteen holes for the first time in over ten years. I am getting closer and closer to shooting my age. Each year I get another stroke. The last two days I have somehow become connected with the right side of my body.

[doctorhl]

Perhaps breathing is the release!

[doctorhl]

The golf range, like tennis drills, builds confidence in motor memory. But that motor memory confidence is challenged when subjected to the added variables encountered when playing a tennis match or a golf round and the added pressure of score keeping. Balancing the practice to play/competition ratio becomes important. It seeems to me that effective practice requires intense mental focus, but that competition requires transitioning to intense mental “ release”?( I need a better descriptor). I have more problem with release than focus.

[doctorhl]

don_budge: Thanks for reading and responding to my rambling. Ultimately, we all want to ultimately reach the zone with “ feel” tennis or golf rather than “ think” tennis or golf when executing movement.

1.Anyone know the ratio of time spent “during” versus “between” points in tennis? I bet at least 30% of a 2 hour match is spent “between”. 2.Golf is even more challenging. Probably 95%+ of a a 4 hour round is spent “between”. What do you do with your head with a competition that has only 5% action? You gave some answers and resources to read, but the amount of ZEN required to calm an analytical type mind freaks me out!

[hockeyscout]

As coal miner...as a golfer. You dig it out of the ground. Show up on time. Do your job. Eat your lunch out of a lunch bucket. It's blue collar baby! Moe Norman. I find my heroes in some unlikely places. Moe used to sleep in the bunkers at the tournament sites.

I was out doing my three and a half hour practice session the other day. Nobody else around. I said it out loud in a most confirming voice...authoritative like. "This is my playground!". It is. I have taken possession of the practice facility at the Knistad Country Club in rural Sweden. I have a thinly structured loose knit plan. But it is all inclusive in the sense it will take me where I am going. It's long term too. I am in it for the long haul. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. My dear old tennis coach Sherman Collins used to say. Finding the weakness in your own repertoire. Working it. Honing it. Owning it.

I am the only one out there practicing like I do. This suits me just fine. I know that my competition is somewhere else...doing something else. Meanwhile I work. I'm working on the mental game. Trying to improve myself. To be a better golfer...to be a better person. I telephone my dear old Father a lot and give him updates on my progress. He gets a kick out having a son who is having so much fun. Is it so much fun? Can you work so hard at something and still call it fun? It's fun when you see results. It isn't fun if you are spinning your wheels. It has to be "purposeful". Every moment must be geared for the next moment. Everything hinges upon it.

I watched this video hockeyscout. Thanks for posting it. I have been aware of Moe Norman for many years. A great Canadian. A very special man. Awkward around people but if you put a golf club in his hand he starts to sound like Amadeus Mozart. His voice goes sing song. His sentences becomes lyrics. An idiot savant poet. A person who is extremely unworldly but displays natural wisdom, insight and clarity.

You'd be surprised with the amount of guys that are doing just fine spinning their wheels - see it all the time. Anyways, each to his own. You know what really improved my fishing game - try reading Qi Dao - Tibetan Shamanic Qigong: The Art of Being in the Flow ...

[don_budge]

Realistically one needs to approach this game like you are a coal miner - show up, do your job and be smart/wise/SAFE/structured at it so you become DURABLE, efficient/street wise/a man of the land and put in more proper reps than the other guys.

Do you think the game the way this guy thinks it - if not, you won't be a player

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ln72ezTmm6Y - Moe Norman ...

So, yes - success is all in an athletes hands and if they don't make it then it is all their fault and no one else's ...

I like Moe here ...

"I make the ball talk" ...

"Get lost guys - I play now ... this is my own little playground" ...

Talent can take you a long way - I agree - but, their gets a point when you get good at 13/19 - and, now its a matter of putting in more productive work so you stay at the top. Lots of talented players play 100 games in the ATP - or any pro sports - but, the trick is to get to 800 games and not many can do that because that takes some serious progressions over a long period of time.

As coal miner...as a golfer. You dig it out of the ground. Show up on time. Do your job. Eat your lunch out of a lunch bucket. It's blue collar baby! Moe Norman. I find my heroes in some unlikely places. Moe used to sleep in the bunkers at the tournament sites.

I was out doing my three and a half hour practice session the other day. Nobody else around. I said it out loud in a most confirming voice...authoritative like. "This is my playground!". It is. I have taken possession of the practice facility at the Knistad Country Club in rural Sweden. I have a thinly structured loose knit plan. But it is all inclusive in the sense it will take me where I am going. It's long term too. I am in it for the long haul. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. My dear old tennis coach Sherman Collins used to say. Finding the weakness in your own repertoire. Working it. Honing it. Owning it.

I am the only one out there practicing like I do. This suits me just fine. I know that my competition is somewhere else...doing something else. Meanwhile I work. I'm working on the mental game. Trying to improve myself. To be a better golfer...to be a better person. I telephone my dear old Father a lot and give him updates on my progress. He gets a kick out having a son who is having so much fun. Is it so much fun? Can you work so hard at something and still call it fun? It's fun when you see results. It isn't fun if you are spinning your wheels. It has to be "purposeful". Every moment must be geared for the next moment. Everything hinges upon it.

I watched this video hockeyscout. Thanks for posting it. I have been aware of Moe Norman for many years. A great Canadian. A very special man. Awkward around people but if you put a golf club in his hand he starts to sound like Amadeus Mozart. His voice goes sing song. His sentences becomes lyrics. An idiot savant poet. A person who is extremely unworldly but displays natural wisdom, insight and clarity.

[hockeyscout]

Your starting to sound like Moe Norman ... all the good ones are Moe Norman’s mentally anyways.

[don_budge]

The Tennis Equivalents...Reflection Time

Walking, as opposed to using golf cart gives more time for reflection.( tennis equivalent to the short walking reflection time between points).

Reflection time:
1.Any comments on how your thought process has evolved between golf shots?( there might be tennis parallels).
2. Is your mind becoming quicker in letting go of a previous previous poor shot performance during reflection time? (a death trap for many junior tennis players).
3.Is your reflection time taken up mostly with swing mechanics or environmental considerations like wind, topography, upcoming ball lie, club selection, etc.? I would guess that your confidence in swing transition has you thinking a little less of swing mechanics during reflection time and saving that type of thinking for range practice.(pro tennis players most likely have little swing mechanics thoughts between points and focus on strategy).

Setup thinking should be different from reflection time.
1. How has your thought process evolved during setup? (Shorter or longer time spent, different cues, shot shaping images, etc.). Most club level players who VARY the time or content in their SET UP routine struggle.( ( I suppose that is true for tennis serve setup also).

Some would say that self examination on these questions is counterproductive for golf or tennis improvement as the quality of reflection time and setup will automatically improve with practice.(not to me).

Profound thanks doctorhl. Truly the most interesting people on earth are those that can maintain an intelligent conversation on both tennis and golf. You trying to get into my head and doing a damn good job at it. Both of these games/sports are so mental. The game within the game. One of the most interesting things going on in my head is where I am with the handicap. I think you mentioned in a post how difficult it is to drop from 5 compared to drop from 10. I will tell you that much of it is mental. Number one...intellectually I was able to discern what I needed to do in practice to get there. Number two...I had the intestinal fortitude to put in the work. Number three...I was willing to accept failure in the present to advance to the future. Not necessarily in that order.

Yours is an interesting post. It's fascinating. It actually sent me into a bit of spiral trying to figure out how to express my answers to your questions and to make it meaningful to tennis enthusiasts which is my point in my revelations about my golf. The two games are remarkably as similar and dissimilar as they can possibly be. Truly two sides of the same coin. God's gift to humanity in terms of recreation representing the finite (tennis) and the infinite (golf). So what the hell do you do with your noodle in between points...in between shots. I will tell you in a word or two...just breath.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTb9GNIxpMk

The watershed moment for me came after reading a book by Dr. Bob Rotella called "Golf is Not a Game of Perfect". Basically he speaks to the very things you ask and his answer is in between shots...just breath. Don't over analyse. Don't engage in mental gymnastics. Just concentrate on breathing and thinking about things like trust. Belief. Knowing in your heart what you know. It depends upon the person of course. But everyone has access to this kind of thought pattern. The trick is to stumble upon it. But you must stumble "purposefully" as hockeyscout would say. I stumbled purposefully.

The evolution of my thought process went from chaos to organization. I ask the prospective employee "what is the key to any organization?". The answer? Organization is the key. So before when I was playing poorly I was disorganized when I got over the ball. I wasn't sure in heary or my brain just what it was I wanted to do or even begin to understand how to do it. So I worked out the how to a bit and then I started to imploy the method of Dr. Bob Rotella. Before I was fretting about what I had just done or what I was about to do. I fretted about my swing. I fretted about my score. I fretted about anything I possibly could get my grey matter on. Not condusive to good performance.

So to begin with I started to breath. You must begin with breathing and end with breathing. Through thick and thin. So at the first tee I start to concentrate on my breathing. Staying calm and in the moment. The trick is go all the way around the course doing only that. I used to anticipate too much. If I was even par after four holes I would start to think about getting to nine even. Now if I am even after four my only thoughts are the anticipation of the next shot. The last shot is in the rearview. Good or bad...it makes no difference. I only have eyes for the next...my mind is only focused on the next. All of my concentration is on the next. What happened is done...what happens next is what counts. What is going to happen? Nobody knows.

Reflection time in the walk to the ball is getting into the spirit of the game. Trying to attain a zen like state of calm. Free of worry. Free of expectations. Sure all of those things like environment, lie, conditions...all are within your powers of observation. These are the things that you consciously try to calmly think through in order to make that ultimate decision. Swing thoughts? More or less the kiss of death. Focus too much on that one thing and then you forget all the other things. Better to feel good. Be positive and relaxed. Be confident. Trust yourself. Trust your swing. Obviously there is much to this. To sort out "swing thoughts" is best done on the practice tee and even so the goal is to be able to practice as you play...without the burden of swing thoughts. Better to trust.

Amazingly I shot back to back rounds of even par golf. I played around 120 some holes of golf at 7 over par. A remarkable run. But more remarkable is that it all seemed so doable. Always feeling there is room for improvement yet fully apprecaiting the accomplishment. Thanking God above all else...for my health. For the opportunity. For all of the blessing of this life. I would wish that for everyone...by the way. It's a mission.

Ahhhh...the setup. "Miss 'em quick"...one of my favorite golf quotes by none other than Lee Trevino. A Mexican golfer. I get behind the ball and pick out my target. A very small target. Very specific. A leaf on a tree in the background. I might take some sort of practice motion...a practice swing of sorts. Not always an entire swing. Just to get comfortable with initiating the swing...initiating the downswing. I am rehearsing a feeling. Trying to to get overly specific about any swing thought. The to the ball with as little motion and variation as possible. Look at the target. Find a target in line a meter or two in front of me in line with my distant target. Put my club behind the ball lined up to the short target. I'm going to align myself to my clubface. I swing my left foot into position. Place the right foot into position. Adjust the front foot and then settle into my position and then swing. With trust and belief. Then...go find it. If it was good...it's good. If it's bad I am trying to find a way to make par. No worries. No negativity. Just play the game. It doesn't help to get down on yourself. But it's human nature. It's what we work on to get better. To improve. To become better human beings. We reflect. What a beautiful way of putting it. Thanks...doctorhl.