Chapter 10: Programming Techniques

Programming Self 2

The preceding theory should be tested and not taken on faith. Toward the end of the chapter there are several experiments that will give you a chance to experience the difference between making yourself do something, and letting it happen. I suggest that you also devise your own experiments to discover just how much you are willing to trust yourself, both when rallying and when under pressure.

At this point it may have occurred to the reader to ask, "How can I just 'let a forehand happen' if I've never learned how to hit one in the first place? Don't I need someone to tell me how to do it? If I've never played tennis before, can I just go out on the court and 'let it happen'?" The answer is: if your body knows how to hit a forehand, then just let it happen; if it doesn't, then let it learn. The actions of Self 2 are based on information it has stored in its memory of past actions of itself or of the observed actions of others. A player who has never held a racket in his hand needs to let the ball hit the strings a few times before Self 2 learns how far away the center of the racket is from the hand holding it. Every time you hit a ball, whether correctly or incorrectly, the computer memory of Self 2 is picking up valuable information and storing it away for future use. As one practices, Self 2 refines and extends the information in its memory bank. All the time it is learning such things as how high a ball bounces when hit at varying speeds and varying spins; how fast a ball falls and how fast it comes up off the court; and where it should be met to direct it to different parts of the court. It remembers every action it makes and the results of every action, depending on the degree of your attention and alertness. So the important thing for a beginning player to remember is to allow the natural learning process to take place and to forget about stroke-by-stroke self-instructions. The results will be surprising.

Having said this, let me add that Self 1 does have some role in this process. He can function in a cooperative way, though the role is a more humble one than he usually prefers. The main job of Self 1, the conscious ego-mind, is to set goals, that is, to communicate to Self 2 what he wants from it and then to let Self 2 do it. If you walked onto the court without a goal and let Self 2 do what it wanted, you might end up hitting all the balls over the fence as hard as you could and have a great time. But if your intention is to keep the balls within the lines, that goal must be communicated to Self 2. This communication can be accomplished in a natural and effortless way, but if there is the usual communication gap and mistrust between the two selves, the learning process will be slow and awkward.

Let me illustrate with an example which demonstrates the easy and hard ways of learning.

When I was twelve years old, I was sent to dancing school, where I was taught the waltz, foxtrot and other steps known only to the darker ages of man. We were told, "Put your right foot here and your left foot there, then bring them together. Now shift your weight to your left foot, turn," and so forth. The steps were not complicated, but it was weeks before I was dancing without the need to play back the tape in my head: "Put your left foot here, right foot there, turn, one, two, three; one, two, three." I would think out each step, command myself to do it, and then execute it.

I was barely aware there was a girl in my arms, and it was weeks before I was able to handle a conversation while dancing. This is the way most of us teach ourselves the footwork and strokes of tennis. But it's such a slow and painful way! Contrast it with the way the modern twelve-year-old learns to dance. He goes to a party one night, sees his friends doing the Monkey, the Jerk, and the Swim, and comes home having mastered them all. Yet these dances are infinitely more complex than the foxtrot. Just imagine the size of the instruction manual required to put into words each of the movements involved in doing the Monkey! It would require a Ph.D. in physical education and a full semester to learn these dances "by the book." But a kid who may be failing math and English learns them effortlessly in a single night.

How does he do this? First, by simply watching. He doesn't think about what he is seeing, how the left shoulder lifts a bit while the head jerks forward and the right foot twists. He simply absorbs visually the image in front of him. This image completely bypasses the ego-mind, and seems to be fed directly to the body, for in a few minutes the kid is on the floor doing movements very similar to those he was watching. Now he is feeling how it is to imitate those images. He repeats the process a few times, first looking, then feeling, and soon is dancing effortlessly-totally "with it."

Programming Self 1's Computer

If the next day he is asked by his sister how to do the Monkey he'll say, "I don't know . . . like this . . . see?" Ironically, he thinks he doesn't know how to do the dance because he can't explain it in words, while most of us who learn tennis through verbal instruction can explain in great detail how the ball should be hit but have trouble doing it.

To Self 2, a picture is worth a thousand words. It learns by watching the actions of others, as well as by performing actions itself. Almost all tennis players have experienced playing over their heads after watching championship tennis on television. The benefits to your game come not from analyzing the strokes of top players, but from concentrating without thinking and simply letting yourself absorb the images before you. Then, the next time you play, you may find that certain important intangibles such as timing, anticipation and sense of confidence are greatly improved, all without conscious effort or control.

Up to this point we have discussed the need to quiet Self 1, to slow down his judging and controlling activities. It may have sounded as if we wanted to get rid of Self 1 entirely. But the conscious self, does have a valid role in learning and playing tennis. By assuming his proper role and letting go of his improper ones he can greatly speed the learning process and help Self 2 reach the limits of its abilities. Learning tennis without the help of Self 1 would be like learning tennis on an island where the game had never been heard of. If the rules of tennis were introduced to such an island, and courts were built and equipment provided, eventually the strokes used by the island players would come to resemble closely those which we now generally consider "proper." The speed with which these strokes would be learned would depend on the extent to which Self 2 was left to its own resources-that is, the extent to which Self 1 refrained from interfering with the natural learning process. But this learning would take a great deal longer than it would in a society where there were plenty of models of effective tennis for one to learn from. In a tennis-playing society, Self 1 can assume an important role by frequently exposing Self 2 to models of high-caliber tennis. In this way, Self 1 programs the computer memory bank of Self 2 with valuable information which might take it a long time to develop on its own.

Programming for Results

The remainder of this chapter will discuss three basic methods of programming Self 2. By this I simply mean communicating to Self 2 what you want from it. The primary role of Self 1 is to set goals for Self 2, then to let Self 2 perform. It is basic to good communications that we use the most suitable language. If Mr. A wishes to make sure of getting his message across to Mr. B, he will, if he can, use Mr. B's native tongue. What is the native language of Self 2? Certainly not words! Words were not learned by Self 2 until several years after birth. No, the native tongue of Self 2 is imagery: sensory images. Movements are learned through visual and feeling images. So the three methods of programming I will discuss all involve communicating goal-oriented messages to Self 2 by images and "feelimages."

Many students of tennis are too stroke-conscious and not attentive enough to results. Such players are aware of how they stroke the ball, but unconcerned with where it is actually going. It is often helpful for these players to shift their attention from means to ends.

Here is an example.

During a group lesson with five women, I asked each player what one change she would most like to make in her game. The first woman, Sally, wanted to work on her forehand, which she said "had really been terrible lately." When I asked her what she didn't like about her forehand, she replied, "Well, I take my racket back too late and too high, and I roll it over too much on the follow-through; also I take my eye off the ball a lot, and I don't think I step into it very well." It was clear that if I were to give her instruction on each element she mentioned, I would start and end the lesson with her. So I asked Sally what she felt about the results of her forehand, and she replied, "It goes too shallow and doesn't have much power." Now we had something we could work with. I told her that I imagined her body (Self 2) already knew how to hit the ball deep and with more power, and that if it didn't, it would learn very quickly. I suggested that she imagine the arc the ball would have to take to land deep in the court, noticing how high over the net it would pass, and to hold that image in her mind for several seconds. Then, before hitting some balls, I said, "Don't try to hit the ball deep. Just ask Self 2 to do it and let it happen. If the ball continues to fall shallow, don't make any conscious effort to correct. Simply let go and see what happens."

The third ball Sally hit landed a foot inside the baseline. Of the next twenty, fifteen landed in the back quarter of the court and did so with increasing force behind them. As she hit, the other four women and I could see all the elements she had mentioned changing appreciably and naturally; her backswing lowered, her follow-through flattened, and she began flowing into the ball with balance and confidence. When she was finished hitting, I asked her what changes she had made, and she replied, "I didn't make any. I just imagined the ball passing two feet over the net and landing near the baseline, and it did!" She was both delighted and surprised. The changes which Sally made in her forehand lay in the fact that she gave Self 2 a clear visual image of the results she desired. Then she told her body in effect, "Do whatever you have to do to go there." All she had to do was let it happen.

Programming for results is the most useful method of communicating with Self 2 when playing a match. Once you are competing it is too late to work on your strokes, but it is possible to hold in your mind the image of where you want the ball to go and then allow the body to do what is necessary to hit it there. It is essential here to trust Self 2. Self 1 must stay relaxed, refraining from giving "how-to-do-it" instructions and from any effort to control the stroke. As Self 1 learns to let go, a growing confidence in the ability of Self 2 emerges.

Programming for Form

It is sometimes useful to be able to make a deliberate change in one or more elements of a given stroke when simple nonjudgmental attention and programming by results both fail to produce the desired results. Then it is appropriate to use another kind of programming-programming for form.

In brief, the process is very similar to programming for results. Suppose, for example, that you are consistently rolling your racket over on the follow-through, and the habit continues despite all efforts to change it. First you must give Self 2 a very clear image of what you are asking it to do. This can best be done by holding your racket in front of you in a proper follow-through position and looking at it with undivided attention for several seconds. You may feel foolish, thinking that you already know the proper follow-through, but it is vital to give Self 2 an image to imitate. Having done this, it might also be useful to shut your eyes and imagine as clearly as possible your entire forehand with the racket staying flat throughout the swing. Then, before hitting any balls, swing your racket several times, letting the racket stay flat and allowing yourself to experience how it feels to swing in this new way. Once you start to hit balls, it is important not to try and keep your racket flat. You have asked Self 2 to keep it flat, so let it happen! Once having programmed the body, Self 1's only role is to be still and observe the results in a detached manner. Let me stress again that it is important not to make any conscious effort to keep the racket flat. If after a few strokes the racket does not conform to the image you gave Self 2, then reprogram and let your body swing your racket, making sure Self 1 isn't giving it the slightest assistance. Don't try to make this experiment work; if you do, Self 1 will get involved and you won't really know if Self 2 is hitting the ball unassisted or not.

Two Experiments

It is important not only to understand intellectually the difference between letting it happen and making it happen, but to experience the difference. To experience the difference is to know the difference. To this end, let me suggest two experiments. The first involves trying to hit a stationary target with a tennis ball. Place a tennis-ball can in the backhand corner of one of the service courts. Then figure out how you should swing your racket in order to hit the can. Think about how high to toss the ball, about the proper angle of your racket at impact, the proper weight flow, and so forth. Now aim at the can and attempt to hit it. If you miss, try again. If you hit it, try to repeat whatever you did so that you can hit it again. If you follow this procedure for a few minutes, you will experience what I mean by "trying hard" and making yourself serve.

After you have absorbed this experience, move the can to the backhand corner of the other service court for the second half of the experiment. This time stand on the baseline, breathe deeply a few times and relax. Look at the can. Then visualize the path of the ball from your racket to the can. See the ball hitting the can right on the label. If you like, shut your eyes and imagine yourself serving, and the ball hitting the can. Do this several times. If in your imagination the ball misses the can, that's all right; repeat the image a few times until the ball hits the target. Now, take no thought of how you should hit the ball. Don't try to hit the target. Ask your body, Self 2, to do whatever is necessary to hit the can, then let it do it. Exercise no control; correct for no imagined bad habits. Having programmed yourself with the desired flight of the ball, simply trust your body to do it. When you toss the ball up, focus your attention on its seams, then let the serve serve itself. The ball will either hit or miss the target. Notice exactly where it lands. You should free yourself from any emotional reaction to success or failure; simply know your goal and take objective interest in the results. Then serve again. If you have missed the can, don't be surprised and don't try to correct for your error. This is most important. Again focus your attention on the can; then let the serve serve itself. If you faithfully do not try to hit the can, and do not attempt to correct for your misses, but put full confidence in your body and its computer, you will soon see that the serve is correcting itself. You will experience that there really is a Self 2 who is acting and learning without being told what to do. Observe this process; observe your body making the changes necessary in order to come nearer and nearer to the can. Of course, Self 1 is very tricky and it is most difficult to keep him from interfering a little, but if you quiet him a bit, you will begin to see Self 2 at work, and you will be as amazed as I have been at what it can do, and how effortlessly.

The second experiment I would recommend in order to experience the reality of Self 2 begins with picking some change you would like to make in one of your strokes. For instance, choose a bad habit that you have been trying unsuccessfully to alter. Then on the court, ask a friend to throw you twenty balls and try to correct the habit. Tell him what you are trying to do and ask him to observe if it is correcting. Try hard; try the way you are used to in attempting to change a habit. Experience this kind of trying. Observe how you feel if you fail. Also note whether you feel awkward or tight. Now try to practice your corrected stroke while rallying. Then see what happens when you play a match.

Next, pick another habit you would like to change, or even the same one. (If the habit has not been corrected by your first efforts, it would be interesting to work on the same one.) Ask your friend to throw you five or ten balls. During this, make no attempt to change your stroke; simply observe it. Don't analyze it, just observe it carefully; experience where your racket is at all times. Changes may occur while you are merely observing your stroke nonjudgmentally, but if you feel further correction is needed, then "program for form." Show yourself exactly what you want Self 2 to do. Give it a clear visual image, moving your racket slowly in the desired path, and let yourself watch it very closely. Then repeat the process, but this time feel exactly what it's like to move your racket in this new manner.

Having programmed yourself with an image and a feeling, you are ready to hit some balls. Now focus your eyes and mind on the seams of the ball and let it happen. Then observe what happened. Once again, don't analyze; simply see how close Self 2 came to doing what you wanted it to. If your racket didn't follow exactly the path you had programmed, then reprogram and let the stroke happen again. Continue this process, letting Self 1 relax more and more with each ball. Soon you will see that Self 2 can be trusted. Long-standing habits can be altered in a few moments. After twenty balls or so, ask your friend to rally again with you. Be sure you don't try to make this experiment work by attempting to do it "right" when playing; merely continue to observe the precise part of your swing that is changing. Watch it with detachment and care as you would watch someone else's stroke. Watch it, and it will change quite effortlessly by its own smooth process. Perhaps this seems too good to be true. I can only suggest that you experiment and see for yourself.