Chapter Two: Playing Out of Your Mind

Reflect on the state of mind of a player who is said to be "hot" or "on his game'. Is he thinking about how he should hit each shot? Is he thinking at all? Listen to the phrases commonly used to describe a player

at his best: "He's out of his mind"; "He's playing over his head"; "He's unconscious"; "He doesn't know what he's doing'.

The common factor in each of these descriptions is what might be called "mindlessness'. There seems to be an intuitive sense that the mind is transcended or at least in part rendered inoperative. Athletes in most sports use similar phrases, and the best of them know that their peak performance never comes when they're thinking about it.

Clearly, to play unconsciously does not mean to play without consciousness. That would be quite difficult! In fact, someone playing "out of his mind" is more aware of the ball, the court, and, when necessary, his opponent. But he is not aware of giving himself a lot of instructions, thinking about how to hit the ball, how to correct past mistakes or how to repeat what he just did. He is conscious, but not thinking, not over-trying. A player in this state knows where he wants the ball to go, but he doesn't have to "try hard" to send it there. It just seems to happen and often with more accuracy then he could have hoped for. The player seems to be immersed in a flow of action which requires his energy, yet results in greater power and accuracy. The "hot streak" usually continues until he starts thinking about it and tries to maintain it; as soon as he attempts to exercise control, he loses it.

To test this theory is a simple matter if you don't mind a littleunderhanded gamesmanship. The next time your opponent is having a hot

streak, simply ask him as you switch courts, "Say, George, what are you doing so differently that's making your forehand so good today? "If he takes the bait and 95 percent will and begins to think about how he's swinging, telling you how he's really meeting the ball out in front, keeping his wrist firm and following through better, his streak invariably will end. He will lose his timing and fluidity as he tries to repeat what he has just told you he was doing so well.

But can I learn to play "out of his mind" on purpose? How can you be consciously unconscious? It sounds like a contradiction in terms, yet this state can be achieved. Perhaps a better way to describe the player who is "unconscious" is by saying that his mind is so concentrated, so focused, that it is still. It becomes one with what the body is doing, and the unconscious or automatic functions are working without interference from thoughts. The concentrated mind has no room for thinking how well the body is doing, much less of the how-to's of the doing. When the player is in this state of concentration, he is really into the game; he is at one with racket, ball, and stroke; he discovers his true potential.

The ability to approach this state is the goal of the Inner Game. The development of inner skills is required, but it is interesting to note that if, while learning tennis, you begin to learn control of the mind, to concentrate the energy of awareness, you have learned something far more valuable than how to hit a powerful backhand. The backhand can be

used to advantage only on a tennis court, but the skill of mastering the art of effortless concentration is invaluable in whatever you set your mind to.

A major breakthrough in my attempts to understand the art of control of mind and body came when, while teaching, I again began to notice what was taking place before my eyes. Listen to the way players talk to themselves on the court: "Come on, Tom, meet the ball in front of you'.

We're interested in what is happening inside the player's mind. Who is telling who what? Most players are talking to themselves on the court all the time. "Get up for the ball'. "Keep it to his backhand'. "Keep your eyes on the ball". "Bend your knees'. The commands are endless. For some, it's like hearing a tape recording of the last lesson playing inside their head. Then, after the shot is made, another thought flashes through the mind and might be expressed as follows: "You clumsy ox, your grandmother could play better! "One day I was wondering who was talking to whom. Who was scolding and who being scolded. 'Tm talking to myself," say most people. But just who is this "I" and who the "myself"? Obviously, the "I" and the "myself" are separate entities or there would be no conversation, so one could say that within each player there are two "selves'. One, the "I," seems to give instructions; the other, "myself,"

seems to perform the action. Then "I" returns with an evaluation of the action. For clarity let's call the "teller" Self 1 and the "doer" Self 2.

Now we are ready for the first major postulate of the Inner Game: within each player the kind of relationship that exists between Self 1 and Self 2 is the prime factor in determining one's ability to translate his knowledge of technique into effective action. In other words, the key to better tennis-or better anything-lies in improving the relationship between the conscious teller, Self 1, and the unconscious, automatic doer, Self 2.