Bjorn Borg on tennis myths
This is from a biography of him published in 1980, when he was still playing the game, and this section focuses on his opinion that conventional thinking about tennis can often be wrong and shouldn't be followed rigidly by players. It's interesting, because it shows how much tennis has changed with new racquet technology but there are some aspects that are still relevant today, especially considering the success of Nadal.
Breaking down tennis myths is as difficult as learning to play tennis left-handed if you're right-handed. In the days of the Puritans, when government leaders insisted there were witches, and that they were wicked and had to be burned at the stake, they were. Officials had to be right, didn't they? So, too, in tennis, myths have been offered as truth by the 'experts' with no room for questioning. There is no process whereby a tennis axiom can be tested and tossed out if times have changed, or if the 'truth' was not true in the first place. Countless tennis tips have been passed on from generation to generation without the fresh air of a new theory or any examination of the old one.
A prime problem of instruction methods is that the degree of acceptance is often directly related to the reputation of the man teaching, regardless of whether the theory is cock-eyed or not. For instance, Hall of Famer, Jack Kramer, says that on the return of serve you should hold your racket with the forehand grip and lean to the right, or forehand, side. I do exactly the opposite, holding with the backhand grip and the racket tilting all the way to the backhand.
Another juicy bit of instruction is the advice to hit the ball on the rise. There is a macho urge to strike the ball immediately it comes off the ground. No one has bothered to add that while hitting on the rise is the ultimate offensive game and dramatic to watch and play, it is low percentage tennis; it's flashy but won't win consistently. I conclude that the advantages of hitting on the rise - the element of surprise and using your opponent's power - are marginal compared to the risks.
Hitting on the rise is like half volleying and I half volley only because I have to - not because I want to - where my opponent has trapped me out of position and I'm forced to flick at the ball without normal preparation. The advantages of hitting a ball at the top of its bounce, on the other hand, are obvious. The ball's direction will be from a high point to a low point over the net and down into the court rather than the necessary arc from low to high over the net. In addition, you have more time for preparation. Often, when I need more time to set up, I'll hit the ball as it's falling from the bounce rather than meeting it at the top. The added time is important to two-handers whose backswing requires more stages to put together. That is not to say that some players are not sometimes successful in hitting on the rise, including Connors, Fleming and McEnroe, particularly on the return of serve when they are going for a one shot winner. However, the art of hitting on the rise is an imprecise science not recommended for pros or amateurs. And the concentration required to hit continually on the rise is intense, which will be tiring in a long match.
If you expect me to offer standard advice such as, 'take your racket back, follow through, and watch the ball', stop reading. I believe tennis is a game of instinct and common sense, rather than proper grips and tedious tips. Not that a youngster doesn't need the fundamentals of stroke production, but once basic guidelines have been laid down and those fundamentals have been etched on a beginner's mind by constant practice, progress from there is a state of mind rather than a state of form.
I have broken nearly every rule recommended by instruction books for the past fifty years. For example, the normal advice on where to stand when returning serve is a foot beyond the baseline. And when receiving a second serve - a foot inside the baseline. Anyone who has seen me play knows I don't do this.
Court Position for Service Return
I position myself at least ten feet past the baseline, and when Roscoe Tanner is serving, I retreat even further back. The reason? I want to get the longest look possible at a hard serve. I need ample time to sight the direction of delivery, then wind up and swing at the ball.
To me, standing at the baseline to return serve is for show-offs. Maybe a star can play a spectacular winner standing close in, but for every winner struck, he'll miss a dozen. My idea is to get every single service return back to as to pressurize the net man into missing. Because my goal is not to hit instant winners, there is no burden on me in returning serve.
Having more time to hit the ball by standing back, plus the no-pressure frame of mind, is a devastating combination. The result is that I end up hitting more outright winners on return serve than anyone else on the pro tour. Why? The element of surprise.
Most big servers on a fast surface (the grass at Wimbledon, the asphalt at the US Open) are spoiled by being able to make thirty per cent of their first serves virtually unreturnable, meaning that thirty per cent of the time the server fires, and then relaxes. He's lulled by the flubs of players standing close to the baseline. I return every serve. This both annoys and surprises opponents. Watch the next tournament match I play against Tanner or Jimmy Connors. Many times they'll serve a ball that is normally an ace against players who return from close in and, as a result, they relax on their way to net. Midway to the service line they stand up thinking the return won't come back. But because I'm standing so far away, I have plenty of time to have a solid crack at the ball which often zips by the unprepared net man.
Why do receivers continue to stand so close in? Mostly because it's macho to face a cannonball next to the barrel, like the gladiators in the olden days chasing each other with axes or swords at close range.
Two stars - John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors - have such swift eye-to-brain-to-arm motor control that they actually see the ball coming at them sooner than other players. This phenomenal reflex capacity means that they can stand in the mouth of the cannon, so to speak, and pick up the approaching serve instantly. But even Connors, as he gets older, has started to lose this facility, leaving McEnroe as the only pro with 'radar eyes'. And McEnroe admits this ability does not help him at all in returning serve on clay, where the ball slows down enough for anyone to return it efficiently. You can add the fact that only a few fools try to serve and volley consistently on clay, and that eliminates the receiver's need to surprise the server.
As I say, the macho image has much to do with why pros and amateurs alike dig in close to the baseline to return serve. Me? I want my macho moment in the winner's enclosure rather than during a few isolated points in the match.
My advice works for beginners, too. Many amateurs crash their first serve and pitty-pat the second. I suggest standing way behind the baseline to return serve to give yourself sufficient time to take your racket back and swing, in the unlikely event of the crash serve going in. Even after a first serve fault, move in only to the point where you have ample time to prepare your stroke. Of course there is a 'give-up' in standing back. An opponent might exploit the angles of a wide serve, but the benefits of having more time, in my opinion, far outweigh the risks.
I'm not alone in my cautious philosophy of waiting for the ball far past the baseline rather than taking a bolder position right on it. Guillermo Vilas, who has one of the best clay court records in recent history, also waits patiently behind the baseline. Certainly there are some disadvantages for top pros with this style, the main one being that they have to be in extraordinary shape to execute this defensive game plan successfully. A simple study of court angles shows that you don't have to run as far if you stand in further and move along the diagonals towards the net when, in a sense, you are cutting the ball off before it becomes a punishing stroke. Also, you can use your opponent's pace more effectively if there is less distance between you and the net.
Pancho Gonzalez was one of the first proponents of manoeuvering an opponent like a puppet, while standing on the baseline tape. But Pancho hit an underspin backhand and a forehand with only moderate overspin. He was merely waiting for the first opportunity to attack.
My game is based on patience. Not attack. But my topspin drives prevent foes attacking because I have enough control to shoot my groundstrokes from side to side. If an opponent decides to come to net behind less than a perfect approach, he is playing into my strength - dipping passing shots. My game is structured so that I can direct the flow of play with steadiness, yet counterpunch against an aggressive net rusher. In other words, I don't need to take chances with a killer serve and risky full-bore volleys. I win without having the traditional big game - which should be music to everyone's ears, because the serve and volley are the game's two most difficult strokes to master.
In a sense, my design of play is perfect when used against those pros who learn their tennis 'by the book'. The 'book' methods are so routine that the unorthodox player has a big edge - he will always face foes who play according to predictable patterns. The traditionalists, on the other hand, can be upset by challengers committed to the unconventional and unexpected.
Another example of my ignoring standard instruction is my court position during a rally. Most 'experts' recommend that forehands and backhands should be tackled from approximately two feet behind the baseline. I double, and sometimes triple, that. Why? Because the exchange of groundstrokes is a game of attrition. If the baseline style is played properly, no one hits a winner from the backcourt.
There is no percentage in taking a wild poke at a forehand and hoping it will hit an inch from the sideline corner and scoot for a winner. The odds are stacked against this ploy. First, in aiming for such a small target on court, the chances are you'll miss it outright. Perhaps, by some miracle, the ball may land safely, but if you're up against a laser-fast runner like Gerulaitis, he'll track the shot down, anyhow, and you'll have to start all over again with double the odds loaded against you this time.
What is incredible to me about the 'experts'' advice on court positioning, is that no distinction is made between slow and fast surfaces. On clay, there is no reason not to give yourself plenty of time to run down shot after shot. Standing far behind the baseline gives you an opportunity to retrieve, with little fear that your foe can attack your defensive scurrying.
However, on a fast grass court, the ball tends to skid and stay low meaning you have to move closer to the baseline to scoop up the ball before it bounces twice. On cement or asphalt, groundstrokes move with greater velocity than on clay and that requires a position nearer the baseline, otherwise the ball will get out of range too quickly. Also there is a difference between returning a ball which has lost its power and returning a ball, from the same location, that still has plenty of force behind it.
What all this really means is that you should be flexible in your overall approach to tennis. Don't get trapped by cast iron rules. Just as every player is either taller, shorter, lighter, heavier, stronger, or weaker than his opponent, so too do situations and abilities to meet them vary enormously from player to player.
For instance, being two-handed means that my reach is shorter on the backhand than every 'one-handed' player. This suggests that I need more time to get into position anywhere on court, and that, particularly on the volley, I must prepare my approach to net more carefully than Gerulaitis or McEnroe, who both have machine-gun reactions in the forecourt.
But the best example of the need for adaptability is at Wimbledon. Since I have won Wimbledon four times in a row, it is difficult to argue that my tennis is inflexible. This great Championship is the only major title on grass - and the pros must adjust to the surface remarkably quickly to survive even a few rounds.
To the true Wimbledon expert, there must also be a subtle but crucial adjustment made between the first and second weeks at Wimbledon. During the first five days of play on the sacred surface at the All England Club, the pitch is lush, green and fast, forcing lightning low bounces, and sometimes no bounces at all. The forceful servers tend to have unusual success the first week, even if the rest of their game is not of the same high standard. I am forced to serve and volley the first week because I can't afford to let the ball touch the ground, so erratic and rapid is its bounce.
But by the second week, the grass has become worn down and is brown from the heavy pounding of hundreds of tennis shoes on the turf. The Centre Court is so packed and solid that it plays very much like clay, my favourite surface. By the quarter-finals, the playing surface is so even and true that I can afford the luxury of staying back on serve and swapping groundstrokes. That's my strength.
If my message about the demand for innovation and originality in tennis is still not getting through, it should encourage every novice to know that the very first thing I did in tennis was wrong according to all the teaching pros. I used the western forehand grip with a closed racket face, which everyone said was too wristy and unreliable. I was told that no modern champion used the western grip and I was given a lot of advice in the beginning to change to a more accepted approach. Well, my forehand has become my best shot. I'm glad I didn't listen.
The point is that tennis is a highly personalized game. You should do what seems to work for you, rather than be regimented into a lock-step stroke that may be safe and easy to teach, but does not allow your unique talent to emerge.
My backhand is equally unorthodox, double-handed, with a closed racket face, and full of wrist. Because my basic foundation in stroke mechanics is so untraditional, the results are also unusual. For instance, the bedrock of all groundstroke instructions is to hit the ball with great depth, i.e. 'a ball hitting within a foot of the baseline is an excellent shot'. Not the way I play tennis. I believe successful tennis is a game of consistency and of taking advantage of proper percentages. Though my passing shots often look spectacular, there is a huge safety factor built into them.
Spin and Depth
If I strike a groundstroke that lands a foot from my opponent's baseline, it's a mistake, because I'm only aiming for two yards past the service box, for security. My groundstrokes are so wristy that it would be impossible to control a ball aimed for the baseline with regularity. I do get depth, however, by using murderous topspin, which carries the ball deep into the backcourt after the bounce. In this fashion I achieve depth and keep a margin for error.
All this is possible because of my 'crazy' western forehand grip and my wristy two-handed backhand, both of which force me to hit with exaggerated overspin. Violent topspin is my trademark, and if I hadn't had the courage to improvise when I was young, and shatter the conventional beliefs about grips and depth, I might still be struggling through the qualifying rounds at Wimbledon, rather than aiming for a string of successive titles.
I'm advising you not to be preoccupied by rigid rules of instruction; learn your own talents and never be afraid of experimenting with what suits your game best. Remember, I'm trying to teach you to get the ball and your mind over the net.
There's a lot of fascinating stuff in there - it shows what the tactical thinking of many players was like back in the era of wooden racquets, especially on clay, and we can see how some of it still applies today but other aspects have been overtaken by modern technology. I mean, the young Agassi was the perfect example of the flashy but erratic hitter on the rise that Borg mentions, but he's refined the tactic and made it so successful that it's a prerequisite for a lot of current players.
Equally, Nadal's achievements on clay this year show that the surface hasn't been changed nearly as much by new technology/improvements in strength and fitness as the faster surfaces have been. So much of what Borg cites as his major weapons, his consistency and attritional style plus the use of topspin to achieve depth without having to aim for the lines, rings true with Nadal at the moment. On the other hand, the return position of Guga, the most recent great claycourter, on hardcourts has often been noted as a big weakness and a reason why he was never quite as successful on hard, and people now say that Nadal needs to make the same adjustments and stand closer in to the baseline to get the better of big servers on fast courts.
The Wit and Wisdom of the Tennis Journalist, Indian Wells 2004
ROGER FEDERER: Yeah, I remember this one time when I went on a vacation on the Maldives. That was in the year 2001, I think. I went to this spa. I went to walk around with my girlfriend. I walk in, and we want to book a spa. This guy goes, "AHH, I remember you. You beat Sampras. I saw you on TV." That was like, really, how can you remember me? This guy has probably never been off his island and still knows me. I was a little bit shocked. Then I went to play tennis with him because he was actually the tennis teacher. It was nice.
Q. Were you naked at the time in the spa?
ROGER FEDERER: No. It was at the front desk. I didn't walk in naked.