The Inner Game of Tennis

“...the will to win is a desire to fully engage in the present moment: to give our best effort and learn from every experience, with joy, love, and gratitude, for the universal gifts of life.”

How I have only just discovered this book will forever remain a mystery. Written in 1974, it is a Russian doll of text: a how-to for improving your forehand that hides a mental fitness model for any sport and leadership, which is, in essence, a spiritual text (my words, not the author’s).

I have been an avid fan of tennis since being forced to watch the Ivanišević vs Agassi Wimbledon final in 1992 in a sweaty tent on the Isle of Mull. (It poured with rain all week; there was one tent with a TV). To my great surprise, I became completely captivated - even more by Ivanišević’s passion than by bad-boy Agassi (the swoonsome centre heartthrob in the latest issue of my Smash Hits magazine, blue-tacked weeks earlier to my bedroom door).

Contrary to what one might expect of a sport’s manual, The Inner Game of Tennis recommends softness, doing less, accessing intuition from Self 2, the feeling centre and source, rather than the egoic, logical Self 1. I found parallels with the work I’ve been building on almost every page, which drove home to me how everything, from poetry to sport, philosophy, business, and romance, is so deeply intertwined: How you do one thing - and from where - is how you do everything.

A few core similarities:

  • The key to doing anything better lies in the relationship between Self 1, the conscious teller, and Self 2, our natural capabilities.

  • Learning and transformation aren’t about changing external behaviour but changing the pattern of thought behind it.

  • The teaching method is to ask questions rather than give instructions.

Suffice it to say, whether you play tennis or can’t tell your forehand from your backhand, if you have a beating heart, this book is for you. And if the ideas in it resonate (and you’re ready to put the theory into practice in your own life), you know where to find me.

Next
Next

Why Scotland Never Wins