No Coaching from the Sidelines/The Inside Game

I took my 11-year-old son Ax to tennis with Coach Tommy last week and sat on the mom bench by the side of the court.  Ax had had two big wins at the tournament the weekend before, followed by a predictable yet demoralizing loss to Teflon Tufferson in the final round.

I remember watching my kid’s energy go from 10 while winning to -10 while losing. As a parent spectator, I got to silently witness him wilt in the heat and pressure and disappointment.  I refrained from shouting “you got this!” or “deep breath reset!” or any of the myriad helpful tips I might have lobbed over the fence.  “No Coaching from the Sidelines” was a sacred rule in the 13-and-under league.  After the match I gave hugs and snacks and “good jobs” and left the coaching to his coach.

Coach Tommy, to Ax, on the court: “Do you know who’s your first opponent?”

Ax looked at him blankly, my boy-man exhausted after a long day of school and still dejected from the day before’s loss.

“The other guy?” Ax asked, pointing to the other side of the court.

Long pause, eye gazing, suspense build — “Yourself.” Coach revealed, pointing to his own chest.

Coach Tommy was not usually a wordy guy, more of a feed balls, play balls, give encouragement and reminders in a word or two kind of guy. Like,

“Nice!”

“Fast feet!”

“Get there!”

“Way to get there!”

“Up, up, up to it! Yessss!”

But today, he intuited that Ax was hungry for more, and he fed him some deep wisdom: “On the court I am my first opponent. I need to show up ready to play, confident, athletic body language, every ball, no matter what the score is. The great thing about tennis is you can be down 6-0 and still come back if you keep going at it and don’t let up. 

“All I need to think about is, ‘How am I doing? How am I showing up to play?’  The other guy is gonna do what he’s doing.  There’s always going to be a better player.  If I’m thinking about the other guy I’m in trouble.  But if I’m focused on my energy, my strokes, my game, even if I lose I can feel good about how I played. That’s the inner game of tennis.”

Ax nodded, serious, his face barely visible under his baseball cap and long hair.  I wondered if he was tearing up under there, his tween hormones kicking up big emotions.

“Let’s play.” Coach Tommy said as he strode back across the court and started feeding balls.  Ax hit - Net, net, fence, over the fence, out of the court — a string of losers.

“Good swing!”

“Nice feet!”

“Up, up!” Tommy called to him. And then a shift and it was winner, winner, winner, winner.  A bizarrely long string of beautiful wicked shots by my sweet boy.  Maybe the feed had something to do with it. Maybe it was the practice. Ax felt great.

The lesson ended, we got in the car, went home, and I made tortellini.  I’m gonna keep going.