To hear my students tell the stories of their losses on the occasions that I
couldn’t be there, you would think that somehow professional players sneaked
their way into league matches. Routinely, their litanies included:
“Every lob they hit grazed the back line.”
“Their serves were so good we could rarely return them.”
“Their service returns were bullets. They were just so awesome!”
I was skeptical. This kind of acquiescence is dangerous, and as I saw this
attitude being perpetuated by some of my most talented doubles teams, I realized
that they were often unable to hold big leads in matches or to convert match
points. I decided to try something. To combat these untimely negative thoughts
and crises of confidence, I hit upon the idea of the monkey.
If I were to tell a team not to have negative thoughts during an important
match, it would be tantamount to saying, just as they were about to take the
court, “Oh, by the way, Pam and Jill, make sure you don’t think about pink
elephants” Of course, thousands of pink elephants wearing tutus would frolic
endlessly before their eyes for two hours. All good sports psychologists will
say that in order to eliminate negative thinking, one must first acknowledge the
existence of these thoughts. Thus, the monkey.
I told all of my players that they each had a monkey on their shoulder and that
this arrangement was permanent.
Each player had to name her monkey and become acquainted.
I explained that just as things got tight in a match, or even as
victory was peaking around the corner, the monkey would begin to spout endless
drivel such as:
“You cannot possibly keep playing this well.”
“You’re just lucky. They’re better than you are.”
“You’re finished now. They’re catching up.”
“You can’t buy a service return.”
“Maybe if they close their eyes and lay down on the court, you can win a point.”
The possiblities are endless, but my players got the idea. I explained that you
cannot ever tell the monkey to shut up because she simply will not. I asked
them to acknowledge the presence of the monkey, and her accompanying negativity,
and say to that little beast, “Yeah, I know you’re there. I wondered when you would pipe up,
but listen, you devious little saboteur, I’ve got a match to win here and I’m going
to do it in spite or what you spew at me.”
Doing battle with the monkey and verbalizing who’s in charge helps players focus
on the ball and the point so they aren’t undermined by the monkey.
Often the monkey’s voice can be very subtle. Once I asked one of my teams, who
had just completed probably the finest set of the season, what happened in the
second set, because their play had fallen off so dramatically. They said they
had no idea. When I asked if they had begun to doubt themselves, one player
replied, No, all I thought about was ‘Wow, I sure am playing well after this
foot operation.'” This is the subtle monkey speak and is often enough to send
any player into a huge downward spiral. I also cautioned players about those
monkeys who are clever enough to become ventriloquists. The gamesmanship
employed during the match by opponents of dubious ethics is really very
clever “monkey speak.”
“How do you hit that overhead so hard?”
“Have you changed your forehand since we last played?”
“How can you drink water with so much ice in it? It would give me a headache.”
“My day has been so crazy, I knew I’d be distracted and you two would be tough
to beat.”
This shrewd “monkey speak” is devilishly designed to get an opponent thinking
about anything but winning the match. “Oh, the poor girl, I know how she must
feel being so distracted.” A stomach ache or a forehand gone south is on the
horizon.
In the end, I suggested that all of my players get on intimate terms with their
personal monkeys. I encouraged them to feed and water the pesky critters, name
them, and with any luck they might get them to sleep through their next match.
The monkey concept is just one way of curtailing negativity on the court that
leads to the fear of losing. A team can crumble on the court if they feel they
are fighting more than just their opponents on the other side of the net. Fear
and low esteem are contagious and must be eliminated if the team is to sustain
the positive energy needed to be successful.
Several weeks ago, I e-mailed a team who had travelled out of state to play a
national tournament. I asked how they did. The more timid of the two under
pressure replied with just one sentence, “George slept through the match.”
May you confront the monkey in your next match—-dispute her drivel—-and take
care of business!!
By Pat Blaskower Author of The Art of Doubles (a must read)
What You’re Saying