CHAPTER II

PRACTICE, AND HOW TO IMPROVE

Players, even tournament players, often ask how they can improve. "I have been at the same stage so long; what can I do to play a better game?" That is not infrequently the question. Now I think many who are very anxious to advance go to work in the wrong way. To my mind, the great point to remember when you are practising is not that the match must be won, but that all your weak strokes must be improved. We all know our special failures; if not, some kind friend will soon point them out to us. Tackle these doggedly in practice. Strokes naturally avoided in a match should be given as much experience as possible in a knock-up game. It is the only way. Many players make the cardinal mistake of playing day after day in the same way; they starve all their weak strokes and overdo all their best ones; in fact, they play in precisely the same manner as if the occasion were an important match. If you do this, you must always preserve those weak strokes; they are not even given a chance to develop. I once asked a girl whom I noticed continually running round her back-hand in a practice game, why she did this. The characteristic answer came back: "I cannot take a back hand. I should be hopelessly beaten if I didn't run round the ball." But what does it matter if you are beaten fifty times in a practice game if you are improving your strokes? That girl's back-hand could never improve; she made absolutely no distinction between a practice game and a match. In fact, it was very little of a practice game to her. How can your game improve, or move forward, if you make no effort to strengthen what is feeble?

Practise, then, conscientiously, and with infinite patience; never mind who beats you. Take each weak stroke in turn, and determine to master it, and I think you will find that you will be amply rewarded for all your painstaking work by a vast improvement and keener enjoyment in your game. What greater delight than to feel a stroke you have always dreaded becoming easier and less embarrassing each time you use it, to know that you are genuinely advancing instead of making no progress and playing the same old bad shots time after time? I am sure you will say such a sense of achievement is worth all the trouble which must be faced and all the patience which must be exercised.

Of course in match play it is quite different. You avoid your weak strokes as much as you can; your object then is to win the game. But after discriminate practice you will find, probably to your surprise, that there are not so many weak spots after all to remove, that your game is opening out and steadily advancing. Do not get easily disheartened if you find improvement slow; for a game that is worth playing at all is worth playing well, and to play lawn tennis well you must go through a stiff apprenticeship. You must school yourself to meet disappointments and failures; you must cultivate a philosophic spirit, or you will never reach the goal of perfection. I need not say that if you wish to go forward enthusiasm is essential. Lawn tennis players never seem to me to be nearly so keen on their game as golfers. So many of them appear quite satisfied to remain at a fixed stage. They will certainly not get their handicap reduced unless there is an ardent desire to become better acquainted with the science of the game. A struggling golfer is never tired of learning talking about his pastime—often, I admit, to the annoyance of people who are not so obsessed. Nevertheless, he is on the right track; and being so thoroughly absorbed and in earnest, he ought to improve. You will find him buying every new book that comes out and poring over its pages. He may play in a few competitions, but his time is more seriously occupied with practice and improvement. He wisely deprecates the continuous strain of match play. He prefers to acquire a working knowledge of the game, to make the various strokes with some degree of accuracy, before he pits his skill against others.

I think this lack of adequate practice is one of the reasons why there is such a dearth of rising talent among lawn tennis players. Some of the competitors one meets at tournaments have been for years at exactly the same stage. They never pause to take stock of their game. They never advance or cultivate a new stroke. They go from one tournament to another, struggling to win by hook or by crook. Assisted by a generous handicap, they may win a prize, and, apparently, they are satisfied. Let me say, in regard to tournaments, that when you are taking your strokes correctly and are really adding to your knowledge of the game, open competitions are admirable, and are essential if the highest honours are to be achieved. But tournaments can very easily be overdone, especially by young players who have not completed what I may call stroke-education.