The Fundamentality of Mentality
Written by Abigail Johnson
There are several phrases that get thrown around in tennis. They turn into clichés, regurgitated without a second thought. A notable example goes along the lines of: “Nick Kyrgios would win Grand Slam titles if he cared enough, and if he had the focus.”
If you stop to examine this kind of statement, you might begin, ironically, to unearth the inconsistencies of it. To say that a player would be one of the world's best if they had the focus is to say that they are completely missing an element of their game required for success.
Focus, drive and commitment, after all, fall under the umbrella of the mentality. Yet never do you hear the comment that a player is a serve, return, forehand or backhand away from greatness. And while Kyrgios is one of the more high-profile “raw talents” of the game, he is far from the only competitor to have struggled with inner battles.
One of the most exciting talents I have personally witnessed in recent years was at an ATP Challenger event in 2018. The kid in question had all the components of someone headed for the top 50: a big, versatile serve, firepower off the forehand and backhand, nimble movement. But he currently sits outside the top 200, having lacked two essentials over the past couple of seasons: physical fitness, and consistency.
Anyone who has attended Challenger and Futures tournaments will know that the hotshots and entertaining rallies enjoyed at ATP and WTA level are often on display. This should not be surprising. While game styles vary, every competitor has achieved a world ranking due to technical and tactical proficiency. The biggest difference between these levels is not the ability to hit a certain shot, but the ability to regularly produce it in the key moments of matches – and, more broadly, the utter focus to consistently string wins together. As Rafael Nadal himself alludes to in his 2010 book “Rafa: My Story”, the gap between players in the top 50 and those ranked a couple of hundred spots behind is far more mental than physical.
Once this is understood, claims such as “Player X only needs a better focus to crack the elite” suddenly look incredibly flippant. It suggests a quick fix: that if the player in question were simply to care, then all problems would be solved. But just as the backhand requires a variety of factors – positioning, footwork, balance, timing – to create the final result, so the game of the mind is also complex. Players can struggle psychologically not for lack of motivation, but because the fierceness of their desire results in tightness and frustration.
I've written about tennis for five or six years, and commentated on it for almost two. It has become increasingly apparent that good commentary requires reading the body language as much as the point. It is key to note the reactions of players to certain situations, to watch the effects of scoreboard pressure, and to analyse why repeated scenarios have occurred.
A player's mindset is the base of their pyramid, the groundwork that allows everything else to take shape. Talent is nothing without it, for a forehand cannot find the line without conviction and control. Self-belief, or the lack of it, can win or lose a match before the player has even stepped out on court, and a level head is a common theme among all legends of the game.
The holy trinity of men's tennis – Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic and Nadal – are not immune to experiencing moments of waywardness, but they identify the points they must peak for in the grand scheme of matches, and have the confidence to do so consistently.
What makes it so difficult, then, for observers to treat mentality with the same degree of necessity as the forehand and backhand, serve and return? Why is it viewed as secondary to the physical?
The fact is that nobody sees the foundations of a building. And what people do not see, they often give no thought to. Placing so much value on the impact of the mind actually goes against the unwritten laws of the society that we currently inhabit. There is an emphasis on appearance over quality, on presenting over being. We live in a world where opinions are based on what we can see and touch and taste and observe.
But the mentality itself is not something that is physical. In the same way that we cannot see the wind, but we can see objects moved by it, the only evidence of the mentality – good or bad – is the actions that result from it.
Only something below the surface can explain why Player X nails a one-two punch in the third game of a match, but dumps the exact same combination into the net at the back end of the third set. Every movement made on the court is rooted in the mind. To some extent, there is a constant inner argument between a player and their toughest opponent – themselves – throughout a contest. There is a relentless battle not to let one or two unforced errors derail the concentration, and to stay in the moment when things are going dangerously smoothly.
And mentality is not confined to the match court. Equally invisible to the watching world is what a player does or does not do away from competition, when points are not in play and cameras are not rolling. This is where success on court becomes a possibility.
At a Futures event last year, I observed how a certain player remained largely withdrawn between contests while others mingled. Not rudely – just with an air of concentration and focus. When their matches finished, they would head back out to work on their shots for another half hour or so, before heading to the gym. This particular player claimed the trophy in straightforward fashion.
Tennis is harshly demanding in terms of time, money and physicality. Therefore, those that go the furthest are not necessarily the most naturally-gifted, or the most entertaining, but those with a “champion's mentality”: the motivation and long-term vision to continuously make choices off the court that will put them in the best possible position on it.
Take Djokovic, for example. The 17-time Grand Slam champion was fast establishing himself alongside Federer and Nadal in the late 2000s, but was a victim of exhaustion and physical letdown on a concerning number of occasions. The most imperious thing about the Serb nowadays, rather than a trademark shot, is his steadfast refusal to go away during rallies, and the way he applies pressure long after others would have crumbled. But this pinnacle strength, and his 2011 season of three Grand Slam titles and a 43-match winning streak, were only achieved after he cut gluten from his diet.
The further up the rankings ladder you go, the slimmer the margins become. Small alterations can make a huge difference.
Back in January, a 14-and-unders junior event took place in the UK. The talent was undeniable, but the tensions were high. There was crying between points, crying at changeovers and crying in the toilets.
Amidst the drama, I sensed something special about a 12-year-old girl taking on a seeded opponent in round two. While she used the full length of the court and dictated convincingly, it was not just her clean strokes that were impressive. More than a few of the kids here could pack a good punch. The most instrumental moments of her match occurred between points, far behind the baseline. Quite audibly, notably calm, she coached herself – with the air and maturity of a teacher talking to a student. This continued the following day, when she defeated her second successive seeded opponent – this time with a double bagel.
When I mentioned my observations to the girl's mother, she shared that her daughter had worked with a “mind coach” the previous year. While coach and daughter had not had contact for some months, it had already made the world of difference.
Facing her fourth straight seeded opponent in the final, a girl who had struck with equally-impressive authority all week, the 12-year-old's quick start and unshakeable positivity sent the walls tumbling early. She won the event with little fuss.
Meanwhile, over on the WTA circuit, red-hot rising star Elena Rybakina had reached back-to-back finals heading into the 2020 Australian Open. While the 20-year-old's fluid shot-making is pleasant to watch, her groundstroke game is not overly distinguishable from many others on the tour. The 20-year-old stands at 6'0”, but her greatest asset is not her big serve, nor her forehand. It is the way that her game face and attitude are totally unaltered by the scoreboard.
To suggest that the issue of mentality is as shallow as “they held their nerve” or “they choked” betrays ignorance. Only once you truly acknowledge the invisible can you even begin to understand the physical – and, indeed, the structure of tennis itself.
For the player, the end result of that understanding will vary in what it looks like for each individual. But it will always be success.
And for the observer, the end result will be respect.
About Abigail
Abigail is a presenter, commentator, journalist and writer. And as you can see, tennis is her thing. She is vastly experienced and works freelance - producing amazing content. For work enquiries and further questions, hit her up via her social links below.
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