The Art of Lawn Tennis quotes

To R. D. K. AND M. W. J. MY "BUDDIES" W. T. T. 2D

Tennis is at once an art and a science.

The game as played by such men as Norman E. Brookes, the late Anthony Wilding, William M. Johnston, and R. N. Williams is art.

He should be certain that it is based on sound principles and, once assured of that, follow it, even though his progress seems slow and discouraging.

I began tennis wrong.

My strokes were wrong and my viewpoint clouded. I had no early training such as many of our American boys have at the present time.

Never be discouraged at slow progress. The trick over some stroke you have worked over for weeks unsuccessfully will suddenly come to you when least expected. Tennis players are the product of hard work. Very few are born geniuses at the game.

Tennis is a game that pays you dividends all your life. A tennis racquet is a letter of introduction in any town.

The brotherhood of the game is universal, for none but a good sportsman can succeed in the game for any lengthy period. Tennis provides relaxation, excitement, exercise, and pure enjoyment to the man who is tied hard and fast to his business until late afternoon.

I am trying to make clear the importance of such first principles as I will now explain.

Tennis is played primarily with the mind.

The most perfect racquet technique in the world will not suffice if the directing mind is wandering. There are many causes of a wandering mind in a tennis match. The chief one is lack of interest in the game.

Thus the importance of getting the ball in play cannot be too greatly emphasized.

Every time you put the ball back to your opponent you give him another chance to miss.

There are several causes for missing strokes. First, and by far the largest class, is not looking at the ball up to the moment of striking it.

that a tennis court is always the same size, with the net the same height and in the same relation to you at all times, so there is no need to look at it every moment or so to see if it has moved.

Only an earthquake can change its position.

As to your opponent, it makes little difference about his position, because it is determined by the shot you are striving to return. Where he will be I will strive to explain in my chapter on court position;

Where he will be I will strive to explain in my chapter on court position; but his whereabouts are known without looking at him.

You are not trying to hit him. You strive to miss him.

Therefore, since you must watch what you strive to hit and not follow what you only wish to miss, keep your eye on the ball, and let your opponent take care of himself.

Do not always play one length drive, but learn to vary your distance according to your man. You should drive deep against a baseliner, but short against a net player, striving to drop them at his feet as, he comes in.

Never allow your opponent to play a shot he likes if you can possibly force him to one he dislikes.

Again I urge that you play your drive:

Wallace F. Johnson is seldom caught out of position, so his game is one of extreme ease. One seldom sees Johnson running hard on a tennis court. He is usually there awaiting the ball's arrival.

Save your steps by using your head. It pays in the end.

Time spent in learning where to play on a tennis court is well expended, since it returns to you in the form of matches won, breath saved, and energy conserved.

We hear a great deal about the "shots we have made." Few realize the importance of the "shots we have missed."

The science of missing shots is as important as that of making them, and at times a miss by an inch is of more value than a, return that is killed by your opponent.

Let me explain. A player drives you far out of court with an angle-shot. You run hard to it, and reaching, drive it hard and fast down the side- line, missing it by an inch.

Do it by a desire for personal glory, or team success, or by a love of competition in matching your wits against the other man's, but do it some way.

Do, not think that tennis is merely a physical exercise. It is a mental cock-tail of a very high "kick."

The first and most important point in match play is to know how to lose. Lose cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman. This is the first great law of tennis, and the second is like unto it—to win modestly, cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman.

Do, not think that tennis is merely a physical exercise. It is a mental cock-tail of a very high "kick."

The first and most important point in match play is to know how to lose.

Lose cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman. This is the first great law of tennis, and the second is like unto it—to win modestly, cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman.

The object of match play is to win, but no credit goes to a man who does not win fairly and squarely.

A victory is a defeat if it is other than fair.

Yet again I say to win is the object, and to do so, one should play to the last ounce of his strength, the last gasp of his breath, and the last scrap of his nerve.

If, however, you have dropped the first set in a 2 out of 3 match with but one or two games, now you are outclassed and should try something else.

Take chances when you are behind, never when ahead.

Risks are only worth while when you have everything to win and nothing to lose. It may spell victory, and at least will not hasten defeat. Above all, never lose your nerve or confidence in a match.

Remember that he feels just as bad as you, and any sign of weakening on your part encourages him to go on. In other words, keep your teeth always in the match.

Don't worry. Don't fuss. Luck evens up in the long run, and to worry only upsets your own game without affecting your opponent.

A smile wins a lot of points because it gives the impression of confidence on your part that shakes that of the other man. Fight all the time. The harder the strain the harder you should fight, but do it easily, happily, and enjoy it.

Match play should stimulate a player. He should produce his best under the excitement of competition. Learn your shots in practice, but use them in matches.

Practice is played with the racquet, matches are won by the mind.

J. C. Parke is a great match player, because he is not only a great player but a great student of men. He sizes up his opponent, and seizes every opening and turns it to his own account. Norman E.

A player who plays for the joy of the game wins the crowd the first time he steps on the court.

All the world loves an optimist.

The more tennis I play, the more I appreciate my sense of humour.

Suddenly my feet went out and I rolled over on the ground, sliding some distance, mainly on my face. I arose, dripping, just in time to hear, sotto voce, in the gallery at my side:

"A little bit crushed, that Peach."

The sense of humour of the speaker was delightful. The whole side-line howled with joy, and the joke was on me.

The disgusted opponent looked up and muttered:

"Fly? Huh! I'll bet it's a splinter!"

There was a certain young player who was notoriously lax in his eyesight on decisions. He could never see one against himself. He became noted in his own locality.

I picked up much tennis in those days, for I have worked at the ball-boy position for Parke, Crawley, Dixon, Larned, Wright, and Ward.

Singles, the greatest strain in tennis, is the game for two players.

It is in this phase of the game that the personal equation reaches its crest of importance. This is the game of individual effort, mental and physical.

H. Roper-Barrett, Stanley Doust, Harold H. Hackett, Samuel Hardy, and Holcombe Ward, all doubles players of the very highest order, were, and are, well liked and deservedly popular, but are not idolized as were M'Loughlin or Wilding.

Singles is a game of the imagination, doubles a science of exact angles.

Doubles is four-handed tennis. Enough of this primary reader definition. I only used that so as not to be accused of trying to write over the heads of the uninitiated.

It requires more than speed of shot to beat two men over a barrier 3 to 3 1/2 feet high with a distance of some 32 feet. It is angles, pace, and accuracy that should be the aim in a great doubles game.

Resource, versatility, and subtlety, not speed, win doubles matches.

Lawn tennis is the outgrowth of the old French game of the courts of the early Louis. It spread to England, where it gained a firm hold on public favour. The game divided;

I believe that 1950 will find the game of tennis on a plane undreamed of to-day.

Tennis is still in its infancy. May I have the pleasure to help in rocking the cradle.

My task is completed. I have delved into the past, analysed the present, and prophesied the future, with a complete disregard of conventions and traditions.

Meanwhile Washburn had dropped by the wayside to me 6-2, 6-2 and young Richards and I took up our annual battle.

Youth is cruel. The world is cruel. Life is hard.

I know it, for Vinnie, with care and discretion, quietly led me along the Road of the Has-Beens, where he deposited me to the tune of 6-1, 6-2, 1-6, 6-0.

… attend all big events to witness the giants of the court, in short, "The Dubs" (with a capital D), who make tennis what it is, and to whom tennis owes its life, since they are its support and out from them have come our champions.

Champions are not born. They are made.

They emerge from a long, hard school of defeat, dis- encouragement, and mediocrity, not because they are born tennis players, but because they are endowed with a force that transcends discouragement and cries "I will succeed."

One of the most picturesque figures and delightfully polished tennis games in the world are joined in that volatile, temperamental player, Andre Gobert of France.

He is a typically French product, full of finesse, art, and nerve, surrounded by the romance of a wonderful war record of his people in which he bore a magnificent part, yet unstable, erratic, and uncertain.

At his best he is invincible. He is the great master of tennis. At his worst he is mediocre. Gobert is at once a delight and a disappointment to a student of tennis.

At his best he is invincible. He is the great master of tennis. At his worst he is mediocre.

Gobert is at once a delight and a disappointment to a student of tennis.

Gobert's service is marvellous. It is one of the great deliveries of the world.

He is a clever court general but not a great tennis thinker, playing more by instinct than by a really deep-laid plan of campaign.

Laurentz might beat anyone in the world on his day or lose to the veriest dub when at his worst.

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His footwork is a defiance of all rules. His volleying game looks like an accident, yet Mishu produces results. In 1921 he beat A. H. Gobert in the World's Hard Court Championship at St. Cloud.

Mishu is a winner. I don't know how he does it but he does.

He is above all a unique personality. Cheery, individual, at times eccentric, Mishu is a popular figure in tournaments abroad. He plays with a verve and abandon that appeals to the European galleries while his droll humour and good nature make him a delightful opponent.

Mrs. Mallory was the woman of the hour. She marched on to victory and successfully defended her title by virtue of victories over Mrs. May Sutton Bundy in the semi-final and Miss Mary Browne in the final.

Marvellous Molla! World's Champion in 1921 beyond shadow of dispute!

It is deplorable that the quite natural reaction and nervous upset, coupled with a return of her bronchial illness, forced Mlle. Lenglen to return to France before she was able to play her exhibition tour for the Committee for Devastated France.

Hazel Wightman is as clever a court general and tactician, man or woman, as I have ever known. She has forgotten more tennis than most of us ever learn.

She is the Norman Brookes of woman's tennis.

It is not only in her game that Mrs. Wightman has stood for the best in tennis, but she has given freely of her time and ability to aid young players in the game. She made Marion Zinderstein Jessop the fine player she is. Mrs.

Hazel Wightman is as clever a court general and tactician, man or woman, as I have ever known.

She has forgotten more tennis than most of us ever learn.

She is the Norman Brookes of woman's tennis.

The tennis this child plays is phenomenal. She serves with the power and accuracy of a boy. She drives and chops forehand and backhand with reckless abandon. She rushes to the net and kills in a way that is reminiscent of Maurice McLoughlin.

Suddenly she dubs the easiest sort of a shot and grins a happy grin.

There is no doubt she is already a great player. She should become much greater. She is a miniature Hazel Wightman in her game. Above all, she is that remarkable combination, an unspoiled child and a personality.

Her change of pace and distance is wonderfully controlled. Her accuracy marvellous. Her judgment is remarkable, and the way in which she saves undue exertion is an art in itself. She gets a wonderful return for her outlay of effort.

Hers is a personality of negation.

Her manner on the court is negative, her shots alone are positive. She is never flustered, and rarely shows emotion.

Mrs. Chambers is the "Mavro" of women as regards her recovering ability. Her errors are reduced to a minimum at all times.

To err is human; but at times there is something very nearly inhuman about Mrs. Chambers' tennis.

The English-American star Elizabeth Ryan is another player of marked individuality. Born in California, Miss Ryan migrated to England while quite young. For the past decade "Bunny," as she is called, has been a prominent figure in English and Continental tournaments.

Play all drives at this height if possible. Step back to allow the ball to fall waist high if necessary rather than play it at the shoulder. Hit your forehand drive decisively but do not attempt to kill every shot.

Be accurate first and attain speed second.

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