🥒 Things I Say on the Court
The lines my crew has heard me say more times than they'd like. Tap one to see where it came from, what I mean, and why I think it actually works. I'm about a year in, so some of these I'm still figuring out.
The score doesn't really matter. It just tells me who's serving.
- What I mean
- The score is information: who serves, which side, what's next. It isn't a verdict on me.
- Why I think it works
- Attention spent on the scoreboard is attention not spent on the ball. Sports psychologists call it process focus versus outcome focus: players thinking about the next shot, instead of the result, tend to play looser and more consistently.
The long version: Why You Play →
The brain just got out of battle. It didn't store the score.
- Where it came from
- Watching my crew, and me, forget the score after every long rally.
- What I mean
- Forgetting the score isn't a character flaw. Everybody does it.
- Why I think it works
- Your brain only stores what it pays attention to. The score gets called right before the serve, and then the rally takes every bit of attention you have. The score never gets a chance to be stored, short-term or long-term.
The long version: Why You Play →
Take another one.
- Where it came from
- Crew games, every week.
- What I mean
- When a serve finds the net, or goes long or wide, I'd rather see it again than take the point. It's never a pity do-over.
- Why I think it works
- You learn a shot by hitting it. A mulligan gives the server another rep at the serve and the receiver another rep at the return, all for a point nobody would have remembered anyway.
The long version: Why You Play →The scout's version: He calls mulligans too. Only for himself.
Make them work for every point, even if I'm popping it up like a 1980s air popper.
- Where it came from
- A personality-test question: would you rather have a high floor or a high ceiling? I'd rather have the floor.
- What I mean
- You don't have to be pretty to be hard to beat.
- Why I think it works
- At rec levels, far more points end on somebody's miss than on a clean winner. Every ball you get back is one more chance for the other side to miss it.
The long version: The Reset →The scout's version: He calls the pop-up “vertical pressure.”
It's all the hardest part. The hardest part is always the thing you're learning.
- Where it came from
- Writing out the five steps of learning a shot, and noticing every one of them felt like the hardest.
- What I mean
- Whatever you're working on right now is the hard part. That's how you know you're working on the right thing.
- Why I think it works
- Learning happens right at the edge of what you can do. Coaches call it the challenge point: too easy and nothing changes, too hard and nothing sticks.
The long version: Getting Better →
A couple of degrees of paddle face and a couple percent of power. Minor tweaks, major rewards.
- Where it came from
- Step four of learning a shot: putting it where you want it.
- What I mean
- Placement isn't a new swing. It's tiny adjustments to the one you have.
- Why I think it works
- It's geometry. Across a full 44-foot court, tilting the paddle face just two degrees moves the landing spot more than a foot and a half sideways.
The long version: Getting Better →The scout's version: He hits the same spot every time until they're bored.
If a good shot was just luck, a bad one was too. Own both or own neither.
- What I mean
- Don't claim the lucky winners and blame the unlucky misses.
- Why I think it works
- People naturally credit good results to skill and bad ones to luck. Psychologists call it self-serving bias. Owning both keeps your read on your own game honest.
The long version: Getting Better →The scout's version: He takes credit for the net cord. Both directions.
Nothing exists but the sound of the ball hitting the paddle.
- Where it came from
- The ritual. It's the one time my brain actually goes quiet.
- What I mean
- Between points: eyes closed, one breath, and wait for the sound.
- Why I think it works
- A narrow focus on one outside cue, like a sound or the ball, crowds out the internal chatter. Routines built around a single simple cue are a big part of how players stay consistent under pressure.
The long version: The Mental Game →The scout's version: His routine: seven Red Bulls.
If you see empty court on your side, so does your opponent.
- Where it came from
- Getting lobbed, getting pulled wide, and watching the ball land exactly where nobody was.
- What I mean
- Empty court is a signal for both teams. When you see it, say something and move.
- Why I think it works
- Most players aim for open space first, because it's the easiest target on the court. If your side has a hole in it, it's safest to assume the other team has already seen it.
The long version: Who Gets the Lob →
The best paddle isn't the one you see the pros use. The best paddle is the one you feel works for you.
- What I mean
- Borrow one for a game, find a demo, find an ambassador. Try before you buy.
- Why I think it works
- A pro's paddle is tuned for a pro's swing, speed, and hands. The paddle that suits your grip, your arm, and how you play will help you more than the one on TV.
The long version: Finding Your Paddle →The scout's version: He owns ten. Still looking.
Playing down is a gift, not an insult.
- What I mean
- Playing with people below your level is how you pass the game on, as long as you still make them work.
- Why I think it works
- The same challenge point, from the other side of the net. Make it too easy and they learn nothing. Keep it just hard enough and they get better every game.
The long version: Why You Play →
Tap the paddle. Let it go. Come back next week.
- What I mean
- However the game went, the crew matters more than the score.
- Why I think it works
- People keep coming back to games where they feel welcome. The paddle tap is how a crew says that without making a speech.
The long version: Why You Play →