I played in the state singles racquetball championships over the weekend.
I won my first B match on Friday night against a 15 yr-old kid who had his whole family there cheering him on. He had a bad case of the jitters the first game and I won easily 15-3. But he settled down in game two and jumped out to a 10-5 lead and I was starting to worry. At one point one of his family members challenged the ref on the score, saying that I’d been mistakenly given an extra point and that the kid had been shorted a point. I’m notoriously bad at keeping track of the score, plus I often can’t hear the ref with all the background noise, so I really didn’t know what the score was. But unless my opponent is a real asshole, I never contest these scoring confusions. I figure that since most of the scoring is due to skill and not luck, one point here or there in the middle of a game ain’t important to squabble about. Plus, the kid was likable and I was sort of rooting for him to play well in front of his family and hometown fans. So much for my killer instinct. Oddly, my play improved after that, and once I tied the score at 11 all, he got nervous again (I could just hear him saying to himself ‘C’mon, don’t blow it!) and I won 15-11.
Saturday had it all. My first match in the 50+ Open bracket was one to remember. I had a dozen-plus fellow club members and other geezers in my age bracket cheering me on. Having people watch me play and root for me used to make me a more nervous, but I’ve pretty much gotten over it by joking around with them between points which helps me relax. This was a little more challenging because a couple of very attractive spouses were watching, too. My male ego reared it’s ugly head but I had the sense to say to myself, “Ah, it doesn’t matter. That’s just your stupid male ego. Just play.” Lesson (potentially) learned #1.
I lost the first game 15-13 and was down 10-5 in the second. I wasn’t playing terribly, but I knew I wasn’t particularly playing well, either. The guy was being a bit of jerk, challenging the ref’s calls on short serves and claiming visuals hinders at odd times. The ref wasn’t assertive enough to make the calls himself and always looked to me to see if I agreed or not. I always agreed to replay the point. I finally treated one of these instances as a ‘jerk-alerts’ — a mental trigger to just concentrate harder. I got in the groove — not quite The Zone — for ten minutes, jumping out to a 14-11 lead. I could feel everything working as I suddenly began playing up to my ability. But then my concentration lapsed as I began thinking about winning instead of just playing, and he tied it at 14-14. I then caught myself, “Ah, I’m worried about losing, so now I’m tight and playing shitty.” Lesson (potentially) learned #2. A did a couple of quick relaxation techniques and felt a small amount of calm return. We each served a couple of times for game point, and each made some great shots to stay in it. I won with a dink shot that I know I can only make when my arm and wrist are completely relaxed. I did my 555 routine before the tiebreaker and came out smoking, jumping to an 8-0 lead. I had a short lapse and he got 3 quick points, but I got it back and served out for an 11-3 win.
My next match in the 50+ Open bracket was against the perennial champion. I knew I didn’t have much of a chance to win, but I figured if I could play “out of my mind” he might get mentally freaked about possibly losing to an inferior opponent. I played about as well as I can play — though not “out of my mind” — and he destroyed me in two straight, 15-5, 15-6. I came away feeling satisfied about my performance.
I watched my next opponent in the B bracket beat a fellow club member right before I was to play him. Some of our local club members who were watching kept making comments about how this guy wasn’t that good, shaking their heads in amazement. “You’ll beat him easily, Griff,” they said. “Okay, good, I could use an easy match,” I thought. Wrong thought to think. As soon as I got behind, I started with the “C’mon, you should be beating this guy!” mental noise. This is in retrospect — I didn’t notice the mental trap I was in at the time. No one was watching the match other than my opponent’s kid, and I remember feeling glad about this — no one there to observe my collapse. Another wrong thought to think, and again, another one I didn’t notice at the time. I kept thinking my relaxation and concentration techniques would bail me out. I took a couple of time outs to do my 555 routine and came back to the court feeling better, but it didn’t matter once play resumed. I lost both games 15-10, 15-8. The guy was deceptively good — amazingly accurate, and rarely skipping the ball — and he went on to beat two more guys to reach the finals where he ultimately lost. But I should have beaten him. I realize now that my mental toughness techniques are no match for mistaken thinking. I have to notice and discard the goofy thoughts as they occur. Lesson (potentially) learned #3.
My Sunday match in the 50+ Open bracket was puzzling. I’d watched my opponent get killed 15-0 by the number two draw in the bracket, playing in the glass-walled court with a large audience. He choked. But he settled down in game two, losing 15-14, and I could tell he was a better player than me. When our match began, I assumed I could play at the level I did in the match against the perennial champion. Wrong. And again, I didn’t notice this mental trap. He was on, and I wasn’t. I got clobbered, 15-6, 15-9 and this time I didn’t feel good about losing to a superior opponent. Lesson (potentially) learned #4.
So there you have it. Probably more than you want to know, but hey, it helped me to write it all out.
