The Inner Game of Tennis: The ultimate guide to the mental side of peak performance

by W. Timothy Gallwey

‘neither mastery nor satisfaction can be found in the playing of any game without giving some attention to the relatively neglected skills of the inner game. This is the game that takes place in the mind of the player, and it is played against such obstacles as lapses in concentration, nervousness, self-doubt and self-condemnation. In short, it is played to overcome all habits of mind which inhibit excellence in performance.’

Gallwey calls the conscious self ‘Self 1’, and the unconscious, automatic self ‘Self 2’. He starts with the assumption that the way Self 1 talks to Self 2 might hold the key to sporting success and failure. He tells us to imagine these two components of the mind as different people and then to imagine what we would think of the relationship between these two individuals if we were to overhear what was being said in the endless, repetitive and often insulting instructions given by Self 1 to his or her silent partner.

‘If I assume that I am making myself more worthy of respect by winning, then I must believe, consciously or unconsciously, that by defeating someone, I am making him less worthy of respect. I can’t go up without pushing someone else down.’ Gallwey says that sport is not war, and we need to think about it differently, we have to change our metaphorical frame for how we conceptualize it. For Gallwey it’s not about winning or losing the match, it’s about ‘making the maximum effort during every point because I realize that that is where the true value lies.’

The player of the inner game comes to value the art of relaxed concentration above all other skills; he discovers a true basis for self-confidence; and he learns that the secret to winning any game lies in not trying too hard.

One day I asked myself an important question—Who was talking to whom? Who was scolding and who being scolded? “I’m talking to myself,” say most people. But just who is this “I” and who the “myself”? Obviously, the “I” and the “myself” are separate entities or there would be no conversation, so one could say that within each player there are two “selves.”

If you reflect upon your own highest moments or peak experiences, it is likely that you will recall feelings that these phrases describe. You will probably also remember them as moments of great pleasure, even ecstasy. During such experiences, the mind does not act like a separate entity telling you what you should do or criticizing how you do it. It is quiet; you are “together,” and the action flows as free as a river. When this happens on the tennis court, we are focused without trying to concentrate. We feel spontaneous and alert. We have an inner assurance that we can do what needs to be done, without having to “try hard.” We simply know the action will come, and when it does, we don’t feel like taking credit; rather, we feel fortunate, “graced.” As Suzuki says, we become “childlike.”

Mr. A is serving his second serve to Mr. B on the first point of a tie-breaker. The ball lands wide, and Mr. C calls, “Out. Double fault.” Seeing his serve land out and hearing, “Double fault,” Mr. A frowns, says something demeaning about himself, and calls the serve “terrible.” Seeing the same stroke, Mr. B. judges it as “good” and smiles. The umpire neither frowns nor smiles; he simply calls the ball as he sees it. What is important to see here is that neither the “goodness” nor “badness” ascribed to the event by the players is an attribute of the shot itself. Rather, they are evaluations added to the event in the minds of the players according to their individual reactions. Mr. A is saying, in effect, “I don’t like that event”; Mr. B is saying, “I like that event.” The umpire, here ironically called the judge, doesn’t judge the event as positive or negative; he simply sees the ball land and calls it out.

After Self 1 has evaluated several shots, it is likely to start generalizing. Instead of judging a single event as “another bad backhand,” it starts thinking, “You have a terrible backhand.” Instead of saying, “You were nervous on that point,” it generalizes, “You’re the worst choke artist in the club.”

When asked to give up making judgments about one’s game, the judgmental mind usually protests, “But if I can’t hit a backhand inside the court to save my life, do you expect me to ignore my faults and pretend my game is fine?” Be clear about this: letting go of judgments does not mean ignoring errors. It simply means seeing events as they are and not adding anything to them.

Judgment results in tightness, and tightness interferes with the fluidity required for accurate and quick movement. Relaxation produces smooth strokes and results from accepting your strokes as they are, even if erratic.

When we plant a rose seed in the earth, we notice that it is small, but we do not criticize it as “rootless and stemless.” We treat it as a seed, giving it the water and nourishment required of a seed. When it first shoots up out of the earth, we don’t condemn it as immature and underdeveloped; nor do we criticize the buds for not being open when they appear. We stand in wonder at the process taking place and give the plant the care it needs at each stage of its development. The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed to the time it dies. Within it, at all times, it contains its whole potential. It seems to be constantly in the process of change; yet at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly all right as it is.

The first step is to see your strokes as they are. They must be perceived clearly. This can be done only when personal judgment is absent. As soon as a stroke is seen clearly and accepted as it is, a natural and speedy process of change begins.

Letting it happen is not making it happen. It is not trying hard. It is not controlling your shots. These are all the actions of Self 1, which takes things into its own hands because it mistrusts Self 2. This is what produces tight muscles, rigid swings, awkward movements, gritted teeth and tense cheek muscles. The results are mis-hit balls and a lot of frustration. Often when we are rallying we trust our bodies and let it happen because the ego-mind tells itself that it doesn’t really count. But once the game begins, watch Self 1 take over; at the crucial point it starts to doubt whether Self 2 will perform well. The more important the point, the more Self 1 may try to control the shot, and this is exactly when tightening up occurs.

To Self 2, a picture is worth a thousand words. It learns by watching the actions of others, as well as by performing actions itself. Almost all tennis players have experienced playing over their heads after watching championship tennis on television. The benefits to your game come not from analyzing the strokes of top players, but from concentrating without thinking and simply letting yourself absorb the images before you. Then, the next time you play, you may find that certain important intangibles such as timing, anticipation and sense of confidence are greatly improved, all without conscious effort or control.

Getting the clearest possible image of your desired outcomes is a most useful method for communicating with Self 2,

In short, if we let ourselves lose touch with our ability to feel our actions, by relying too heavily on instructions, we can seriously compromise our access to our natural learning processes and our potential to perform. Instead, if we hit the ball relying on the instincts of Self 2, we reinforce the simplest neural pathway to the optimal shot.

a valid instruction derived from experience can help me if it guides me to my own experiential discovery of any given stroke possibility. From the point of view of the student, the question becomes how to listen to technical instructions and use them without falling into the Self 1 traps of judgment, doubt and fear. For the teacher or coach, the question has to be how to give instructions in such a way as to help the natural learning process of the student and not interfere with it.

gospels change and they are changed by people who had the courage to experiment outside the boundaries of the existing doctrine and trust in their own learning process.

What I like about this approach is that I do not have the feeling that I am fitting myself or my students into an external model that may be in fashion for the moment, but that I am using any external model to further help me take a step in the natural evolution toward my very best strokes. After an Inner Game tennis lesson, a golf professional put it this way: “What I consider to be the right technique for my swing is ever-changing day by day. My model is always being destroyed and rebuilt as I learn more and more. My technique is always evolving.”

It is in the process of changing habits that most players experience the greatest difficulty. When one learns how to change a habit, it is a relatively simple matter to learn which ones to change. Once you learn how to learn, you have only to discover what is worth learning.

It is a painful process to fight one’s way out of deep mental grooves. It’s like digging yourself out of a trench. But there is a natural and more childlike method. A child doesn’t dig his way out of his old grooves; he simply starts new ones! The groove may be there, but you’re not in it unless you put yourself there. If you think you are controlled by a bad habit, then you will feel you have to try to break it. A child doesn’t have to break the habit of crawling, because he doesn’t think he has a habit. He simply leaves it as he finds walking an easier way to get around. Habits are statements about the past, and the past is gone.

The focused mind only picks up on those aspects of a situation that are needed to accomplish the task at hand. It is not distracted by other thoughts or external events, it is totally engrossed in whatever is relevant in the here and now.

Focus is not achieved by staring hard at something. It is not trying to force focus, nor does it mean thinking hard about something. Natural focus occurs when the mind is interested. When this occurs, the mind is drawn irresistibly toward the object (or subject) of interest. It is effortless and relaxed, not tense and overly controlled.

THE THEORY OF CONCENTRATION