A Mindful Tennis Serve

by Chetan Mistry

What are the sounds, feelings and sights of a mindful tennis serve?

Slowly breathe in, slowly breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. The breath in is gentle, the breath out is a little more forceful. A forceful exhale helps me to release any existing tension or thoughts that are lingering in my forehead. I feel the air entering my nostrils, flowing down my esophagus, and filling my lungs, my chest muscles tightening. Breathe out. I feel the air leaving my lungs, my lungs contracting, the air flowing upwards through my trachea, my chest sinking, the air filling my sinus cavity, and leaving my nostrils. I feel every, single breath this way.

I use each in-breath to “fill up” or tighten a particular part of my body, and each out-breath to “let go” or relax that same, area. I breathe into my calves, hamstrings, and quads, and release. I breathe into my shoulders, and release. My shoulders sink a little bit lower. I breathe into my biceps and triceps, followed by my forearms, and lastly, into my hands. I feel every edge, curve, bevel of the racquet in my hands. But it doesn’t bother me. My grip is as loose as it can be, without losing grip of the racquet. I feel like I have Spiderman’s “spidey-grip” on my racquet. Losing a grip on my racquet is the least of my worries. Keeping a grip on myself is my foremost concern.

I slowly walk over to the service line, noticing every in- and out-breath, and every muscle in my body. Beads of sweat are dripping down my forehead, some slide down my nose and fly off in freedom, before meeting their inevitable doom on the dark green court. I position my feet nearly perpendicular to the white service line, of which I notice the dry, grainy paint. I direct my gaze across the court to see if my opponent is ready. He appears to be in the correct position, on the deuce side of the court, just behind the baseline. He moves back and forth, forward and back, staring into his racquet and adjusting his strings to make sure they’re straight. I wonder if he notices everything I notice? That’s not important right now. Back to the serve.

I take a very deep in-breath, tightening every muscle in my body, and release. I’m prepared to start my serving motion. I reach into my pocket and pull out one of two, bright green tennis balls. My opponent holds the 3rd ball hostage. This ball is a Wilson U.S Open #3. Even though I just opened a new can of balls less than an hour ago, the ball is already frayed, it’s tiny little hairs standing up like it has goosebumps. I would have goosebumps too, if I knew a giant racquet was about to hit me as hard it possibly could.

I begin the motion to bounce the ball. The ball bounce is essential for focus before the serve. I feel the ball leave my hand as I gently push it towards the ground. At the moment, I’m hovering straight over the ball, my entire world view is a small bright green ball on a dark green back-drop. I watch the ball slowly move toward the ground, rotating ever so slightly. The ball contacts the ground and makes a faint, bouncing sound. I’m acutely aware of the sound the ball makes when it hits the ground. Additionally, I can hear birds chirping from the trees just behind the tennis court, near the park. There must be at least 10 of them. Today is a particularly windy day, so I can hear the wind blowing in my ear canal. If I could hear the sun, I’m sure it would be sizzling. But it’s only May, in Toronto. It’s not that hot. The ball bounces upwards and returns to my hand. I feel its soft, frayed hairs in my hand. I feel the wind on my face. I feel the sun beating down on my forehead. I feel the clothes on my body, including the shirt on my shoulders, the shorts on my waist, the socks and shoes on my feet. I feel, everything.

My feet are firmly planted on the ground. I first focus on my core and ensure that my lumbar (lower) spine is erect, and that I am standing as straight as possible. I have a bad habit of leaning over before I serve, and since i’m only 5 foot 8, I can’t afford to lose any height when it comes to serving. Even the slightest bend in my back will change the trajectory of my serve, and inevitably put my ball into the net, or out of bounds, and force me to start the entire, painstaking process of the serve, over again. I ensure that my back is straight and core pulled in tight.

The ball has now returned to my hand. I hold the ball in my left hand and bring it towards my racquet, in front of my body, at waist height. I call this the “prayer pose” of the tennis serve. You’re praying to the tennis gods and in a sense, foreshadowing what is about to happen. You hope that the tennis ball you’re about to throw into the air will make contact with the strings of your racquet. As my ball and racquet meet and introduce themselves, I stare over to the space on the court that I want to aim the ball.

I really, only have two options: first, to the far left corner of the service box, going “wide” on my opponent, forcing them to the outside of the court, or second, to the inside corner of the service box, forcing my opponent into the middle of the court. Since my opponent has a weak backhand, I choose the first option, to force my opponent to go wide. That just so happens to be my favourite spot to aim. Convenient. My opponent waits in anticipation for the serve, knees bent, both hands on his racquet, eyes piercing through the green ball.

I turn my gaze away from my opponent, towards the sky. As I do, I take an aggressive deep breath in, filling every last cell of body, to the point just before explosion. As the air comes into my lungs and fills and tightens my body, my left arm moves upwards and tosses the ball into the sky. I now see a bright green ball in a bright blue sky. My view has clouds around the corners, that seem to surround the ball, nearly in a perfect picture frame. Similar to the bounce, the ball is rotating ever so slightly in the air. As the ball reaches its apex, I am in a power pose, with my hand facing towards the ball, my right arm cocked back with racquet in hand, elbow up, body facing towards my opponents court.

The ball slows as it reaches it’s apex, and starts its’ slow descent downwards. Now I begin my swinging motion. The motion of a tennis serve is very similar to that of throwing a ball, or spiking a volleyball. As you rotate your torso, your shoulder turns forward, too. Your tossing hand simultaneously drops downwards, in unison with your swinging racquet, which drives towards the ball. Since I’m aiming for the far side of the court, I turn a little more than normal to achieve the desired angle. My racquet swings towards the ball, like a hammer aiming for a nail. My wrist begins to rotate and “snap” as I make contact with the ball, to give it a downward trajectory and topspin. As I make contact with the ball, I release the air from my body and lungs, helping to exert as much force onto this little, green sphere as possible. The ball makes contact with the center of the racquet, and before I know it, my body is hunched over from the momentum of my swing.

My gaze remains on the ball. I watch as the ball flies through the air, approximately two feet over the net, a whirling dervish of all of my energy and might. On a downward trajectory, the ball’s momentum carries it to the corner of the court, precisely where I aimed it (this doesn’t always happen, trust me). The ball bounces off of the corner of the green court, just inside the T of the service box. My opponent moves towards the ball and adjusts according to the bounce of the ball. As he makes his motion to swing towards the ball, I hop into ready position, ready for whatever he can throw back at me, if anything.

Chetan Mistry is an academic in exile, with expertise in Health & Wellness, and interests in Psychology, Ethics & Values, and Sports.

Follow him on Twitter: @chem12