Watching the Wimbledon Championships this week, it occurred to me that my Dad was a trash-talker. More significantly, I realized what was really going on. Here are the details (and connection to Wimbledon).
Dad taught my brother and me to play tennis. (There’s the payoff). Over the years, I had a devil of a time beating Dad. We’d play and play, and I would win a point every now and then, and sometimes I’d win a few in a row. At some point, Dad would look across the court at me and say, “Ok, that was your last point.” And, sure enough, I wouldn’t score another point in that set. At other places in our match, Dad would psych me out with, “No more first serve winners!” and of course, that was the last successful service point for me! I used to get really mad that my own dad would employ such tactics. I mean, didn’t the Geneva Convention forbid that type of mental cruelty? How could Dad stoop to such underhanded means to win a tennis match? The madder I got, the worse I played, and that led to frustration that his cheap trick worked, so I lost more points.
Then, today, some 40 years later, as I was watching Nadal move on to the men’s finals, I finally got what was really going on. Dad wasn’t psyching me out. I psyched myself out. When my Dad planted those negative ideas, I believed him! After all, I was a kid, 30 years younger than he, how could I possibly overcome that? Of course, back then it didn’t occur to me that my own positive thoughts would have trumped Dad’s psychology every time! If I had told myself, “No way that’s going to be my last point! I’m going to beat that old man today!” I would have been invincible.
So, here I am, 40 years later, and 26 years after Dad died, still learning from him, and still in awe of his teaching. Thanks for the tennis (and life) lessons, Dad. They took me a long way.
How are you psyching yourself out of being the winner you want to be?
