How a Good Writer Is Like a Tournament Tennis Player
It’s — surprisingly — not just about hitting the ball
A Moment
“They never seem to miss!” I naively blurt out to Pancho Segura. We are watching Pancho Gonzales hit with Torben Ulrich. All three and several other over-55 tennis greats will be competing tomorrow in a “Grand Masters” tournament at a racquet club in Miami. I know the owner.
A novice myself, as I watch these so-called old guys practice, I am self-conscious and a little awkward with Segura. What do I say, “Nice playing”? Gonzales and Ulrich are amazing — consistent and accurate. Their rallies seem endless.
“Oh, they miss…in games!” said Segura. “Neither one is trying to put the ball away. It’s just practice. Anyway, at our age, none of us have to think about how to hit the ball, only where to put it.”
It is the 70s. I’m just beginning my career as a journalist. I already have an ear for a good quote:
We don’t have to think about how to hit the ball, only where to put it.
Segura would go on to coach Jimmy Connors. I would become a better writer with several cover stories in New York. I would also realize that Segura’s observation holds true for writers, too.
Playing the Game
Decades later, I am an aged-out tournament player, still on the court and happy to be there. I depend on my brain; my body, not so much. Luckily, as long as my mind holds out, I never have to stop playing.
Like the old pros, I sometimes coach the less experienced. I tell them: Practice; stay with it. Create draft after draft of the same piece. Someday you’ll no longer have to think about which words to use, just where to put them.
It’s never easy.
In a sense, each new idea becomes my opponent, inviting me to play. I walk onto the court with confidence. I’ve been here before.
But every game is different. I dread that begin-again moment when I have to size up my opponent and seize on just the right strategy.
Sometimes, I falter; I hit the net and lose time. I start over. But the court is where I am my most comfortable and happiest me. It’s a good struggle because I know that eventually, I’ll get it.
Two hundred-plus pieces later, I trust that my words will pour out effortlessly. The challenge, always and forever, is to figure out where to put them — to come up with the most compelling order, combination, and pacing of those words.
Only then can I “win.”