No Strings Attached
Carlos Alcaraz has been hitting with a stringless racket. It’s part of the number-two-ranked tennis icon’s carefully charted rehabilitation plan initiated after wrist surgery sidelined him in April. He toes up at the baseline to serve, ball in his left hand, racket in his recovering right. As he extends his left arm to release the toss, he gathers his back foot, then explodes while looping the racket behind his head, a momentum-generating push that drives it up, out, and across his body where he finishes with a flourish. In the middle of the motion, the ball passes through the open ring of the racket frame untouched.
The lion-tamers’ circus act restores the tennis phenom’s rhythm, reconstructs trust in his once extremely painful wrist, allows him to naturally follow-through. Without the strings, there is no resistance. The practice is (ideally anyway) risk free.
When facing no impending impact, comfort and safety reign. Nothing stings or smarts or leaves a mark; the judge and jury rest. We write and no one reads it. We dance and no one sees it. We sing inside the shower where (we hope!) no one can hear. We don’t know if what we’re doing is good or bad or neutral—or somewhere in between. We won’t know because there are no stakes. The absence of friction eases us. Unencumbered, we let go.
But we tend to weave our lives with strings attached.
A golfer standing adjacent to the ball he’s about to strike, repeatedly takes practice cuts through air. Usually fluidly. His arms are loose, his mind is clear. The club head grazes the blades of grass with a whrrring whisper. Nothing’s riding on a stroke not near a ball.
“Tennis Racket and Balls” by Vladsinger, via Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.
But, when he positions himself above a dimpled unforgiving nugget, the floodgates open. In rushes clutter and congestion in the form of “I sure hope I do” and “I sure hope I don’t” with shards of “ifs” and “thens” lodging in between his tendons, joints and ears. Muscles tighten. His back gets stiff. His eyes rush to see where the ball will go instead of where it is. With impending impact looming, so much is suddenly on the line. In seconds there will be a visceral result he’ll experience in his hands, his hips, inside his head. The swing gets tricky instantly with the promise of a clash.
It’s as true in our relations as it is in our performances—the more we stand to lose, the harder it is to loosen. With care, distractions mount. We want to win, or come across a certain way, or impress a girl or a guy, a boss or a co-worker. We want to not make people mad... not hurt someone we deeply care about. We want to play a role in helping others through their own respective mucks. High stakes are all around us and can block our breathing. It gets tough to power through a thing when the potential ripple effect is in our purview. Consequences can be quite profound.
Since April, Carlos Alcaraz, as part of his rehab game plan, has played tennis with a patch over one eye, the man-made “disadvantage” honing his focus, forcing his unobstructed eye to work a tad bit harder than it usually does. He’s hit with his left-hand, the intense cognitive challenge forcing him to reset muscle memory and build brand new neural pathways. He’s also shadow-played not only strokes but entire games, in addition to his swings with a stringless racket. His commitment extends to the skills that undergird the physical, mental and emotional pillars of his craft.
Undoubtedly, the superstar’s concentration and footwork remain intact. His graceful follow-through has been re-polished. His strength, speed, and endurance have been enhanced. And he’s probably learned to love the absence of friction. The freedom to take a cut without any form of feedback from his body or the masses or his mind.
The tension, though, will show back up. When it does, the impact will rattle the crafty athlete’s hand and arm, and his head will be tempted to reel.
But when he puts the strings back in his racket, he’ll swing a little freer than he did before he took them out. He’ll feel them and they’ll give him information though their absence will be missed.
