Kicking Grass Part 2: Playing the Game
Note: I’m spending this week playing the national men’s grass court tennis tournament for old people (see this post). Besides getting to be on a very unusual kind of tennis court with good players all week, it’s been a really challenging exercise in extroversion and concentration, neither of which I am good at. Here are a couple of things I have learned.
Coming into a place where nobody knows your name is hard for introverts – like me.
In 2012, I got on a plane at RDU, bound for China, by myself, to meet with a bunch of folks I didn’t know, who spoke a different language, to try to convince them to do something they didn’t need to do. It was an introvert’s nightmare, but I had a great strategy to break the ice. I was heading to Chongqing, a giant city/province in southwest China, to explore potential partnerships for campuses in the UNC System. I would adopt a Chinese nickname, Bo Kai Lai, and put it on my business card. It meant, roughly, “thin trusted gray-haired person,.” it sounded vaguely like my name and it was very close to the name of the sitting Governor/Communist Party Secretary of Chongqing and member of the Chinese Politburo, Bo Xi Lai. I printed 200 cards and thought at least it would create interesting conversations when I landed. Unfortunately, before I got off the plan Bo had been arrested and charged with treason.I spent the rest of my visit listening to my hosts laughing at my name and asking funny questions about “my brother.” Imagine being in the US in 1974 with and introducing yourself as Richard L. Nixon and you get some sense of how fun my trip was. After the first day I stopped handing out my business card, but the damage was done — I did no deals in Chongqing.
My unfortunately disgraced “brother,” Bo
I had déjà vu earlier this week as I walked in for the first day of the tournament. Everybody there seemed to already know each other; nobody had a clue who I was (okay, it was slightly better than Chongqing – nobody with my name has been arrested for treason lately). Still, I felt like a foreigner with no credentials, just hoping people would let me into their conversational cliques or agree to hit with me (2nd grade equivalent: “Do you like me? Circle Y or N”).
I realized I just didn’t go in to new situations cold very anymore. When I went for a pilgrimage walk in Italy, I had an extroverted wing man with me; when I travel it’ is usually with a work colleague or my wife. I was embarrassed – what if they don’t like me or I say the wrong thing or I turn out to be the worst player? So I sucked it up, took a deep breath and… it was fine. I stumbled into conversations and wasn’t kicked out. Nobody changed tables when I sat with them at lunch. And I met some people. A guy from Maine and another one from Alabama both agreed to hit the first day. I met a jet-lagged fellow from San Diego Day Two, a sculptor from DC Day Three. And now I’m in, knowing just enough folks to feel like I can show up and find someone to hang with or hit with.
The cool kids eventually appear to have accepted me.
I rarely concentrate on one thing at a time – I need to get better at focus.
In real life I am always thinking about multiple things at the same time. Even in a meaningful conversation with someone, my mind is working on another problem in the background. I find myself toggling between three different work projects. I watch TV with a crossword in my hand.
The research on multitasking is crystal clear. Ballpark about 1/40 of us can do two things well at the same time; most of us trying to do two or more things just do all of them poorly.
So I was really happy to put all the “other” stuff away this week and focus on tennis. Eat. Sleep. Play. Repeat.
Except I still couldn’t really focus. Even with just one thing to do, I have found my mind wandering…
Backward: “I still can’t believe he called that ball out two games ago.” “Why didn’t I go crosscourt with that last shot?”
Forward: “If I don’t win this game I’m in deep trouble.” “What will my friends say if they hear I lost to this guy?” “If I lose this match, will I have time to drive home tonight?”
Sideways: “That guy on the next court has a weird backhand.” “The balls sure are getting fluffy.” “Is that church bell about to ring the new hour?”
The challenge, then, is not simply focusing on one thing, it is about bringing my brain to the present. “Part of our energy,” writes Timothy Gallwey in The Inner Game of Tennis (see previous posts on the book here and here), “is left in the thought world of past or future, so that the present is not seen with all of one’s light awareness. As a result, objects look dim, the ball seems to come faster, appears smaller, and even the court seems to shrink.”
I was never going to come close to winning the tournament. My victory this week has been doing a better job of chasing away the past and future and sidelines and getting closer to enjoying the present moment I am in, the joy of playing a game I love.
Here’s Gallwey again: “It is perplexing to wonder why we ever leave the here and now... Most of our suffering takes place when we allow our minds to imagine the future or mull over the past...Here and now are the only place and time when one ever enjoys himself or accomplishes anything.”
This guy on the right schooled me, but I was in the moment as it happened. And he was nice about it..
If I can come back from this tournament better able to translate that perspective into my real life, this week in Philadelphia will be a win.
And maybe next time I go into a strange situation with a new crowd, I won’t feel like I need a nickname or anything other than myself to get through it.
-Leslie
References:
On our inability to multitask: https://health.clevelandclinic.org/science-clear-multitasking-doesnt-work/
Inner Game of Tennis: https://www.amazon.com/Inner-Game-Tennis-Classic-Performance/dp/0679778314