10SBALLS SHARES CRAIG CIGNARELLI’S THOUGHTS “THE OTHER SIDE OF THE NET”

Written by: Staff on 22nd October 2016

10SBALLS SHARES CRAIG CIGNARELLI'S THOUGHTS "THE OTHER SIDE OF THE NET"

epa05230766 Officials fix the net in between games as Sam Groth of Australia plays Dominic Thiem of Austria during a match at the Miami Open tennis tournament on Key Biscayne, Miami, Florida, USA, 25 March 2016. EPA/ERIK S. LESSER |

Officials fix the net in between games as Sam Groth of Australia plays Dominic Thiem of Austria during a match at the Miami Open tennis tournament on Key Biscayne, Miami, Florida, USA, 25 March 2016. EPA/ERIK S. LESSER

Southern California tennis has a certain aggression to it. Played mostly upon hard cement, the ball moves quickly through the surface into the opponent’s backcourt. It is first strike tennis, with players seeking to dictate points on the first ball after their serve. They drop a 130mph bomb and then step inside to the baseline to drive their opponent off the court with a first forehand. Meanwhile, the returner is looking to push the server backwards with the first serve return, and if the server happens to miss the first serve, the returner treats the second serve as the first short ball of the point, hammering it to a corner and closing out the point with the next shot. Joints suffer, points end with hard-struck winners, and rally length is shorter than a Bollettieri marriage. Iconic example include Sampras, Davenport, Serena and Venus – none of whom would hug you after a hard-fought match.

I spent years on California’s cement rectangles, honing my coaching skills with a nod to Darwinian ethics. When I moved from California to Atlanta – the mecca for recreational tennis – it was difficult to recognize the sport. Tennis in the south is a whole ‘nother ball game. Players employ the word neutral to suggest something cooperative and cardiovascular and extended. The clay surface makes rallies longer, the joints less sore, and points end with unforced errors or touchy-feely volleys. Put simply, they play differently here. Tennis is about relationships and camaraderie, and while there is still a competitive atmosphere – city winners receive the much-coveted ALTA dinner plate – one gets the sense competitors would head out to their local porch and share a post-match ice tea.

Having traveled the globe to witness the German technicians, the Russian disciplinarians and the Chinese laborers, I’ve learned how cultural nuance affects our sporting athletes. Ask any Frenchman about tennis and you’ll get a diatribe about the game’s artistic merits – they view the terre batue as a clay canvas upon which to paint athletic glory, whereas the South Americans wage war upon the dirt, bludgeoning their opponents with hard heavy spins until stomachs turn upside down and the word macho fades from one’s vocabulary. My move from West Coast to East Coast elicited a plethora of cultural idiosyncrasies.

People of the West are imbued with a sense of adventure, of survival at all costs, of making something of themselves against all adversity. At some point in their history, they or their ancestors ventured toward the coast in search of a better life. Today, they arrive at parties and shake hands with an intention of capturing something -a job, a connection, a deal, some nugget of gold – and then move on to the next person who can help them. With raised fingers stuck out of windows, they drive fast cars and party hard and boast two-and-three-comma bank accounts without the hint of humility. In shops and on streets, interactions come with aggressive stares and anti-social sneers. SoCal is social Darwinism at its finest. With every interaction, you are predator or prey. And that is exactly how they play tennis.

Here in the South, folks engage. The pace of life is slower – sunsets watched, wooded paths traveled, lemonades shared. At the local market, cashiers ask about your day and folks say “good morning” with the sort of human interest which suggests they mean it. They drive beat-up pick-ups and roll their windows down to offer directions and then stare skyward to warn you about inclement weather. They skip parties to attend neighborhood dinners or town-center jamborees and when they discuss bank accounts, it’s to talk about how they’re going to pay for college or to add a new deck to the home. It is a watering hole of sorts, where all of the animals get along for their own survival. And that is exactly how they play tennis.

The point here is, as coaches, we admire technique and strategy, competitive mentality and athleticism, fitness and the fiery-willed. We watch tennis players with an eye toward who they might become. Moving to the South though, has taught me to appreciate from whence they come.