Playing John McEnroe:
How To Beat A Big-Time Opponent
By Trey Waltke with Joel Drucker
(Editor’s
Note: - Over the course of his career, TennisONE editor Trey Waltke earned many big
wins. Among his notable achievements was splitting his four matches with John McEnroe – including victories during McEnroe’s prime years in the early
‘80s. Here, Waltke explains the subtleties that accompany playing an opponent as skilled and intimidating as John
McEnroe.)
How do you play a big-time opponent? In 1981, I drew John McEnroe in the
first round of the U.S. National Indoor Championships in Memphis. I had no
delusions: He was better than me, which meant it was critical to think
about the right game plan if I wanted to play the best possible match.
And here's the lesson, no matter what your playing
level: Preparing for a match isn't a matter of blindly thinking about how
you're going to hit 60 winners. Planning to win requires thoughtful
analysis of how your game appropriately matches your opponent's.
Here's what I thought about me versus McEnroe:
He's got a finite amount of weapons -- albeit in McEnroe's case, a pretty
broad selection. But he's only human and, like all players, McEnroe
has lost before and has his share of weaknesses. So my challenge was to
hone in on finding those weaknesses and exploiting them as much as my
particular style would permit. Maybe this realism comes from having grown
up in Missouri, an austere place also known as the "Show-Me"
state.
Now don’t misunderstand me. Playing a McEnroe-level player makes you
hyper-alert. That awareness is mixed with the fear that if you don’t impose
your game on him promptly, you’ll conceivably lose quickly and embarrass
yourself in front of a lot of people.
Players like McEnroe are
sharks. The minute he smells any fear, he’s all over you.
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It’s vital never to show how worried you might be. Players like McEnroe are
sharks. The minute he smells any fear, he’s all over you. But if you don’t
reveal a single emotion, you can get your opponent a bit off-balance. After
all, he’s not a mind reader and for all you know, he might be a bit scared of
your own tools. Experience has taught me that you can never tell how two players will match up until they actually play
one another. Everything from pace and spin to movement, shot selection and the competitive aura each
player exudes on the court figures into this.
The first time I saw McEnroe play he was still a junior. His game looked
flimsy, too dependent on his superb hands and less reliant on hardcore fundamentals. This was particularly true with his groundstrokes, especially
his forehand. Even his backhand didn’t seem that strong, mostly a short
stroke he pushed around the court.
Then, the next summer, John McEnroe went right from his high school graduation to the Wimbledon semis,
instantly creating the aura of a champion. On the one hand, we on the
circuit were shocked by his utter lack of respect for
anyone on the tour. At the same time, we were awed by his skill at pulling it off.
In the fall of ’77, I played him in doubles. Word had it he was even better
in doubles than singles, so now, playing at the Los Angeles Tennis Club, I
had the chance to experience it first-hand.
McEnroe was a doubles genius. He was hitting shots I’d never seen from a pro
-- curving low lobs, wickedly early angled service returns, midcourt swinging
volleys. He’d stand practically in the middle of the court, daring me to out
guess him on my return of serve. It was precisely the kind of brilliant movement and
ballstriking that could instantly take you way out of your game.
McEnroe’s first volley was phenomenal, especially if you
hit the return with pace.
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But again, even versus a genius like McEnroe, you must look beyond the
artistry to the craftsmanship. Even the brilliant McEnroe had preferred
patterns. For example, he had a great serve to the backhand in the ad
court. My response: put my left foot in the alley when receiving so as to
make him feel he had a smaller space to serve into. I wanted him to know
that I was ready to play a backhand return - my strong side. And at the
same time, I was daring him to hit the serve down the center - a shot
that's more difficult for lefties. Granted, McEnroe hit the center serve
as well as anyone, but at least by stepping into the alley I was letting
him know that it wasn't going to be so easy for him to play that classic
lefty combo of the swinging wide serve and the angled backhand volley.
Making a guy play shots or sequences he'd rather not play is a great way
to at least attempt to establish a toehold.
Another thing I noticed was that McEnroe’s first volley was phenomenal if you
hit the return with pace. On the other hand, if you were able to get his serve back with a low, off-pace return, his tendency was to float
the half-volley back to you and then, almost as a bluff, he’d close in on the
net. Standing in like this off a weak shot left McEnroe vulnerable to quick
lobs over his backhand shoulder. So again, I knew I’d need to take a lot of
pace off my return and just get it down low at his feet. Not easy, but actually, for me, that soft,
slice backhand was one of my favorite shots.
Serving to McEnroe also offered a few possibilities. He didn’t crack his
backhand very offensively if you got your first serve in. This made me concentrate very hard on
getting first serves in because he loved attacking second serves. Likewise, his groundstrokes didn’t always
penetrate, so you had to keep hitting your own deep in order to elicit a short ball and force
him to pass you.
You also had to account for the fact that at some point during the match,
especially if the match wasn’t going his way, he was going to stop your momentum by throwing a tantrum, yelling at an umpire or even retying his
shoes just before a critical point.
McEnroe didn’t always crack his
backhand very offensively if you got your first serve in.
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There was also an emotional aspect. The winner of our match was supposed
to play a local teenager named Jimmy Brown. Everyone figured it would be McEnroe and Brown in the next round. I didn’t like that at all.
Would you? Once you’ve done the rational stuff, there’s something to be gained from
letting anger motivate you too.
Granted, the tiny holes in McEnroe's game weren't
always there, but at least my homework gave me a few rungs to hang my hat
on. But it's sure better to try and win with a couple of basic tactics
than delude yourself into thinking you're going to suddenly hit dozens of
winners.
This brings up a point I've been trying to teach
juniors: Winning tennis is usually boring tennis. To beat someone of equal
or greater ability, you must be willing to do whatever it takes over and
over again. Too many juniors get caught up thinking they have to beat
someone with big winners. The object is to find that small chink and
patiently drill at it at like a dentist slowly filling a cavity. And
everyone's got some teeth that are weaker than others -- even John McEnroe.
Winning tennis is
usually boring tennis. To beat someone of equal or greater ability, you must
be willing to do whatever it takes over and over again.
That night in Memphis, I won 6-3, 6-4. From the time he walked on the court, I sensed McEnroe was
preoccupied, not quite paying attention to how he was going to actually win rather than let his aura do it for
him. So this gave the shark in me a little blood. As anticipated, he began stalling – a
sure sign I’d at least made a dent (McEnroe never stalled when he was winning
handily). After the first set, I knew the second set would have even longer
periods of stalling, so I made sure to keep myself focused and never get bogged
down in John’s negative energy.
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Vintage Mac - he had few weaknesses on grass. At
Wimbledon, he was nearly unbeatable.
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Our next match came two years later, in Las Vegas. I applied the same
strategies, and was able to scrape out another victory. Now again, I’m not
going to say I was a better tennis player than John McEnroe. It was just a
matter of styles and moments. We played our final match later that summer in
the first round of the U.S. Open. I took a two sets to one lead.
McEnroe was livid. This wasn’t just another Memphis or Vegas. This was
the U.S. Open. The stadium was teeming with that buzz: a top player was in
trouble. When you’re younger, these opportunities for big wins are tricky.
A few years before, playing a tight match against Adriano Panatta at the Italian Open, I was oddly
afraid to grab the big win. But now, against McEnroe, I knew that I’d beaten him before, and I wasn’t
scared to beat him. He knew this too.
So early in the fourth set, on a changeover, he got about one inch from
my face and spewed out several choice obscenities. I’d planned for him stalling, but even this I hadn’t planned for. Along with Pancho
Gonzales and Jimmy Connors, McEnroe was that rare player who could get better when he got
angry. It got me a bit off-balance.
On a changeover, he got about one inch from my face and spewed out
several choice obscenities.
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But more importantly, McEnroe validated the lesson of this story: you
must understand your game and understand what makes you win. For all the
talk about McEnroe’s creativity and touch, to me his real genius was his
ability to play aggressive percentage tennis. When they’re in trouble,
great players don’t just start flailing. They’ll attack, but they’ll
do so in a very buttoned-up way. Playing within yourself means never going
for more than you need to. McEnroe was a master at this.
As the fourth set got underway, John began paying more attention to
covering the court – and in short order, he began swarming me with lots
of first serves, solid volleys and consistent returning. Those little
mistakes that had cost him earlier in the match vanished. The last two sets went to McEnroe, 6-0, 6-1. I’d tried
hard, but in many ways, he was just a quicker, more talented version of me –
too tough.
Still, whether in victory or defeat, the lessons I learned playing McEnroe apply to anyone: Don’t get
overwhelmed by your opponent’s aura of greatness. Assess his game logically. Study patterns. Find ways to
make your opponent play shots they don’t like, hopefully by hitting the shots you
like hitting. Run the same boring play, again and again – because there’s
nothing boring about a victory. And the next time you hear someone say, “I
just didn’t play my game,” make a mental note to congratulate their opponent
for not letting them.
Your comments are welcome. Let us know what you think by emailing
us here at TennisONE.
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