Book completed: The Inner Game of Tennis

 

As a sport / game / complex skill, concepts of learning and a high level of mental performance in chess strongly resemble that of other similar individual practices, such as martial arts (The Kung Fu of Chess) and tennis (see the Chess vs. Tennis series). Tennis is an especially relevant comparison, being an individual competitive sport with similar Elo-based ratings/rankings and where mental visualization and toughness are primary determining factors in the game's outcome, especially at the professional level.

The Inner Game of Tennis is a classic in the genre of sports performance, being one of the original works that is still very relevant; a 50th anniversary edition recently came out to mark the first publication in 1975. The author, Tim Gallwey, slightly updated the text for it, and there is a new introduction as well by Bill Gates. While the book specifically addresses tennis performance in some parts, including descriptions of how to focus on strokes and ball visualization, it also provides a broader perspective and methodology for the mental-based ("inner game") skills necessary for competitive success. It is also philosophical in nature, not being afraid to ask the why questions regarding individual competition and motivation for play, which are the same for improving chessplayers.

The central focus of the book is distinguishing between "Self 1" and Self 2" - essentially referring to the conscious ego and the unconscious or intuitive mind - and how they interact in competitive performance. I found a strong parallel to the concepts of the split "System 1" and "System 2" modes of thinking popularized in the 2011 book by Daniel Kahneman Thinking Fast and Slow, as well as discussion of "being in the zone" which corresponds to the state defined by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi in Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience from 1990. All of these related concepts and observations, which are not new and are fundamental to the human experience, also touch on the phenomenon of mindfulness, which is an ancient practice of self-awareness and mental focus, not just a contemporary wellness movement.

While the entire book is a worthwhile, thoughtful (and thought-provoking) read, I'll highlight a few particular parts which generated personally relevant insights.

• Quieting Self 1 / Trusting Self 2: these two chapters demonstrate the core premise, which is that we need to reduce the amount of distracting self-talk and internal judgment during a game, in favor of focusing on the task at hand in the moment. For chessplayers, this is a major factor in being able to play consistently and not think unhelpfully about things like rating differences (which can lead to fear and loathing), future imagined tournament standing, or past mistakes and "should have dones" in game. While our intuitive "Self 2" may not always have the best answer, removing negative or distracting "Self 1" interference in our decision-making at the board is always useful.
• Attempting to follow by rote "expert" instructions and principles is a "Self 1" function as well. Although well-meaning, having a player attempt to execute long checklists for thinking processes on each move, or relying on general opening principles without understanding specific positions, are examples of how this does not function well in practice. The book usefully highlights the difference between book or academic knowledge and experiential knowledge; the former may be correct, but the latter is essentially an integrated, intuitive understanding and application of the correct principles at the correct time. This is why there is no substitute for playing reasonably frequently, while at the same time analyzing your own games to understand what is happening in them.
• The overall "why?" question regarding competition and pursuit of a competitive skill is very important to understand on a meta level, and in fact will be the determining factor of the quality of your experience at it. Many people work to become good, even great at a sport but then lose the joy of actually playing and competing at it, and end up quitting. This happens in chess all the time, of course, at all levels. In my own pursuit, I feel I need to pay more attention to the joy and personal interest aspects, while giving less weight to external (or more correctly imagined external) factors/judgements on performance. As the author points out, once you abandon your fear of negative outcomes, it can become a powerful freeing agent that allows you to unleash your full capabilities. Many chessplayers, including myself, have experienced this phenomenon when we recognize our game is objectively lost on the board, but we still have real chances to keep fighting - at which point we maximize our focus and ability to squeeze every last possibility to draw (or even win) out of the position in front of us. (Wouldn't it be better to be able to focus and be free like that before we're in that position, though? That is what I would like to tap into more.)