Coaches and players sound like they understand the game like I do. They talk about the importance of players being adaptable, solving problems, making decisions, and reading the outgoing and incoming balls. Yet there’s a disconnect between that knowledge and how they like to coach and practice.
The latest example comes from Jay Berger, former world number seven player and top USTA coach. Jay currently works with Reilly Opelka, in addition to being a club pro in Florida.
Jay was a guest on a recent Baseline Intelligence podcast episode with Jonathan Stokke. So much of what Jay said was great.
He talked about the importance of accountability and getting your intensity right. He talked about getting your attention onto the other side of the net, reading your shot and your opponent's shot. He talked about the difference between playing a game and hitting a ball. He said kids need to play more and be coached less. He said less is more when it comes to coaches and talking. For a doubles player who struggles with poaching he talked about positioning yourself better to poach better. For all players, he stressed how important it was to keep learning.
You’ll get no arguments from me on any of that. He’s singing my tune.
The George Drill
Yet when asked “What are your best drills to improve consistency from the baseline?” his answer was a drill, the George Drill (named after Jay’s former coach, George Paris), that completely de-couples perception from action and trains none of the things, aside from accountability, that he mentioned above.
The George Drill is as old-school as you can get - physically taxing, gets players to make shots, but mostly a mindless waste of time. The coach feeds ten to twelve balls out wide with recovery between each shot, first all forehands, then all backhands, then side-to-side. The emphasis is on making shots (misses don’t count) and footwork.
I know players have done drills like this forever. That doesn’t mean they are effective uses of time. I think for most players these are worse than useless since none of the player’s movements and shots relate to the competitive, dynamic interaction between players that makes up a point and any rallies within a point. This drill misses everything necessary to develop the skills Jay says matter in tennis. Players are learning to follow a coach’s instructions, not to play tennis.
Calvin Betton, a tour coach I respect, said that when he evaluates a practice activity he asks two questions. 1. Does it look like tennis? 2. How many decisions does the player make?
The George Drill looks a little like tennis. Players aren’t pressing buttons on a screen. But I’ve never seen a tennis point where a coach stands by a basket feeding balls and a player has no opponent. Obviously, the player makes no decisions in this drill, either. So Calvin Betton won’t be putting his players through this drill, nor would I.
For an absolute beginner, a drill like this may be a decent first step to be quickly superseded so players can learn the true fundamentals of tennis. But Jay said he did this himself and did it with Tommy Paul, Frances Tiafoe, Reilly Opelka and other great players. I’m sorry. That makes no sense. For any half-decent player, the George Drill is a waste of time.
This reminded me of Shelby Rogers’s appearance on the same podcast last August where she talked a lot about the demands of being a tour pro, how you have to adapt to changing courts, environments, opponents, etc. Then, when asked for her favorite drill, she said she loved hitting groundies off balls fed by her coach.
The disconnect between what these people say is important and how they spend time training is amazing.
Traditions Die Hard
The more success you have after doing something, the tougher it is to change. It’s not easy to realize that you may be succeeding despite what you’re doing, not because of it.
I don’t see any way that the drills Jay and Shelby love efffectively train the things they say are important. Mindlessly hitting balls into an empty court may give players comfort, but matches are the opposite of mindless comfort.
Luckily, they, and all great players, play the game a lot and the game is a great teacher.