TENNIS, other forms of madness and unforced errors
Monday, January 30, 2023
Metaphors have their place.
They could have a price, too, with metrics for cost/benefit analysis on their usage. They help us relate to and explain things we are trying to figure out or make our point in a lighthearted way.
We use them as convenient asides to mask what we can’t talk about easily, for things we would rather not talk about, and for when issues or conflicts leave us feeling impossibly handcuffed or cornered in situations where no answer can satisfy, or when our response was too soon or too late.
The problem with using sports metaphors in describing relationship interactions is they typically unfold as competitive, win/lose and adversarial rather than as kindness, affection, or by cooperation driven.
Because the ball is always in your court, right?
Or maybe you’re playing out of bounds.
Either way, it’s your turn now.
Hit the ball back across the net, intending to win or at least to sustain the rally, keep the ball in play but always with the objective to win points, hitting hard, and feeling strong. With an evenly matched opponent on the tennis court. That works well, but never so simply or quickly in relationships.
Whether or not it’s your turn to respond or return a shot to keep the point alive, when it’s an argument or a highly competitive match – it’s about anticipating what they’ll come back with and thinking ahead for the subsequent volleys.
Chess players try to anticipate several moves ahead too, as does everyone in nearly every game in life …
And just because their last comment, text, or letter – whatever form that messaging arrived in our hands, does not mean we will, or can, or ought to respond quickly, or that responding in any way is a good idea at that moment when we have a sense of urgency to respond.
It’s like hastily hitting your volley into the net rather than methodically, deliberately hitting the perfect passing shot into a back corner. And in person, we can observe body language and voice intensity and we can distinguish smiles from scowls – but by phone, text or email, we skate on thin ice; we ought to know better by now.
Better, is when we spend some cool-down time on the sidelines rather than risk being thrown out of the tournament for inappropriate behaviour.
Responding too swiftly is almost always unsound strategy, a lesson I must keep relearning.
My frequent miscommunications come when I respond too quickly and too thoroughly. Instead of saying some short, clear, friendly and nice things, I go on and on and on. You can guess how badly that ends; often, a simple well-intentioned message gets miss-CON-screwed-up.
We can’t re-write history, unsay anything, or retroactively say something we failed to say when we could have or should have long ago.
Conversely, I’ve hit ‘send’ too quickly too many times; sometimes, I fire off thoughts that aren’t adequately sanitized, purged of edgy-ness, polished or softened. Sorry to any/many I’ve offended.
Thoughts and ideas – yes, those are the foundation in every conversation, letter and email – but the writing is too often only describing those thoughts and ideas as if there is no feeling attached, without first considering there may be reaction and emotion on the other end of that communication, just as they might in person. Too often, I am oblivious to that when banging away on my qwerty-keyboard.
Thoughts and ideas don’t get lobbed or volleyed with sugarcoating; they are wrapped in feelings – sometimes sweet, sometimes sour. The tone of what I say or write is always tinged with not expressed feelings, I felt them, but they didn’t find their way onto the page.
The heat – soft and warm, or fiery – of those feelings doesn’t show up in the text as I was feeling them, something I often fail to appreciate until a good while later when I calmly re-read what I sent or when I get a strong volley back – two elements which I work to reduce. Taking time first, having patience and thinking more before I speak or hit send would likely make life easier.
Humour helps disguise these dynamics for the unengaged spectators in the bleachers yet hides nothing from the player on the other side of the net.
It could be zeal, sometimes sadness, sometimes it’s moments of madness (I mean the angry kind), love, disappointment, empathy, affection, concern, fears, agitation, melancholy, gut reactions, grief, rage, pride, despair, excitement and tinge of madness (the other kind) – we are a jumble of these ingredients, are we not? Or is it just me?
I have no idea what thoughts, questions or perceptions lurk inside anyone’s mind. Some might be accurate; some might be dead wrong – and the harder I try, the more confident the other party might be that they are right and I am wrong. Otherwise, why would I be pleading my case, making my argument, encouraging them to have a change of mind, a change of heart.
Is it important?
Is it possible?
Is it worth it?
Is it too late?
A stock answer, and a good one – is that it’s never too late.
It’s too late to prevent things we’ve done and things that have been said. If someone can figure that out, I’ll pony up whatever it takes because I have no understanding of how to fix something I broke a long time ago, no way to do what I should have done and un-do many things. I’ve spent what for many people is an entire life span, containing way more downs than I wish for and plenty of ups, and I hope to improve my ratio in the decades ahead.
Two close friends – one I’ve known less than two years, the other I’ve known for more than forty, each giving me clear and emphatic reminders recently that I’m a good person. Given several instances in recent times where clients, faux friends, suppliers, and some people I’ve crossed paths with have chosen to dump their shite on me and point their vitriol my way, those two reminders were powerful and timely. I treasure them.
Still, these conflicts happen, but experience, tactics, and wise counsel of caring friends help slow my reaction time, and their support helps me temper the temperature of my temperament.
Sometimes our thoughts come out half-baked, half-thought, and half-writ – which requires wordsmithing which takes time. In contrast, our feelings are real, unmistakable and fully felt from the moment of impact – sometimes an immediate direct knee-jerk reaction, the kind that used to flow with words, foot stomping, gut-wrenching emotion pouring from my mouth, keyboard, and the intense expression on my face.
I’ve never met anyone describing their experience or in explaining myself where feelings, reacting to someone’s words or actions weren’t immediate. Some people bite their tongue, delay voicing their reaction, but there is missing or mistaking their reaction – it’s reflexive, visceral. Facts can be misrepresented or misunderstood, but feelings don’t lie; they are authentic and accurate every time.
The feelings that don’t matter – there are many – are when we have no sensitivity, energy or engagement around that issue. It might be important to others, but if it is meaningless for us so our reaction is nil.
I’ve witnessed these dynamics all my life, going from adolescent volatility to ‘better managed and self-controlled Mark’ as an adult, getting better, but a long way yet to go. Age, experience, and a dash of humility teach us to keep a lid on cauldron moments and turn down the heat before they boil over …
The best tennis metaphor is when you lose badly – like 6-0, which is called 6 to love.
This reminds us that in tennis, love is nothing, and in life, love is everything.
P.S. I remember in the first year of writing these Musings, at a dinner party at DA and S#3’s home, being asked, “Sometimes it seems you are writing about someone, or to someone; do you ever hear back from them?”. I advised yes, and sometimes I hear from people who thought I was writing about them when I wasn’t. We had a good laugh, and then DA asked, “What do you say to them?” I said, I tell them – “It ain’t about you sweetheart.” He said, “You’ve been looking for title for when you Musings into book form – maybe that’s your title.” While I’ve wrestled with that idea many times, love the title, but the ‘how to do it’ eludes me. Someone recently offered to help me. I’ve saved them all – 20 years of material and backed them up. Maybe someone will want a book version someday. It’s not top of mind just now …
Reader feedback:
Mark, I read your musing with keen interest after having read Wayne MacPhail’s article in Saturday’s Globe ‘ the mechanical turk & ChatGPT’. If you have not yet read it I suggest you do. It aligns with your own speculations about AI. As always, I very much enjoy your daily musings and encourage you to keep them flowing, RT, White Rock, BC