Have you played pickleball yet? I took it up several months ago and it’s probably the first new sport I tried since I was 12 years old, or half-a-century ago. But after some prodding from my pickleball-playing wife, I gave it a go. And I’ve got to say, I like it.
Playing pickleball got me thinking about a book I read decades ago: The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance by W. Timothy Gallwey. I remember the book as having some compelling ideas that I thought also might apply to pickleball—and, re-reading the book after 40 years, it does. It also includes ideas that can help us in life.
“The secret to winning any game lies in not trying too hard.”
The seemingly oxymoronic quote above is from Gallwey and sums up the coaching advice offered by the former tennis pro. It’s his theory that once we learn the basics of a sport (be it tennis, golf, or, in this case, pickleball), we gain a sort of muscle memory as to what we’re supposed to do. The body knows. The issue: our mind often sabotages the best efforts of the body.
Gallwey references the common complaint of amateur athletes everywhere: “It’s not that I don’t know what to do, it’s that I don’t do what I know.” The key to doing what you know? It’s called playing the inner game, which involves “calming the mind so that it works as one with the body,” instead of being an adversary.
The problem with the mind is that it can be very judgmental. Make a mistake and you might hear the internal voice say, why’d you do that? or you’re terrible! But when the mind is at peace and able to let go of this kind of judgement and self-critical analysis, you’re better able to get into “a flow” state, allowing the body to do what it already knows.
When we self-judge, it often becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Think you stink at something, be it your serve, your return shot, or even things like public speaking, and you will stink at it. Gallwey asks us to stop judging ourselves: “By ending judgment, you do not avoid seeing what is. Things appear as they are—undistorted. In this way the mind becomes more calm.”
The Differences Between Self 1 and Self 2.
Gallwey believes there are two sides to each person, which he refers to as Self 1 and Self 2. Self 1 is the conscious ego mind or “the teller,” the part of us that is always analyzing and scrutinizing. Self 2 is the unconscious mind or “the doer.”
Self 1 talks to Self 2 non-stop, telling it what to do, judging and criticizing. It tells Self 2 how to hit the ball and has limited trust in its abilities. Yet, Self 2 has a natural learning process that Self 1 often doesn’t recognize. Here’s are some key takeaways from Galwey’s thinking:
- Our best performance happens when Self 1’s voice is quiet and Self 2 is allowed to hit the ball undisturbed.
- Self 2 is tremendously sophisticated and competent. It has an inner intelligence that “uses billions of cells and neurological communication circuits in every action.”
- To Self 2, a picture is worth a thousand words. It learns by watching the actions of others and feeling, as well as by performing actions itself.
- Self 2 acts without being told what to do. Instead of making it happen through conscious effort, it lets it happen.
- When Self 1 pipes down, we often find Self 2 knows exactly what it’s doing and how to play.
Gallwey tells us that “when Self 1 is absent and Self 2 is present, it allows a more vivid consciousness and greater excellence in performance.” It’s a different feeling than ego gratification, which can be shallow and fleeting. Instead, when Self 2 is allowed to work its magic, it’s “a feeling of harmony, poise, even peace or contentment.”
Putting these lessons to work in the real world.
Gallwey points out that “almost every human activity involves both the outer and inner games.” Life isn’t just about external circumstances, but how you deal with them internally. “Until subdued, Self 1 is capable of producing fears, doubts and delusions, wherever you are and whatever you are doing.”
It all comes down to a matter of focus and not letting Self 1 run the show. You need to convince the ego that Self 2 knows what it’s doing and it’s okay to give it the reins. Gallwey explains the act of focusing like this:
It does not mean not to think, but to be the one who directs your own thinking. Focusing can be practiced on a tennis court, chopping carrots, in a pressure packed meeting, or while driving in traffic.
The key to focusing? Gallwey offers valuable guidance that not only applies to sports, but to everyday life. We quiet the nagging, overly critical voice of Self 1, “not by telling it to shut up, or by arguing with it, or criticizing it for criticizing you. Fighting the mind does not work. What works best is learning to focus it.” And, if you’ve ever meditated, the best way to focus the mind may sound familiar:
Try focusing your attention on breathing. Putting attention on breathing simply means observing your breath going in, going out, going in, going out, in its natural rhythm. Whether on or off the court, there’s no better way to begin to deal with anxiety than to place the mind on one’s own breathing process.
So, the next time you step onto a pickleball court, or face any pressure-filled situation, remember to breathe. My wife was right about pickleball. And Gallwey is right about the mind. By quieting the internal critic and trusting the “doer,” you might find that both pickleball and life become a whole lot easier. The key is to stop trying to force outcomes—and simply let them happen.
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