Have you got the potential?

I love tennis. I love watching it (especially el maestro Roger Federer). I love to try and play it too. Sadly, I lack skill and talent in this department. My friend Roger (not Federer!) witnessed my struggle and gallantly bought me a tennis lesson as a belated birthday present.

I was nervous of making a fool of myself and being judged harshly by the tennis pro. Boy, old habits die hard! I shrugged this delusion off by remembering that a coach wants you to do well. He is there to help you improve, not to mock you. Besides, if he thinks I'm a loser, that's his business! Nothing I can do about it ;)

After gathering my nerves and courage along with my tennis racket, I trundled off for some enlightenment on the court.

Daniel was a seasoned pro in handling gumbies. My wild hits did not phase him, not even when they went over the fence to the parking lot.

It wasn't all disaster. I've actually got quite nice top spin on my forehand. I even hit an ace on one of my serves! How cool is that?!

That's when I knew it. I have potential. If I can hit one good shot, I can hit many.

So what stops me from being consistent?

First, I need knowledge of what puts together a good shot. This is what the coach offers: understanding of the mechanics and physics of body-racket-ball connection that delivers winners. Plus he can see what I can't. When I throw the ball up for a serve, I have no idea what my feet are doing. A coach has perspective. It's so much easier with help.

Second, the belief it's possible. How do we get belief in possibilities when it has never been done before? How did NASA determine it was possible to fly a man to the moon when no one else had done it? They simply chose to believe. That's it. Faith is a choice. If humans can fly to the moon, surely I can improve my tennis game.

Third, re-wiring old patterns with new ones. When Daniel showed me a better grip on the racket, it felt uncomfortable and unnatural. I stubbornly sneaked it back to the old familiar grip which felt 'right'. Surprise, surprise when the balls continued to hit the net or fly out of bounds. When I tried it his way, the shots landed perfectly. They felt good. They felt right.

There's always that moment of resistance when we let go of old patterns and embrace new ones: they feel awkward, strange, and cumbersome. It's in these moments we are tempted to fall back in to what we know because it's comfortable, rather than have faith and persist, even if we know the results are mediocre the old way.

If we do manage to persist with the discomfort and work at the new way, we discover something glorious: the thrill of hitting that perfect shot. There's no denying it - when you hit the ball right and the racket sounds with a juicy twang, it feels soooo good. There's no going back after that. It's written in your bones: you have the potential for winner after winner. Your body knows the sweet spot, you just need to follow through.

My tennis lesson was such a perfect metaphor: if you want new results, get help, learn new skills, choose faith in the moment of discomfort and the unknown, let go, and savour the sweet spot.