JAY GOULD'S GENIUS

Press, Volume LXV, Issue 13474, 14 July 1909, Page 5

JAY GOULD'S GENIUS

It is not so well known that Jay Gould spent many, many months in getting a correct and severe .stroke at tennis. Gould is regarded as a< genius; arid he is a genius. But his genius lay 'not in ; 'being born with a stroke, but in realising that he. must acquire his stroke by constant repetition before the hurry of play began, when a bad stroke may be acquired. So he sacrificed the- excitement of matches for the purpose of making a perfect "cutstroke" habitual and inalienable.

What is most noticeable in these cases is that the mastery of the technique is not left to actual tPhiy> nor even to what is dsuailv known as "practice," but is regarded as an entirely separate affair, demanding that the mind bo focussed on one individual arid comparatively simple process repeated under similar conditions time after time.

Wherever we 100k —whether to study or business—we rarely find (patience to devote hours to a task which, shows its results perhaps in the far future. Just as when people take drugs, so here, they want immediato effects, rather than a permanent and stablo improvement of condition.

In my own case I found it imjpossible to do much in the way of improving my technique during games. There was too much to distract the attention —especially, there was the ■ thought about tactics. In my bedroom I was free to go through a set of foot movements, or some special stroke, as often as I liked with nothing to take my mind away.

But scarcely one player in a hundred thinks the dull grind, tho drill outside the game, worth while. WHY DRILL IS WORTH WHILE. I can assure them that the drill is well worth while. Quite apart from the training of the mind to do dull things that have no startling effects at once, there is the satisfaction of improved standard of play—provided, of course, that the mastered technique is generally correct and of the right kind for you as an individual player. I can also assure them that the drill is not open to the objection which they will probably bring against it—namely, that it makes the style forced and "unnatural," and destroys the freedom of the mind to think of tho game itself.

Now, the main object of drill in technique is actually this very freedom of the mind. The pianist who has for years sensibly practised the best finger exercises is hot longer likely to be harassed , by cares as to technique. He or she can now devote the attention to interpreting the composer's particular work. The fingers are the pen of a ready writer, the eyes of a ready reader. It is by careful attention that we free ourselves from the need of such careful attention in the future.

This does not mean that during the game the technique does not matter. As, in a business, the manager who has trained his employees to do their parts well, and has watched them carefully and now trusts them, must still from time to time, if not look at them at least look at their work, so the player who has trained his own employees—his nerves and muscles^—in technique may now and then during the game send them a message to change a little if he finds that the results are not satisfactory. t TECHNIQUE AND TACTICS.

In tennis, for instance, I miss the same kind of stroke several times. I must think for a second just why. It is no use to go on missing that stroke. My past study and practice of the" technique, perhaps, tell mc that I am not gnppmg my racket tight enough, so I simply tell myself to grip it tightly. But during the game most. of my mind must be given to the tactics—

"Which , service will be most effective?" "When shall I put all my energy into the. game?" "How can I break this spell of bad luck (which is, generally, partly bad play as well)?" Here, aleo, there is need of thought outside the game. It is said that a celebrat&d Australian bowler used, to lie awake at night dovising a ball which would beat Arthur Shrewsbury, that master of the technique of a few safe strokes. And a great deal of this planning can be done before the game. Once mate, the lesson for daily life is obvious, and needs no elaboration. The English habit—in military and naval as well as in other matters—is to wait for the crisis and then ■' begin to think, instead of to imagine and provide against contingencies beforehand. '

. Is it nofc possible for our schools, and, perhaps, even our homes,, to draw lessons (of which the above are only a few samples) not only from books and academical subjects, but also from, what is very near the heart of the nationits play? Is there any vital objection to the use of the most interesting and easily understood starting-point in teaching in order to impart the most important principles of life?—" Daily Mail."