🎾 The Single Hander¶
Giới Thiệu¶
The Single Hander — tài liệu 5 trang từ thư viện sách tennis.
Chủ đề chính: Novak Djokovic, Topspin, Roland Garros, Roger Federer, Backhand, French Open
Tóm tắt nội dung (trích từ tài liệu gốc): independent.co.uk It's the stroke of champions - so why is the single-handed backhand on At Wimbledon this year, one thing is certain: single-handed backhands won't be that easy to spot. There are some (very) high-profile exceptions: seven-times winner Roger Federer famously plays his backhand single-handed, as does his Swiss compatriot Stanislas Wawrinka (owner of probably the most lethal topspin backhand in tennis). At Roland Garros in Paris a few weeks ago, Wawrinka pulled off an unexpected triumph, beating world number one Novak Djokovic in the final of the French Open. Inevitably, his vic
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independent.co.uk
It's the stroke of champions - so why is the single-handed backhand on
At Wimbledon this year, one thing is certain: single-handed backhands won't be that easy to spot. There
are some (very) high-profile exceptions: seven-times winner Roger Federer famously plays his
backhand single-handed, as does his Swiss compatriot Stanislas Wawrinka (owner of probably the most
lethal topspin backhand in tennis). At Roland Garros in Paris a few weeks ago, Wawrinka pulled off an
unexpected triumph, beating world number one Novak Djokovic in the final of the French Open.
Inevitably, his victory prompted questions about the single-hander's future: was this a glimpse of a
possible resurgence for the one-handed backhand, the most glorious shot in tennis, or a mere death
throe?
Wawrinka and Federer aren't alone in the men's game in pursuing this quaint and (many would say)
outmoded shot. Elsewhere, there are ageing (and fading) exponents of the craft such as Richard
Gasquet and Feliciano Lopez, as well as a clutch of youthful apprentices. But overall, double-handers
significantly outnumber single-handers: at this year's Wimbledon, the figure will be roughly five to
one. Meanwhile, among the women, sightings will be even rarer. Of the current WTA top 50, just two
play their backhands unaided by a second hand.
Such scarcity is a shame, because, in contrast to all other strokes, it is virtually impossible for the
single-handed backhand to look ungainly. Whenever it is unleashed, it's a free-flowing, pulse-raising
delight. I vividly remember the down-the-line pass with which Federer saved a match point in his epic
2008 Wimbledon final against Rafael Nadal. The shot felt like a distillation not just of Federer's talents,
but of all that is beautiful about the single-hander � with its exaggerated shoulder turn, coiling take-
back, and sumptuous extension of the hitting arm. The single-hander, when struck well, is unique in
giving the player access to blinding power with a seeming absence of effort.
One-handers at the top of their game
But tennis players aren't awarded points for aesthetic merit, and in recent decades the single-hander has
suffered a dramatic downturn in fortunes. From being pretty much the only way to hit a backhand prior
to 1970, the shot has gradually been eclipsed by the sturdier, more dependable double-hander. The shift
began in the 1970s, when players such as Jimmy Connors, Bj�rn Borg and Chris Evert popularised the
two-fister. By the mid-1990s, single-handers were already a minority. In the ensuing two decades, the
shot has fallen still further out of favour, to the point where some now prophesise its imminent
extinction at the professional level.
What explains the decline? The standard view is that the double-hander's success reflects the fact that
these days it's simply a more effective stroke. Over the past four decades, tennis has undergone
numerous changes, and the sport's character has fundamentally altered.
First, rackets have been revolutionised: heavy, small-headed wooden frames have been replaced by
lightweight, large-headed composite ones. As a result, players can swing faster and � crucially � load
the ball with dramatically more topspin. Second, today's top players, like all elite athletes, are fitter and
stronger (and taller) than their predecessors. Third, courts have slowed. Until the mid-1970s, three of
the four Grand Slams were held on grass, tennis's fastest surface. Now only one (Wimbledon) is, and
even the All-England grass is less lightning-quick than it was 15 years ago, when the authorities altered
the seed mix to ensure that men's matches didn't descend into ace-hitting contests.
Francesca Schiavone is the only single-hander woman to have won a Grand Slam this decade (Getty)
Although assessing the impact of these developments is far from easy, they have undeniably made the
game more strategically defensive. Tennis today is much more baseline-oriented than it was. (Serve-
and-volley, for instance, has all but vanished: remember the glory days of Stefan Edberg and his ilk?)
As a consequence, consistency has become more valuable. Successful baseline play, for all that it may
involve startling power, ultimately depends on the avoidance of error. The two-handed backhand may
be a less destructive shot than the one-hander, but it is also more reliable: the extra hand on the racket
means it is easier to handle incoming pace and spin, and to swing the racket along a predictable path.
Crucially, too, players with double-handers are better equipped to deal with high-bouncing balls �
which is especially important in the era of heavy topspin.
By contrast, the single-hander is a shot for gamblers and swashbucklers. The excitement of watching it
stems not just from its inherent elegance but from the knowledge that the player is taking a risk. Unlike
the two-hander, it demands � when hit with topspin � a full-blooded swing. There can be no half-
measures: as soon as you start "pushing" at the ball, errors creep in. But the need for a full swing makes
the shot inherently fragile. Get it the tiniest bit wrong, and you'll almost certainly miss. The upside of
such riskiness is an increase in exhilaration. As someone who himself plays with a single-hander, I can
say with certainty that there is no better feeling in tennis than using it to stroke the ball for a clean
winner (not that, in my case, this happens often). For a tennis junkie, it's the ultimate high.
I suspect it's the single-hander's singularly dicey nature, rather than any inherent inferiority, that has
relegated it to its current minority status. As elite sport has become more professional, the room for
individual expression has diminished. Training a prot�g� is a massive investment, and coaches (and
parents) want the surest route to future glory. Why saddle a youngster with a shot that may later prove a
liability?
This logic particularly applies in the women's game, where single-handers are seen as especially
vulnerable, given the strength required to play them (not that Justine Henin, possessor of one of the
finest backhands in history, seemed to have much difficulty on this score).
So, along with the other changes to the game in recent decades, technique has become more uniform.
David Foster Wallace noticed this in his superb 2006 essay "Federer as Religious Experience", in which
he wrote of the modern power baseline game that, above all, it was "replicable: past a certain threshold
of physical talent and training, the main requirements were athleticism, aggression, and superior
strength and conditioning". He was exactly right. The dominant ethos of sport today is scientific rather
than creative. Power has shifted from players to coaches: the holy grail is to find a reliable "method"
for producing champions.
The double-hander was
popularised by Bj�rn Borg
(Getty)
But this approach misses something, which is that, in tennis � as in all sports � the biggest prizes go to
those who don't follow the conventional path. The rigid appliance of science may get you a very good
player, but it won't very often result in a champion. The greatest players are usually innovators. This is
true of Federer, and, in a less obvious way, of Nadal, who has taken the robotic imperatives of modern
tennis to such demented extremes that, paradoxically, there is something revolutionary about him. It
was true of Sampras and Agassi, of Graf and Seles, and of McEnroe, Lendl, Navratilova and Connors.
All these players weren't merely good; they were different. They expanded the sport's possibilities.
And that's why the single-hander's future may well be less bleak than commonly supposed. For the
game will continue to reward those who take risks. After all, even as the general popularity of the
single-hander has declined, the shot has continued to hold its place at the apex of the game. The two
dominant player of the 1990s, Pete Sampras and Steffi Graf, both had single-handers. In the Noughties,
Federer won many more Grand Slams than anyone else, and Henin was one of the most successful
women.
Just recently, it's true, the picture has looked different: only four major titles this decade have been won
by men with single-handers, and there has been just a solitary victory for a single-handed woman
(Francesca Schiavone at the 2010 French Open). But this doesn't mean that a future renaissance should
be ruled out. In the run-up to this year's French Open, the consensus was that Djokovic's defensive,
ultra-consistent game rendered him invincible. Yet Wawrinka beat him by overpowering him from both
wings. His single-handed backhand was crucial to his hitting through Djokovic's defense. He won the
title not in spite of, but because of, his backhand. Meanwhile, on the woman's side, Carla Suarez
Navarro, possessor of a wonderful single-hander, has been enjoying her best ever season, breaking into
the top 10.
So at this year's Wimbledon, lovers of the single-handed backhand don't need to look out just for
Federer and Wawrinka, but also for Navarro and the Italian Roberta Vinci, not to mention Grigor
Dimitrov and the talented young Austrian Dominic Thiem. And who knows? Maybe, in a fortnight, it
will be a player employing this "throwback" of a shot who sinks to his or her knees in delight.