How Can Shakehand Capture the Penhold's "Lightness"?
This is a brand-new, technique-focused column in a question-and-answer format. The mystery figures answering are two former national team members, both now veteran coaches. So the “Reaching the Summit” column was born.
What do you think the penhold’s “lightness” mainly comes from, and how should shakehand obtain this trait?
The penhold’s lightness, first, is because penhold really is lighter than shakehand. Penhold being light, relatively, accelerates faster. Second, the wrist is more flexible and turns faster, so ball-grip time is relatively short, and you can fuzzily handle underspin on the rising phase. Penhold once had a technique — over-the-table surprise attack on underspin — that shakehand did not have. Shakehand’s grip is five fingers gripping the handle tight, so the wrist is tight. Many players ask me: with shakehand, if you cannot over-the-table flick and flick, you suffer on short balls — what do I do? I say, when receiving, relatively loosen the back three fingers, a “loose grip,” to add flexibility, and the landing rate of flicks rises a lot. But note, the center of gravity must enter the table, firing through the thumb-index web, thumb and index finger. This ensures wrist flexibility, and you can fire the bat with the wrist.
Is Tomokazu Harimoto’s forehand loop not solid — it feels he uses more hitting than brushing?
Table tennis generally demands low, fast, spinny. To send the ball back, first give it a force to go back; second, produce some friction to create the arc to clear the net. But each incoming ball’s height differs, so we must use different hit-to-brush ratios. The high-level, fast-footed can seize the same contact point, so it seems they can fire on every ball. The lower-level have a different contact point every ball, giving the feel of now a high hang, now a drive-loop — that is the principle. Players like Harimoto and Lin Gaoyuan are relatively thin, with power not their strength. If they back off too much, the speed slows and killing power drops. This relates to genes and bone-muscle — some are thin but extremely powerful; some are stout but actually not strong. Like Wang Liqin, called the world’s best forehand — professionally speaking, it is not that he fired huge power, but that his body’s combined-force contact point, the incoming ball’s force, and the hit-brush ratio are all fairly perfect. Why does Harimoto’s forehand loop use a high hitting ratio? Because power is not his strength; if he just keeps looping to hold the opponent, that means reduced power, cannot kill the opponent, useless. He has to raise the hitting ratio to try to pierce the opponent in one or two shots. Why this style? Not because his forehand fundamentals are poor — his parents are both pros, very clear, the goal is the title. Beating China with stability is impossible, so he must sacrifice some stability for more power.
Is Harimoto’s style fairly injury-prone?
Harimoto’s close-table quick-exchange — its traits: one, you must be active; two, you must be very excited; three, the ball flow must be fairly smooth. If one is missing, in two-way quick-exchange rallies, you easily whiff or miss. But objectively, athletes reaching this level, except choppers, are all injury-prone. Harimoto and Ryu Seung-min are the same type, both fairly fierce — what people often call an “unreasonable” style. Why does the national team not produce them? Because such a style is already eliminated at the provincial team, due to unstable state and low success rate. National team selection relates to thinking and philosophy, emphasizing the balance of fierce and steady. So in the national team, those fierce enough are very few. But such unreasonable-style players are mentally less prone to problems, because their style is simple and brutal, all-or-nothing. They never fret over every point, nor change tactics.