Back in Competition: Reflections After a Long Break
1. Small Venues vs. Large Venues
I usually practice at a small club or a mid-size gym, so my game naturally speeds up in those tight spaces. This time I played in a larger alumni cup venue, and that threw me off a bit.
Part of the problem was that I hadn’t competed in so long that I didn’t prepare properly. The day before the tournament my forehand rubber started lifting at the edges, so I re-glued it with a single coat of No. 15 inorganic glue and called it done. In a big hall, you really should apply two or three coats to maintain elasticity, otherwise your topspin loops feel weak and slow. Ovtcharov once mentioned that in a small hall he applies two coats of inorganic glue to the sponge, but in a large hall he applies three.
2. Competition Is a Different Animal
I felt mentally relaxed going into the matches. But I ended up losing two that day, at least one of which I had no business losing. It exposed some real problems.
I’ve been using my backhand a lot more in practice lately. But the moment a real match started, my body defaulted to the old habit of sidestep-around forehand attack. The trouble is, my sidestepping efficiency and speed have both declined because I rarely train that way anymore.
The fix is simple: play more tournaments. You naturally recalibrate yourself to competition conditions — the right mix of tactics, the on-the-fly adjustments. In regular practice you’re hitting familiar patterns you’ve prepared for. When you’re match-rusty, an unfamiliar ball just scrambles your brain.
Look at this year’s World Championships in London: Lin Shidong returned to the main roster after a long competitive absence and dropped three straight in the group stage — 1-3 to Oh Junseong, 2-3 to Lanfrec, 1-3 to Karlberg. The coaching staff must have had enormous confidence in him to give him such a big assignment at the Worlds without letting him warm up in some smaller events first. It’s very hard to get back to your peak level that fast.
The prevailing approach among foreign associations now is to use matches as training, the Japanese team especially so — they let athletes develop through actual competition. Our closed-camp training model is less effective than it used to be, while foreign programs are improving fast. We may have no choice but to adopt that same “compete to train” philosophy.
3. A Clear Mind
The best competitive state is one of genuine relaxation — a mind free of distractions.
As I’ve gotten older, as career demands have grown and family life has gotten more complicated, my appetite for competition has slowly faded. During this alumni cup I was also writing posts and handling a constant stream of order inquiries every single day. That does wear on you. I even started wondering whether I need to completely step away from writing and business during tournament periods.
Walking along the Shapowei waterfront this evening, I thought: whether you’re walking alone or with someone, happiness is possible either way. When happiness isn’t there, it means your mind is occupied by something else, and you can’t be fully present.
Maybe that’s the real difference between being ten years younger and ten years older. When you’re young, your mind carries less — it’s easier to relax, to be fully absorbed in competition, to enjoy travel with a light heart.
When you’re older, there’s always a pile of things waiting for you at every moment. That’s just what life is.
Tomorrow the Sports Expo opens. I’m looking forward to seeing what new products I can share with everyone — and what the brands have planned. That’s honestly what I’m most looking forward to on this whole trip.