I watched the Wimbledon Men’s Singles Final yesterday.
Novak Djokovic—who has already won the tournament 6 times—was facing off against Nick Kyrgios, an Aussie competing in his first grand slam final.
I was cheering for my fellow antipodean; despite his reputation. Kyrgios is known for his on-court petulance, characterised by angry outbursts and bad attitudes. But his raw talent is undeniable—he often serves the ball at over 130mph, making it hellish for other players to return.
Kyrgios started well, winning the first set with ease. But after Djokovic took the second, and gained the upper hand in the third, Kyrgios self-destructed.
He was shouting at the umpire and his own coaching box. He could be seen shaking his head, muttering to himself, and throwing his racket at the end of a lost game. The commentators had no words. I even started to feel Fremdschämen, which is the German word used to describe the feeling of second-hand embarrassment.
Kygrios had mentally checked out. He’d lost the match in his mind almost an hour before the real match was over.
During that final hour, all I could think about was the role of the mental game in the highest echelons of sport. Djokovic had a vice-like grip on his mind, and that translated into a flowing, clinical performance on the green.
There are few other sports that require as much composure and mental clarity from its players. Perhaps that’s why tennis is such a joy to watch.