I was watching the season premiere of The Contender, when they decided to put the fighters through a series of high-tech Sparq Training tests to assess their power, agility, endurance, and reflexes. It was so very Rocky IV:
The lightboard test, which tests perception and reflexes, might make a good general screening tool, but it doesn’t test the sport-specific perception that’s crucial to high-level performance:
“Top tennis players can predict the direction and speed of the ball before it leaves the racket,” Farrow says. “So what is it these experts intuitively see that the rest of us don’t? What cues are they picking up on, and when?”To understand what experts were seeing, Farrow meticulously dismantled the mechanics of the serve. He recruited two groups of players — novices and experts — and outfitted each with earmuffs and occlusion goggles, clear glasses that turn opaque when an assistant on the sidelines flips an electronic switch. He then put the athletes on court opposite an expert server. As the server’s arm went back for the shot, Farrow would black out the goggles, leaving players to swing blindly at the incoming ball.
The experiment was not for the faint of heart. Even relatively gentle serves arrived at 60 miles per hour, battering receivers who happened to step into the shot. “The men in particular got uneasy,” Farrow says dryly. He pulls out a faded photo of a man in tennis whites, standing in the ready position and peering through an oversize pair of plastic lenses. “You can see that he has a nervous grin on his face.”
The point of the exercise was to identify exactly when a seasoned player knew where the ball would head. Farrow established five possible windows: First, he blackened the goggles just as the ball’s flight path over the net was determined; second, as the server’s racket made contact with the ball. Then he gave players less and less information — cutting off the image when the server’s arm was cocked, as it was being drawn back, and, finally, at the very start of the toss.
Not surprisingly, receivers were better at guessing the ball’s direction the later their vision cut out. But the results also revealed something more interesting. Graphs of the amateurs’ reactions showed that they could anticipate where the ball would go only if they witnessed the racket making contact with it. Experts knew what would happen roughly a third of a second earlier, when the server’s cocked arm was still unfolding.
What happened in that fraction of a second? A lot, Farrow reasoned. Up to a point, he theorized, the direction of a serve was fundamentally unpredictable: Whatever clues existed weren’t ones that an opposing player could discern. By the time the ball had been hit, on the other hand, even a novice could make a plausible guess at its trajectory. What separated the pros from everyone else was the ability to pull directional information out of the early stages of a swing and therefore to predict a split second earlier where to head. This fraction of time is game- changing. A serve going 120 miles per hour takes approximately a third of a second to travel the 60 feet from baseline to service line. This means that an expert, who doesn’t have to wait until contact, has twice as long to move, plant his feet, and swing.
This discovery fit with something Farrow and other tennis researchers had already suspected: Reflex speed is not the key factor in returning a serve. “People have tested casual players and experts, and their reaction times are essentially the same,” Farrow says. The fact that Roger Federer can drill back a 140-mile-per-hour serve is partly a matter of muscle control. But it’s also about processing subtle visual cues to predict where the ball will go and get to the right spot.