Runa Reta - WISPA Squash Pro on Tour on www.squashtalk.com

Runa Comes Face-to-Face with a Sophomore Slump ...

Sophomore slump: a term often used to describe the faltering performances of
artists and athletes (in particular) following a distinctly successful first year. We have all heard it used before but I had never identified with it on a personal level.

Runa seeks escape from the Sophomore Slump (photo courtesy Runa Reta)

After all, up until now, all my “sophomore” years had been pretty good. My sophomore year in high school was a breeze. My sophomore year in college was the most fun and memorable of my 4 years in school. Even my sophomore year of life, though I can’t remember it, couldn’t have been too shabby (learning to walk and talk, drooling, being fed at will…what more can you ask for?).

So understandably, it came as a bit of a shock to experience any of the signs that people associated with the Slump as I entered my second season as a full-time pro. And now, several months later, as my season has come to a close (and as I have had many weeks to sit by the pool, pondering aimlessly about the meaning of life), I have come to understand the nature of this phenomenon, which- based on the conventional definition- seemed to have made me the stand-out victim of the 04-05 season.

SLUMP SYMPTOMS
So why do I even contend that I was in a slump this year? After all, more often than not I seem to be congratulated by people who believe that I had a very successful year on tour. Unfortunately, as much as I would love to agree with these wildly upbeat comments regarding my performance, I am much too cynical to accept such statements at face value. In fact, rather than gratefully acknowledge peoples’ attempts at cordial conversation and standard niceties, I have acquired a bad habit of clarifying just how utterly misinformed they really are about me (a sure conversation killer by the way. Illustration-- Bob: “soooo, you did well on the circuit this past year eh?” Me: “no, no I didn’t. I totally bombed actually” Bob: “….uh…..???….”) Despite my clear deficiency in the social competence department, the fact remains that from May of 2004 to May 2005, I climbed a whopping 2 spots. Compared to my first year, where I jumped 42 spots in the same amount of time, that statistic is nothing short of painful.

Runa in action with Sally Looi in Malaysia (photo © Alex Wan)

If you noticed in my last comment however, I implied that I was in a slump based on my progress in the world rankings, which brings me to the main issue: how exactly do you measure the Sophomore Slump? In music for instance, judging a band’s performance can be based on comparing record sales of the first album to the second, or more subjectively, from the critical acclaim (judging the quality of music) across albums. In other words, consideration is often given to an artist’s growth, level of experimentation, etc. in determining his/her success.

STATS STATS STATS
In sport however, the same standard does not apply. Judging a player’s success tends to revolve solely around numbers and stats, or put simply, what one was able to achieve in the first year versus the second. This is an unfortunate reality given that upon closer inspection there are many reasonable explanations for stagnant performance indicators following a successful rookie year. Let us look at the womens squash circuit as a case in point.

The first thing to note about the womens circuit is that it is a substantially easier task to make leaps and bounds when one is starting out at 80+ in the rankings, versus 40 and below. By training hard, playing numerous international tournaments and with a bit of luck with good draws, the goal of being ranked in the top 50 or 60 in the world is a very reasonable and attainable one (after all, many players in the 50s and downwards are not full-time athletes, thus affording greater opportunities to the more active players to accumulate points and move up the system). Once you enter the top 40 however, every player tends to be incredibly competitive, looking to do whatever is necessary to snag one of the few coveted spots at the top of the rankings.

Just ahead of the top 40, the top 30 is typically a place where those who have been on tour for several years remain, accumulating points. These players gain automatic inclusion into most of the biggest tournaments of the year (with the greatest amount of ranking points), which those newer, upcoming players who lie just outside the cutoff may not have access to. These two factors combine to explain why there seem to be greater point differentials at the higher ranking levels than the lower ones. It also means that newer players making a push up the rankings ultimately hit a point where they find that they must make up much more ground just to move from one spot to the next (starting around 30 and higher). As an example, 21-year-old Alison Waters (on her second season out of the juniors, playing seriously on the WISPA tour) was named Most Improved Player of the Year by her peers at the end of 2004, yet spent the better part of 6 months (July – December) stagnating between 25 and 27 in the world rankings. Despite a whole season of consistently challenging or beating top 15 players in the world, she was only able to crack the top 20 this past May (and still has a ways to go before getting a ranking that clearly reflects her ability- probably around the top 10 mark). This shows just how difficult it is to make large dents in the rankings at this level, even for those with exceptional talent.

It is also noteworthy that upon entering the top 40, one begins to qualify for those larger sized events that were aforementioned. This privilege is in fact a double-edged sword because although one finally has access to higher levels of points, filling one of the last spots in a draw also signifies a first round match-up against one of the very top players in the world. Under these circumstances, achieving results and getting the higher points becomes a bit of a mirage. (Alison fell prey to this reality as well, which slowed her progress even further).

One of the main things that makes it so difficult to have success against the top players is simply their level of playing experience. It goes without saying that those with greater levels of experience have a clear advantage over the rest of the field. After all, hard work and ability can only take you so far; much of what makes up the best players in the world (regardless of age or sport) is the experience they have in making the right choices or plays in any given situation, and this ability can only be acquired with the passage of time. It is because of a lack of competitive experience that newer players tend to hit a plateau with their results early on. They may have success against players of their own stature in their first few years on tour, but it takes a much longer amount of time to start chipping away and beating the more experienced players who sit atop the rankings.

Lastly, it is important to note that as a newcomer on the tour, it is very easy to be overlooked and underestimated by opponents in a draw, which could allow for some upsets early on that would not occur in subsequent encounters. I certainly experienced this in my first year as a full-time pro. To be sure, every upset that I caused on tour was due to a high standard of play, but there is no doubt that I was aided by my opponents’ lack of preparedness coming into the matches. Interestingly enough, every positive result that I had against a player ranked higher than myself was reversed in later meetings, thus proving that they were much more focused and ready to play me the second time around. Once it was recognized that I was a serious contender moving swiftly up the rankings, players offered me more respect, both on and off the court, thus making it tougher to snag wins against unsuspecting competitors.

In sum, there are many logical explanations that show how and why a player’s results can stagnate after a year of big jumps in the rankings (in fact, barring a miracle of talent, it is natural for all players to show some sluggishness of results). And thus, the key lesson perhaps is that judging an athlete’s success based on performance results and by comparing seasons is a flawed process, akin to equating apples and oranges. As was mentioned at the beginning, very little attention is paid to an athlete’s progress outside of the overt numbers from one season to the next; one simply sees the numbers of one year and expects that those numbers will remain constant (or increase) over time (just look at the ripping that Tiger Woods has received in the last two years, despite his courageous efforts to change parts of his game in order to better himself as a golfer). Does it not matter that as a player, I made significant technical improvements to my game? That I became stronger? That I learned more about the tactical and mental aspects of the tour? And that I am undoubtedly a better player today than I was a year ago? I may have fallen victim to the conventional standards of the Sophomore Slump, but I have learned that there are far more important indicators of one’s progress than numbers alone. There is a backdrop to every story and I suspect that those who throw the term “Slump” around loosely do not fully appreciate the complexity of those stories, which most accurately map out the struggles and triumphs of those athletes trying to make it to the highest echelons of their sport.