Sadly, albeit unsurprisingly, the flipspin did not even get the ball to the net, much less over it. Other forehand attempts included pushing the racquet like an oar and swinging it two-handed like a bat. When those plans of attack failed, I began ridiculously running around my forehand to hit more backhands. Please think about that for a moment. I was running around my forehand.
Nobody runs around a forehand.
It's the easiest shot in tennis, every player's bread and butter. But there I was, purposely removing it from my arsenal rather than continue my clumsy prancing and patting. In keeping with my luck at the time, however, all this new strategy really accomplished was to hinder both shots. I thought about all those hours in my youth spent hitting tennis balls against cement walls. How easy it was to strike punishing and accurate forehands in the absence of a real opponent.