From our vantage point almost a half-century later, it’s easy to forget just how big an upset Arthur Ashe scored with his 1975 Wimbledon victory over Jimmy Connors. Connors was the top seed and defending champion, still riding high from a 1974 campaign that ranks among the best ever. Ashe was a few days short of his 32nd birthday, had a reputation of coming up short in finals, and had lost to Connors in their three previous meetings.
(For what it’s worth, my Elo algorithm thinks it was a much closer match than the bookies did at the time. It rated Ashe the second-best player in the tournament on grass courts, and gave the underdog a 39% chance of winning.)
Ashe ran away with the first two sets and held on to win in four, 6-1 6-1 5-7 6-4. Perhaps because the two men didn’t get along–apart from striking personality differences, Connors and his manager targeted Ashe with one of many lawsuits–the veteran was uncharacteristically critical of his opponent after the match. Ashe claimed that Connors missed many of his shots into the net (rather than long), a sign of choking.
Connors denied it, of course. It later came out that Jimmy was dealing with a foot problem which probably affected his play that day. In any case, fans and pundits surely had their fun debating whether Connors was a choker. I don’t know of anyone who took the question beyond simple speculation. No amount of statistical analysis can settle whether a player choked, but we can often answer adjacent questions to shed more light on the issue.
Counting errors
A couple of years ago I charted the Wimbledon final for the Match Charting Project, so we have a full count of errors–forced and unforced, serves and rallying shots, net and deep–for the entire match. We also have similar shot-by-shot stats for 25 other Connors matches for comparison. (Unfortunately, 24 of the 25 are chronologically later than the Ashe match, because there’s not much full-match footage from the early 70s.)
Here’s the tally: Excluding serves, Connors committed 13 unforced errors, 10 of them into the net. I recorded the type of error for 65 more forced errors: 32 into the net, 33 other. (Ashe was a netrusher, so many of Jimbo’s mistakes were failed passing shots.) On serve, he missed 29 first deliveries: 16 into the net, 13 otherwise. And his two second serve faults were split between one into the net and one elsewhere.
The unforced error split of 10-to-3 means that 77% of his UFEs were netted. That’s the most extreme of any of his charted matches; on average, his unforced errors were half nets, half others. While suggestive, that’s an awfully small sample from which to draw any conclusions.
Using larger samples that include forced errors and serves, the Wimbledon final doesn’t particularly stand out among other charted Connors matches. 54% of his non-serve errors (forced or unforced) in that match were netted, compared to 52% over the whole sample. 55% of his service faults against Ashe were hit into the net, versus 49% across the 26 matches. Altogether, Connors made 54% of his total errors and faults into the net in the Wimbledon final, compared to 51% in the broader sample.
Does it matter?
You’ve probably heard the tennis coaching conventional wisdom that it’s better to hit long than to hit into the net. Like most tennis shibboleths, this one has been around for a very long time. Ashe had surely heard it, which partly explains why he made the comment he did. Arthur didn’t have a printout with match stats generated by a consulting company with a gargantuan marketing budget, so he probably recalled a few key points and generalized from there.
If error types matter, we’d expect to see at least a mild correlation between results (say, percentage of points won) and error types. Let’s stay focused on the 26 charted Connors matches for today’s purposes. Here’s a version of the Ashe hypothesis, stripped of emotional content:
When Connors hits more errors than usual into the net, it’s a sign that he’s playing below his standard level.
It turns out that this theory is wrong–or, at best, possibly correct if narrowly defined. I considered five main stats as indicators of errors and faults going into the net:
- Unforced errors (excluding double faults) into the net as a percentage of total unforced errors
- Total rally errors (forced and unforced) into the net as a percentage of total errors
- First serve faults into the net as a percentage of total first serve faults
- All serve faults into the net as a percentage of all serve faults
- All errors and faults into the net as a percentage of all errors and faults
The second (total rally errors) and last (all errors and faults) seem like the most valid of the five, because they give us a decent sample of error types for each match. There is almost exactly zero correlation between the last stat and total points won. And there is a very weak negative correlation (r^2 = 0.05) between the second stat and total points won.
In other words, the Ashe hypothesis might be on to something very minor if our focus in on rally shots. But the correlation is so weak that no human observer would ever notice it, unless they lucked into it by watching a few confirming key moments after being primed by the conventional wisdom.
He didn’t choke like that
I said above that statistical analysis couldn’t settle issues like whether a player choked. We can study what happened, but without machines hooked up to a player’s brain, we can’t tell what was going on inside their heads that might have caused it.
So we can’t say that Connors didn’t choke in the 1975 Wimbledon final. But we have seen that his percentage of into-the-net errors wasn’t that unusual for him (except for the small sample of unforced errors), and we’ve recognized that the number of mistakes he made into the net didn’t have much to say about his level of play that day. If Connors choked, then, it didn’t have anything to do with the low trajectory of his missed shots.
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I learned of Ashe’s post-match comment in Raymond Arsenault’s excellent biography, Arthur Ashe: A Life.