September 2003. A group of us from the high school tennis team drilled forehands in the near-dark. It was not our finest moment; in fact, we sucked, spraying balls all over the court, barely getting into position for the next shot.
After 20 or so minutes of this, coach made a novel suggestion. “Girls,” he said, “I want you to grunt.”
It worked. Every time one of us hit the ball, she’d uncork a huge howl from deep within her gut. Our footwork improved, our shots started landing in the lines — or at least clearing the net — and for a moment we were actually playing tennis.
Which is just one of the reasons I was dismayed to read that the Women’s Tennis Association wants to start regulating grunting. Convinced that loud female grunts distract opponents and annoy fans, the organization unveiled a plan to 1) develop a hand-held device with which refs can measure on-court grunting levels, 2) set a maximum volume for grunting during a match, and 3) teach aspiring woman athletes at tennis academies and development programs how to compete quietly.
Even feminist icon Billie Jean King seems to regard the WTA’s campaign against “excessive grunting” as a step forward. But forward toward what? Not necessarily better tennis. Anecdotally and scientifically, grunting can take a player’s game to the next level: It promotes focus and concentration, helps with timing, and even disguises the sound of the ball.
The crackdown will take some time to implement — former athletes, WTA officials, and other experts all agree it would be unfair to ask the current crop of stars to suddenly relearn their breathing techniques. Meanwhile, for the players coming up, competing in the sport they love and are good at, shouting must be a pure expression of agency. I still remember the thrill of releasing a huge, ugly grunt when my racket made contact with the tennis ball. No one had ever told me it was OK to make noises like that. It felt great.
Slate.com