Lazy Feet Syndrome
"Move your [darn] feet, idiot!" Have you not heard yourself shouting this at yourself? Perhaps if you substitute a juicier word for "darn" it will sound more familiar. I had trouble naming this syndrome because it is not just about footwork. This syndrome represents a global descent into slothfulness and lethargy that can bring down your entire game. Besides not moving your feet you also don't prepare early (or at all), fail to anticipate, lope to the ball and then forget how to hit it in a drowsy haze. You get angry at yourself, stomp your feet, toss your racket and abuse yourself, and the ball but none of it seems to "wake you up". It just seems to get you more depressed and more torpid.
The fundamental pathophysiology of this condition is a lack of energy. You are depressed - biochemically as well as emotionally. It's not that you don't want to win - winning is always preferable to losing. It may be that you care too much about winning. There are several ways you can find yourself in this state of mind and body, and knowing those ways can help to avoid this bear trap, but more important is to quickly recognize that it is happening to you and knowing a few quick-and-dirty ways to get out of it.
First you need to know where you want to be emotionally. You want to be keyed up, optimistic, attentive, bright, heart racing, breathless, flushed, hyperalert - more squirrel than sloth. For that you need adrenaline. You need to bathe your insides in it. Right now. But how does one trigger an instant release of fight or flight hormones? Under what circumstances does that naturally occur? What we want is to be excited. Excitement is a very positive and very energetic state of being, but have you ever tried to get yourself to be excited about something? Christmas is a good example. For seven-year-olds trying to get to sleep on Christmas eve there is just no suppressing the excitement they feel, but for their parents, especially after a few cocktails, it is a struggle to stay awake long enough to put the bikes together and then frame Santa for it with a few strategically placed, half-eaten cookies. If we could churn up excitement at will, life could be a dream. It isn't, and our attitudes do not easily surrender to our will.
Back to our tennis match and our somnambulistic state of torpor. We need some adrenaline, and we need it right now. Where does the squirrel get it; munching on an acorn, up on its hind legs, glancing around furtively. It is happy that it has an acorn to eat, but what jacks it up is the threat of a shrike swooping down on it and carrying it away to be devoured by its voracious, flea-bitten chicks. It is fear that triggers the adrenaline release in the squirrel, so why not in you? I know you are afraid - of losing the match, of being a loser, of embarrassment, of your own ineptitude... but not, oddly, of your opponent. Your fears are all directed inward, but at what?
Detachment
The squirrel fears the shrike. It has no fear of failure, only of sharp beak and claws. The squirrel trusts its mind and body to see, hear, run, hide, jump, climb - to competently do all of the things that it needs to do to mitigate a disaster. The squirrel has a "self", and ego just like you do, but it doesn't allow its self to interfere with the business of survival. It naturally trusts its instincts and experience. The squirrel, in this regard, is smarter than you are. You doubt your abilities, your training, your knowledge - your ability to win. Your ego, living in your enormous cerebral cortex, rides rough-shod over the rest of your mind, pouring inhibitory neurotransmitters all over your brain, turning action into hesitation and anxiety into depression. Depression stifles the very acts that support victory, including early preparation, active footwork, and graceful execution. It makes you feel tired, logy, slow and stupid. It ruins everything, but the first and foremost ruination is dynanic balance.