"Telegraphing" Your Touches : Are You "Tipping Off?"
Item
-
Title
-
"Telegraphing" Your Touches : Are You "Tipping Off?"
-
Date
-
May 1942
-
volume
-
7
-
issue
-
2
-
page start
-
5
-
page end
-
6
-
list of authors
-
Donald F. Barnes
-
content
-
en
“Telegraphing” Your Touches
ARE YOU "TIPPING OFF?"
By Donald F. Barnes
This is an article designed to be read with profit by both the novice and the top-flight competitor. And if you aren't "tipping off" yourself, it may help you to discover someone else's tip-offs.
—
LAST season we sat in the stands at one of New York's football games—high up behind the goal posts—with an assistant coach who was scouting one of the teams. When we remarked about how difficult it must be to chart complicated plays after seeing them run off only once or twice, and to prepare a defense for them, the scout said:
"I don't care about the plays. Anyhow, the team I'm scouting is saving up most of its good plays to use against us next week. What I'm looking for is tip-offs."
When we inquired what "tip-offs" were, he pointed to one of the players. "Watch that man," he said. "He does most of the punting when he's in the game. When he's really going to punt, he knocks the mud out of his cleats before the play starts. If it's going to be a fake, he doesn't bother. Our boys won't have to worry about fake kicks next week as long as he's in there tipping off."
He pointed out a 200-pound guard. "That man usually leads the interference. I've been studying him for almost a quarter now. If he leans one way or the other, or puts one foot out of line when the team goes to the line of scrimmage, he may be giving away which direction the play is going."
As we looked at the teams through field glasses and tried to discover some of these quirks for ourself, we remembered a baseball story we'd heard many years ago. It was about a rookie pitcher, who had put together an impressive record in the minor leagues for a couple of years, and finally got his trial in the majors. He was almost unbeatable for two months—some special pitch of his own, known as a "floater," kept the batters mystified. But then in mid-summer something happened, and he began to be knocked out of the box regularly. The next year he went back to the minors, but he never regained control over the batters. The last he was heard of, he was making a little money pitching week-end games for semi-pro teams.
Most people thought the rookie had cracked under the strain of the big leagues, but a sports writer who was talking about the case told us later that this wasn't so. His opponents' coaches studied him throughout the season, and finally found that he was giving away his "floater." They flashed a sign to the batter, and he was able to adjust his swing to the tantalizing pitch. The rookie found out what was happening, but try as he would he couldn't mask that pitch. When everyone caught on, he was through.
Such tip-offs are common in every sport where one player can profit by another's idiosyncracies: the tennis player whose actions tell where his returns are going, the hockey player who unconsciously signals when he's going to shoot, the miler who lets his opponents know when his sprint is about to start, the boxer who "telegraphs" his left jab—and the fencer.
Yes, even the fencer. Let's go back a couple of years to a fairly important foil competition. The deciding bout was between a man who was a confirmed attacker, and another who usually sat back and depended on his parry-riposte. The first couple of touches followed the script. The attacker blasted in several times, and carved out a 2-0 lead. But suddenly the man whose forte was defense began to take the attacking tempo away from his opponent. In a matter of four or five minutes he had won the bout, 5-3.
Later on when the winner was asked for an explanation of the sudden change, he said: "I suddenly found out that all I had to do was watch his left hand. It was usually relaxed. But when he decided to attack he clenched his fist. So I simply attacked whenever he clenched his fist, and caught him off-balance."
It was as easy as that. The winner, perhaps not the most polished fencer, kept his wits about him, discovered the weak point that he could exploit most easily, and used it to win.
Many fencers have some sort of a tip-off in their games. Some have been lucky and have gotten away without having a sharp opponent notice it. Others have been good enough to win in spite of their tip-offs. But many fencers who wonder how they can keep losing to inferior opponents have labeled themselves.
Not all of these signals are unnecessary little quirks of nervousness or concentration. Some take the form of favorite attacks or ripostes that the opponent can always count on. There are foilsmen, for instance, who always end their attacks—however complicated they seem to be—in their adversaries' quarte line. The fencer who discovers this can close his eyes, go into quarte and still be sure of making the parry.
Other foilsmen will reserve their attacks until they can take the blade. When the blade is kept away from them they are unable to prepare an attack. The opponent who ferrets out these habits has a big advantage, even though his own fencing may not be outstanding.
But more often than not the tip-off will be merely a nervous habit. A forthcoming attack may be signaled by hitching the trouser-leg, by straightening the mask, by bringing up the back foot slightly, by crouching lower or by a tentative "Eh la!" To the smart opponent, these may be the equivalents of yelling, "Here I come!"
Eliminating the practice of hoisting these signal flags is simply a matter of spending a little time concentrating on one's form. The fencer who spends an hour or so during bouts in the salle watching his own actions, studying all the non-essential motions he goes through and working to pare his form to the point where every action he takes is a necessary one, should be able to find his quirks easily and rid himself of them quickly.
Fencers should never expect their opponents, no matter how friendly the bout may be, to tell them how they are tipping off. It's a problem for the individual to solve himself, and it's easier than most problems in the sport.
The next time you start a compound attack and find yourself impaled on a stop-thrust before you have even gotten under way, the next time you find your opponent beating you to the lunge time after time, stop and ask yourself, "How did he know I was coming? How was I tipping off?"
