One of the things that is so fascinating about being a sports spectator is watching for that moment when someone cracks under pressure. Squash has had a tradition of bringing the nerves of competitors to the forefront. But that tradition is in danger with the passing of the nine-point game.
Jonah Barrington used to talk about the moment of “crisis” in a match. Frequently that moment came during a hard fought match when someone neared victory. The beauty of the nine-point game is that a player needed to win two rallies in a row to score a point. This served to put the pressure on the players to stay calm and not rely on a lucky shot to win a crucial point. At the end of a match, two things often would happen: first, the player with the lead had a slight letdown, and second, the player who was behind started playing with a renewed focus and deliberation.
If the player who was behind managed to win a few rallies – and therefore points – in a row, the complexion of a match could change dramatically. The crisis had come. And the momentum of the player seeking to come from behind could not be stopped by the winning of a single rally. In order to ensure victory, the leader had to play a succession of rallies with steely resolve. Often, this was too much for the leader and the viewers got to watch a match that had suddenly become most interesting.
There are a number of theories about why fifteen-point (or “hardball”) scoring is better for the game. The two most prevalent are that it is easier for the new viewer to understand and that it means that the length of any given match is more likely within certain parameters (a nine-point game, needless to say, can go on for a long time).
Each of these theories has holes. If we expect new viewers to comprehend the difference between a let and a stroke, it shouldn’t be asking too much for them to understand that only the server can score a point. If, for example, you tell a new viewer that the scoring is “like volleyball scoring” chances are that they will comprehend it easily.
Interestingly, the average length of a match has not changed all that much since the adoption of fifteen-point scoring in the pros (it has dropped a couple of minutes). While there has been a reduction in the number of extra-long matches, there has been a corresponding increase the number of shorter-than-average matches. Part of this may be due to the fact that with the fifteen-point game there is little chance of a comeback once one of the players has a five-point lead.
Ed Reade, the legendary former coach of the boys team at Deerfield Academy, once analyzed hundreds of matches to find that the player who got to five first eventually wins the game a full three-quarters of the time. This, of course, was in the days of hardball, but this knowledge certainly lessens the suspense.
And though I don’t have hard numbers here, my intuition is that comebacks are more likely from an 8-1 deficit in nine-point scoring than from a 14-9 lead in fifteen-point scoring. In nine-point scoring, there was a feeling that a match was never quite over until the last point was played; that feeling is not nearly as prevalent with fifteen-point scoring.
One of the things that squash struggles with is how to make the game more attractive for spectators. I have always felt that squash should embrace those characteristics that make it different from other sports. One of those attributes is the element of fitness. We should be proud of the fact that according to a study in Europe a decade ago, professional softball squash players required the highest degree of fitness of any sport in the world played with a ball. That is one of our game’s strongest appeals. Nine-point scoring always accented that fact, and we should embrace it, not move away from it.
When I first got into softball, I remember watching a tape of a match between Qamar Zaman and Geoff Hunt. Hunt was down 2-0 in games and down 8-3 in the third. Hunt managed to get the serve back, then lost it. He got it again, then lost it again. He got it a third time and won one point. Zaman got the serve back. Then Hunt won another rally. Barrington, the commentator on the tape, said with obvious relish in his voice: “Oh dear, this is crisis time for Zaman now.”
Huh? Up 8-4 in the third with a 2-0 lead? Crisis time? You bet. Though Zaman had only lost one point, by failing to win two in a row on three successive occasions, he was now in danger. The mental game had become as important as the physical. And in one of the most dramatic matches I have ever seen, Hunt steadily forged his way back and won in five.
With fifteen-point scoring, the match would undoubtedly have been shorter. But almost certainly it would not have been better.
