June 11, 2010
Old Dog Learns New Tricks: Training with Stefan Feth
Robert Euvino and Stefan Feth
By Robert Euvino
As a long-time table tennis addict living in a region void of many high level players I frequently struggle in my quest to improve. At forty two years of age I have intermittent back problems and possess a build more suited for rugby than for a game of such precision and finesse. I regularly ask myself the usual questions. At my age can I still make significant progress? Are the ingrained flaws in my game cureless? Can a lack of natural talent be compensated for by a hard work ethic? How many points could I get off a world class player? Do I really need to move my feet or is there a way to subliminally coerce my opponents into hitting the ball straight to me, with only moderate spin? And why am I even doing this at all?
The last one is easy. Because it’s fun. Fun so profound and obsessive it furrows the brows of most here in the U.S. who have never been exposed to table tennis on a higher level and understandably can’t quite wrap their mind around the infatuation. Other pong enthusiasts nod knowingly, sharing an unspoken brother or sisterhood due to communal affliction. And fun, understood or not, needs no further rationale.
The remaining questions did however require additional exploration, which is what led me from my humble corner in upstate NY three thousand miles west to the World Champions Table Tennis Academy in the San Francisco bay region. To be sure, I could have easily shortened my commute and simultaneously saved a lot of money by taking lessons right here in NY or attending a camp in adjoining NJ. There are plenty of great players, coaches, and clubs within two hours reach that would have hungrily taken my cash in return for a sweaty session or three. But I needed to get away. Far away. I needed to immerse myself in a foreign environment without pesky, annoying distractions like my friends and family. I needed a vacation.
Hmmmm, Mojitos on a tropical island, or grueling daily sessions in a sparse, concrete building with a stranger who makes me feel about as graceful as a seizure while reminding me daily of what I will never be? Easy choice. As a genuine altruist I’m sympathetic to bartenders, and Mojitos are a real pain to make. I booked a flight to refine my loop rather than to get looped on a beach.
Although I had researched table tennis camps, I found none scheduled which aligned with when I could coordinate my trip. Therefore I decided to ‘build’ a camp of my own, which was basically scheduling an intensive series of daily lessons. This turned out to be a much more expensive overture than typical camps, which certainly offer the best bang for the buck. Why California? Why Stefan Feth? The decision wasn’t easy as the bay region is chock full of great options, and northern California is considered by many to be the capital of table tennis in the United States. Practically around the corner from my hotel is the ICC, one of the largest and best equipped clubs in the country. It is home to several high-level full-time coaches and headed by Rajul Sheth, a veteran of the Indian national team who was crowned U.S. Developmental Coach of the Year in 2008. This made the ICC one of several tempting options for sure. Feth, a former member of the German national team and current coach of the U.S. men’s national team, works out of a much smaller, nondescript venue that sits concealed behind a lighting warehouse. He works alongside Nan Li, former US National team member and the Chinese daughter of two former four time world champions, Li Zhen Shi and Zhang Li.
Another question nagged as I planned the details of my excursion. Should I choose one coach to work with exclusively, or would it be in my better interests to take lessons from as many different coaches as I could get my grimy hands on? Solid arguments exist for either approach. The latter choice would expose me to several teaching styles, and what one set of eyes might miss another might pick up on. But then there is the train of thought whereby too many chefs can spoil the broth. And some time would inevitably be wasted as multiple coaches redundantly became attuned to the nuances and quirks of my own specific game. In the best of all worlds I would have taken a couple of lessons with every coach I could arrange time with, and then choose the one I liked best for the remainder of my stay. But this isn’t the best of all worlds and that wasn’t realistic as I needed to schedule with whomever I chose well in advance of my journey.
The first time I saw Stefan play was in October 2005, at a tournament in Lafayette, PA. I witnessed him decisively beating six-time national champion David Zhuang in the final. I didn’t know who Stefan was at the time, but overheard the buzz amongst nearly everyone present. Clearly this imposter from Germany was something special; someone a cut above the very best here in the States. Little did I know years later I’d be spending significant time with this lanky ringer. I was torn. ICC with its myriad coaching staff and beautiful facility, or the understated World Champions Table Tennis Academy with Stefan? In some sense it felt like a choice between the opposing training camps from Rocky IV. Do I play the role of huge, chiseled Russian challenger Ivan Drago and opt for the sophistication of a cutting edge gym replete with state-of-the-art equipment and technological gadgetry, or do I spar in the meat freezer, swinging my paddle against hanging sides of beef alongside someone whose game I had already seen and had huge respect for? I chose old school. And man I couldn’t have been happier with my choice.
I signed up to do two sessions daily at the academy, with a break between. Stefan is not a man who has any shortage of students interested in slices of his time and I imagined this demand might make it, on some level, easy for him to overlook the efforts of just one more aging non-prodigy looking to tap his resources. Just the opposite occurred. Upon my arrival I received a warm greeting from Stefan and sensed a genuine and insightful appreciation regarding the substantial travel efforts and financial investment made by me to study with him. This theme clearly wasn’t a contrived introductory formality as it extended throughout my stay. As other students and players would come and go I was often introduced by Stefan with something along the lines of “This is Robert, who came all the way from New York to be here”. It felt nice to be valued and set a good tone for our work together. After my second day of training I was chatting with Nan. She commented “You seem really…nice…for someone from…,” pausing as if searching for the right words to dodge prejudice. I completed her sentence with “New York?” to which she smiled and nodded. I felt a peculiar sense of pride, as if not turning out to be a complete a-hole was some sort of achievement. Momma would have been proud.
So I set up my video camera and training began. I learned, unlearned, practiced, drilled, huffed and puffed until all my towels were saturated and my legs wobbled. On most eves after my lessons I was directed to other local clubs in the bay area to so I could further put into practice my assignments. These included the ICC (thanks to Bruce Liu for accommodating me), Topspin in San Jose, and the very welcoming West Side Advanced Table Tennis Club in Saratoga. Stefan found many creative ways to help me refine as well as redefine my game, and when Nan wasn’t working with her own students she offered plenty of advice and firm reminders. She plays and teaches so well I wouldn’t be surprised if she originally hatched directly out of a ping pong ball. They worked together as a team and it gave me a glimpse of what one of their training camps would be like. I was given much more information than any mortal could ever grasp in the time we had. That was our strategy. The idea was to collect as much knowledge as possible in a condensed span so that I could return to my cave and sort through it all over a more extended period. I reviewed video and took notes between our sessions. Watching some of the other students who fit between my slots was a bonus and almost as beneficial as my own time on the table. In particular I got to watch and befriend siblings Kanak,9, and Prachi Jha, 12, both top juniors in the U.S. within their respective age divisions. Witnessing the future of table tennis in this casual setting was inspirational as these two killers exhibited superb strokes, mature strategies, and fierce competitive spirits – all while having a blast. Inspiration comes in many hues, but this was somehow different; more tangible. Sure I can get pumped watching Greece’s Kreanga rip outrageously inhuman backhands, or Joo Se Hyuk’s tremendous combination of defense and offense or Waldner’s inventive and maddeningly deceptive trick shots. But those superstars have played twenty three hours a day since they were six months old, table tennis is their day job, and they aren’t even from this planet anyway. Trying to emulate what these guys make look easy is usually an exercise in irritating futility and reminiscent of trying to catch a housefly midair. I swing wildly and clench my fist in the air, confident in my form and convinced of my prize. Slowly I unfurl my fingers and…nothing. Eventually I come to expect the same disappointing results, shoulder the fault and stop hating the fly for my own incompetence. But watching a puny, smiley nine year old play as well as Kanak does after only three years…now that’s just something. I’m not ashamed to admit that underlying my thinking was the simple mentality of ‘Well, if a nine year old can do it, so can I.’
Even if I can’t.
And that motivates me. Then again if it didn’t it would unquestionably backfire and lead to infernal frustration. Upon which I would have to find solace in the fact I can kick his *ss. Not in table tennis. No, I mean I could really kick his *ss.
Beside the specifics of technique I had come to learn I found many opportunities to pick Stefan’s brain about all things ping pong as well as many non-pong related topics. When I started affectionately referring to him as ‘McStef’ his confused expressions eventually gave way to grins as he learned my personality and sense of humor are often laced with non-sequiturs. In return I reminded him he needn’t apologize nor explain that when he called me crazy it wasn’t meant offensively. None taken. It was fun to become acquainted with someone who is not only a central figure within the elite table tennis arena in the States but also someone still so connected with the international scene that fostered him into the player he is. He shared many anecdotal tales of his tutelage under the legendary Polish champion Andrzej Grubba. He described his years playing abroad alongside Timo Boll and others on the German National Team and revealed how he is still in weekly contact with many of them in order to keep abreast of the latest ever-evolving training techniques. He expounded upon the horror exhibited by his home team brethren after informing them of his plans to permanently take up residence in the U.S. to pursue a full-time coaching career. “But the U.S. is a third world country when it comes to table tennis!” they protested. Lucky for us he didn’t listen. He dispelled certain myths, but also confirmed some reports I long suspected were true. Reports such as the controversial practice whereby pregnant women in China are forced to swallow tiny paddles so their growing fetuses would have something to practice with, although even Stefan admitted he questioned the effectiveness and playback qualities of a uterine wall. He entrusted me with top secret information, such as the subtle differences between the chicken and beef loop. If you’ve studied with Stefan you know what I’m talking about. As for the rest reading here, I’d have to kill you before sharing that knowledge.
But the most surprising thing I walked away with was a new friend. A real friend. Of course I anticipated I’d bond on some level with an individual I had come so far to spend nearly two weeks with, but I didn’t know what to expect once I left. I paid for a service which was delivered, and had that been where it ended so be it. When I have the muffler on my car replaced I certainly don’t get follow up calls to see how my tailpipe is holding up, so why would I expect anything different in this case? I’ve taken lessons by others where the residual relationship post seminar somewhat resembled the ‘outta sight outta mind’ parenting we observe within most reptile species. In other words it was non existent. And I never felt even mildly slighted by that. But by comparison this is where Stefan has really shone. His success is now measured more by the satisfaction and results of his students than it is by his own play (which by the way is still spectacular), and that’s the difference between a player who coaches and a coach who is a player. Stefan is not only a coach who plays, but a coach who cares. He has a bona fide interest in my progress despite everything I’m not. I am not the future of table tennis. I am not a young phenom and I am not all that accomplished a player in the grand scheme of things. But if I do anything as well as Stefan when it comes to this sport it would have to be…just loving it. And that commonality was plenty enough to cement the friendship. We’re in regular contact and he and I share favorite points and matches via the internet while chewing the proverbial fat. Or should I say sponge? I’ll be sending him clips of my (hopefully) improved game and he will further dissect what I have or have not grasped. So the aforementioned extra expense of building my own camp has really turned out to be a pretty amazing deal after all, and all my original questions now have answers. This old dog can learn new tricks.
Great players do not always make great teachers. Stefan is both. Without blowing too much smoke up his paddle case, I also really did garner significant respect for him beyond his ability on a table. By accepting the prestigious position as head coach of the men’s national team and migrating here from his homeland, Mr. Feth is in a position to significantly alter the table tennis landscape in this country. No mean feat considering how broken and scattered the table tennis infrastructure is in the U.S., not to mention the politics and sketchy financial incentives which have plagued ping pong for decades and disallowed America from ever being considered any real threat to the outside superpowers. But if anyone can have an impact, Stefan with his selfless ambition can. One lesson, net, or edge ball at a time.
I’m back home now and have returned to my regular routine of being a decent sized fish in a small pond. I coordinate a club of my own located in Kingston NY: The Mid Hudson Valley Table Tennis Club, which is less than two hours north of New York City. I’m grateful for my time at the Academy not just insomuch as what was being taught, but for how it was taught, which has manifested into a wonderful trickle down effect as I pass the knowledge on to my own students. I will absolutely continue working with Stefan in the future and look forward to picking up my training where we left off, whether it be in six months or two years. I’m sure we’ll also have plenty of non-table tennis related banter to share which we’ll do over a drink next time our paths cross. Still committed to sparing some unnamed, unknowing mixologist a headache however, I think I’ll opt for a beer as opposed to a Mojito. I’m sure Stefan will insist it be a ‘real’ beer, of German descent.
To repeat myself, man I couldn’t be happier with my choice. If I recall, in the end Rocky did end up beating Drago.
Old school rocks. Thanks McStef!
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