Modeled on Plato’s dialogues, Hans-Georg Gadamer’s dialogue about tennis shares some strengths and weaknesses of the incorporated genre. Gadamer’s imitation adopts Plato’s concern with hierarchy: who or what is the best? The dialogue, published in 1965, has no identified voices other than male, making it in that aspect no different from its elitist Platonic paradigm. It’s likely parts of Gadamer’s dialogue will cause some readers to cringe, such as when Socrates suggests that male tennis coaches might be distracted by “pretty young girls” [junge Mädchen]. In an earlier post, I outlined some reasons for the text’s importance beyond its appeal to an audience of tennis enthusiasts and suggested the concluding tone of egalitarianism warrants attention. Outside the context of this dialogue, Gadamer compared intellectual argument to the back-and-forth of a tennis match. The sport clearly influenced his own philosophical outlook and contributions.
I want to thank Elizabeth Wener at Mohr Siebeck for obtaining permission from Gadamer’s daughter to publish this English translation. The copyrighted version of the original appears in Gadamer’s Hermeneutische Entwürfe (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). Thanks also to Alexander Crist who assisted with a couple of helpful suggestions on smoothing rocky portions in the translation.
From Hans-Georg Gadamer’s Hermeneutische Entwürfe (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000): 227-233, translated by Bruce Krajewski.
Socrates: Where are you going in such a hurry?
Fred: To play tennis!
Socrates: Where are going to play?
Fred: At the best club in the city, naturally.
Socrates: So, you know, then, which one is the best?
Fred: Of course.
Socrates: That’s interesting. With so many things, I find myself asking in vain: What makes something good? I’m fortunate to have found someone who knows, if only for tennis. May I ask you?
Fred: Please do.
Socrates: Tell me, why is your club the best?
Fred: Because it’s the best one for networking.
Socrates: What kind of networking? For playing tennis?
Fred: Not at all. I just mean networking in the usual way.
Socrates: Tell me – don’t you go to the tennis club to play tennis?
Fred: Oh, yes, that too.
Socrates: Then tell me now why yours is the best tennis club.
Fred: Because the best players are there.
Socrates: That’s a convincing answer. And yet: Tell me, my friend, if they are all better players than you, have you ever witnessed better players wanting to play with much worse ones?
Fred: Certainly not.
Socrates: Wouldn’t it be better to go to a club where the players are worse than you?
Fred: It might look that way, but then I wouldn’t learn anything.
Socrates: That’s true. Then isn’t it probably best to go to a club where players have similar skill levels?
Fred: Apparently.
Socrates: But what does it mean to be a similarly good player? Those who believe they are at a similar skill level, or those who really are, even if they believe themselves to be better players?
Fred: Those who believe and really are, because any others wouldn’t play with me again.
Socrates: Oh, my. What did you say? In your experience, you equate similarly good players with those who are really better players?
Fred: Yes. That’s true.
Socrates: That kind of person will not like playing with you. So, who do you want to play with, when those who are equally good think they are too good?
Fred: With the worse players, who think they are as good as I am.
Socrates: But then you won’t learn anything. Besides, if they realize they are worse, they won’t push you to play with them, because they want you to think of them as equally good.
Fred: Indeed.
Socrates: It turns out on this line of thinking, my Friend, that your club is the best for some reason other than its players.
Fred: But there are rankings and elimination matches that compensate for that.
Socrates: Have you noticed that elimination matches cut down on disputes? And have you noticed that in the eyes of losers it is always bad luck or the fault of the referee that they lost?
Fred: Yes.
Socrates: And didn’t you notice that the winners aren’t looking for a rematch?
Fred: Yes, but there’s a coach in the club.
Socrates: Ah, so your view is that the best club is the one where the coach has the most say?
Fred: Yes.
Socrates: And if the coach doesn’t say the right thing?
Fred: Of course, I mean the club that has the best coach.
Socrates: What is your understanding of “the best coach”?
Fred: Well, the one who gives the best training sessions.
Socrates: But what good is that to you, if he doesn’t have anything to say? Do you think he will find players to prove you are making progress?
Fred: Of course. That’s what the coach must do. He will set up the correct ranking.
Socrates: Oh, my Friend, the more you explain this to me, the less clear it becomes. Please don’t get upset, but what is “the correct ranking”?
Fred: What do you mean?
Socrates: I mean this: is the correct ranking one in which the best player is first on the list and the worst player last?
Fred: I think so.
Socrates: But how do you know who the best or the worst is if you don’t have playoff games?
Fred: Oh, that’s what the coach says.
Socrates: And how does he know that?
Fred: Oh, he knows.
Socrates: Haven’t you heard that some wise coaches don’t set up a ranking list, but a list that’s strategic?
Fred: Sure.
Socrates: If the worse player ranks ahead of the better one, don’t you think the coach is motivated to avoid fights between players?
Fred: Apparently.
Socrates: A “clever” ranking thus results in making it laborious to come up with serious rankings, and sportsmanship suffers.
Fred: It appears that way.
Socrates: Wouldn’t it be better to have a club where you didn’t play serious games at all, but only training matches?
Fred: It appears so.
Socrates: But do you really think that would help? Wouldn’t the training matches end up being ranked, at least in the dressing room?
Fred: You’re right.
Socrates: Maybe the best club would be one where you don’t play at all?
Fred: That can’t be it. Why would the coach be there then?
Socrates: But who really is the best coach? You said it earlier: the one who has the best training sessions or the one whose sessions really are the best?
Fred: The one whose sessions one considers are the best, and who really is the best.
Socrates: But who is this “one”? A sports committee? The club’s president? Who?
Fred: I’m not quite sure.
Socrates: I would think the ones the coach plays with. They know what his training sessions are like.
Fred: You should think so.
Socrates: But does a coach play with everyone the same way? Is he a robot?
Fred: If it seems good to make an effort, he gives better training sessions.
Socrates: What do you mean by better training sessions?
Fred: Well, that he’s into it. And that he, for example, doesn’t flirt with nearby girls during the session.
Socrates: Do you think he does that less when he plays tennis with a pretty young girl?
Fred: You’ve got that right.
Socrates: So the best coach is the one who gives the best lessons to young girls?
Fred: It appears so.
Socrates: But, think again. Do you really hire a coach because of young girls?
Fred: No.
Socrates: Who actually hires the coach? Don’t you think it’s the people with the biggest influence at the club?
Fred: Certainly – the ones with the dough, and with seniority.
Socrates: Undoubtedly. So would the best coach be the one most eager to play with those who have seniority at the club?
Fred: I’m not sure.
Socrates: You see, this isn’t so easy. Maybe it’s the same with a coach as it is with other people. Maybe it’s not so crucial how he is, but how his wife is?
Fred: Oh, yes, that happens. I’ve heard of situations in which a coach didn’t do so well, because his wife didn’t like the people at the club so much.
Socrates: You see, that’s the way it always is. Even if it’s the groundskeeper. There seems to be an insoluble conflict. What to do if the groundskeeper is good, but his wife is not so endearing, or the wife is nice, but the groundskeeper is sub-par?
Fred: Yeah, that looks to be how things go.
Socrates: But let me ask again, who is a good groundskeeper?
Fred: Oh, simple. The one who maintains the place well.
Socrates: But wouldn’t the place be maintained best, if it were not used at all?
Fred: Indeed.
Socrates: So the best groundskeeper is the one who keeps most places locked?
Fred: But is he allowed to do that?
Socrates: Well, either the surfaces are too wet or they’re too dry [clay courts]. Or they’re reserved for the next tournament. Is the best club where the most places are kept locked?
Fred: I don’t think so.
Socrates: Well, tell me what the best club is. I am completely confused. It’s not where the best networking happens, not where the best players are, not where the best coach is, nor the best groundskeeper. Which is it?
Fred: Maybe the one with the best president.
Socrates: Maybe, but tell me who is the best club president? The one everyone is afraid of and who rules over everyone so that nobody complains? Or the one you don’t even notice?
Fred: I think the one you don’t even notice.
Socrates: Tell me: why is he there anyway?
Fred: Maybe you’ll notice him when he isn’t there.
Socrates: You’ve said something extremely clever. But I have a small reservation. If someone notices that he’s not there, he’s indispensable. Wouldn’t he know that himself?
Fred: Certainly.
Socrates: And if he knows he’s indispensable – have you ever known such a person not to exercise power?
Fred: So it appears.
Socrates: The best club president is the one you notice, but not too much?
Fred: That’s it.
Socrates: Maybe the head of the sports committee is more important than the club president?
Fred: Yes, and the head of the entertainment committee.
Socrates: Why that person?
Fred: Because it’s a pleasure to be in a club.
Socrates: That’s certainly correct. But, tell me, what’s the right kind of pleasure in a club? In most people’s eyes won’t the best club be the one with the prettiest girls, and where the best dancing and drinks are before and after the tournament? And don’t you think the best way to prepare for a tournament is to celebrate the night before?
Fred: Actually no. But sometimes it’s fine. Because, if you lose, there won’t be a celebration, and on top of that, you’ll have an excuse.
Socrates: So the best club is the place where the most things are going on before and after playing?
Fred: Yes. Now you’re speaking from the heart.
Socrates: But didn’t we agree that you go to a tennis club to play tennis?
Fred: Yes, we said that.
Socrates: Someone once told me about a club. I forget where it was. Everything was different. The man told the club: “When I first came here, I saw a person who played very well, but he wasn’t first in the ranking. I asked who that was. Then I was told it was the club pro. I asked who he was playing with. Oh, with someone from the second team. Is that really true? I thought about it. As I kept looking around the club, I thought I was in an upside-down world. When I came in, a half a dozen games were set up to test my ability. The coach would check up on things and would suggest new tennis partners for me. I saw for myself how he led the team in training and how he conducted individual lessons. He watched carefully, gave lessons on strategy, corrected strokes, combined pairs, and he even did that with the second women’s team…”
Fred: (interrupts) That’s incredible! I thought the coach avoided the second team – and even the women’s team – as much as possible.
Socrates: Listen, that’s not all. The man went on to say: “I used to think that junior players had to use old balls, and the senior players got the new balls. Here, on the other hand, the juniors were given a few balls used by the senior players. And for the team training, the club provided the balls. There were always serious playoffs, even among the juniors. If someone played a game, he didn’t bring a hoard of his friends as spectators. He also didn’t try, if it was critical, to irritate his opponent. He also didn’t say that the other paid the wrong amount, or that an out ball was good, and then argue about it. He also didn’t go to the other player’s side to retrieve balls or try to distract the opponent by encouraging spectators to shout or laugh. And if in spite of all that he did not do, he won, what do you think? – then he asked when they should start playing again, and when the opponent was ready, he started again. And then something truly special took place. The 60-year-olds had their own tournament. And they were eager to finish their tournament first. No one dodged. No one got cocky; everyone was always ready to play.
Fred: (interrupts) Is that so? Are old men different from other people?
Socrates: I didn’t think so. I mean, that must have been a group of saints.
And he continued: “There were married couples, not a cross word spoken between them and not just because the woman took all the good shots. And one could see a mother and daughter in women’s doubles, and if they lost, they remained calm, as if they were friends. And the most astonishing was: everyone played a lot of tournaments, and there were always seats available for businessmen on the weekends, and for young students. When you went to the club terrace, there seemed to be no distinct groups at all. Everyone spoke kindly to everyone else, and not just to their faces. And no one used titles in talking to others. Even professors were talked to in honorable tones. There were players who were more like chess masters, who played three-set battles, showing no fatigue: you wouldn’t believe how fast they played, putting their opponent on the defensive so powerfully and deliberately. Even the oldest gentlemen, when they hit the ball well on the court/chessboard, played tennis zealously. Even 75-year-olds! Or am I mistaken? Was it the club that was already 75 years old?
Bruce J. Krajewski
Bruce J. Krajewski is a translator and editor of Salomo Friedlaender'sKant for Children(forthcoming in 2024 from De Gruyter).
