Now in any game, when you have to meet a definite attack of an opponent--this necessity does not apply to a game like golf, or croquet, or billiards, since in such games you have to do the best you can yourself, without fear of active opposition--there is a golden rule, which has never been enough insisted on, and it is the rule that lies at the base of all we have said about training generally, as applied to games. Practice is at the root of it, and the object is to get so familiar with the stroke dictated by the exigencies of the moment, that it is practically automatic.[15] That is to say, as soon as the attack (your opponent’s return, or the bowler’s ball) is coming, you will, with the least possible expenditure of energy, recognise it, get into the position to meet it, and have the stroke ready. For instance, if the game is lawn-tennis, you will see that a drive into the left-hand corner of the court is probable, and before you have really formulated this to yourself consciously, you should be half-way there, not vaguely, but ready for the attack. Your body should have moved almost automatically, and thus your attention and will-power is reserved for noticing your opponent. He may change his mind at the last second (you can never tell about opponents), and instead of driving into the left-hand corner he may lob gently over the net into the right-hand court. Thus your attention, which would--had you not cultivated a sort of correct automatonism--have been used up in getting into the left-hand corner, will be free to observe his change of tactics, and the result is that you will be far more ready for his new attack than you would have been, if all your attention had been taken up in getting into position yourself. This verbose illustration is necessary to explain a thing that is often overlooked--namely, the necessity of observing your opponent; and the more automatic your own preparations are, and the more instinctively the body works,[16] the more attention you have at your disposal. It follows, as a corollary, that the less trouble you have to take to meet the actual attack, the more you can concentrate your mind on your opponent. The eye should send to the brain the message--“Yorker on the leg stump,” or whatever it may be--and with _the least possible expenditure of force, either of muscle or nerve_, the attack should be met. The more the movements of the body are automatic, the less you will exhaust yourself. This, in a hard-fought game of racquets, for instance, is an incalculable advantage.