Before today, Michel had not truly understood what Old Wa meant by those words.
In this era where double-sided inverted-rubber looping dominated the entire world, he did not understand why he should switch to short pips, which would clearly reduce spin and the power of his shots.
But after playing Wang Chao today, he truly realized his own shortcomings.
Wang Chao had kept attacking his forehand, forcing him to loop, then began switching him between forehand and backhand during rallies. Under such simple and brutal pressure, Michel found that he simply could not hold up.
Many times, he no longer wanted to loop from the forehand. He felt that at such moments, a chop, a push, or even a light short ball might be enough to break Wang Chao's relentless rhythm.
But he simply could not do it. He lacked that kind of delicate touch, while the forehand side of his racket was too sensitive to spin. It left him unable to perfectly neutralize all the forces his opponent put on the ball through purely defensive returns.
He truly envied people like Sun Tianlong. No matter how difficult or heavily spun the ball, Sun Tianlong always seemed able to casually extend his racket forward and produce a flawless short ball.
That ultimate touch required one's hand, racket, and rubber to become one, as easy to control as one's own arm. Michel did not possess such a thing.
His backhand was actually far more dangerous than his forehand, yet after four games against Wang Chao, after so many attacking exchanges and rallies, he had been completely unable to bring out his backhand advantage.
Only because his forehand had been thoroughly suppressed.
All the problems lay in his forehand.
The root of everything lay in his forehand.
What Old Wa had said