Imagine standing across the net from Jimmy Connors in the 1970s. Before you’ve settled into a rally, he’s already taken your serve early, slapped the ball back deep, and charged into the next shot with the kind of determination that makes the baseline feel about three feet closer. Connors didn’t just hit groundstrokes. He used them to take time away from you—and he did it with a two-handed backhand that helped change what men’s tennis looked like.
His influence wasn’t that he invented the two-handed backhand, or that every player after him copied his exact swing. It was bigger and more practical than that: Connors showed how an aggressive baseline game could win the biggest titles, and how a two-handed backhand could be a weapon for attack, not merely a safe way to keep the ball in play.
The old baseline was changing
When Connors rose to the top, men’s tennis was still strongly associated with serve-and-volley play. On grass especially, a good serve followed by a rush to the net was a familiar route to success. Baseline players certainly existed, but Connors made it hard to treat the back of the court as a place to wait patiently for an opening.
He met the ball early, drove it firmly, and looked to dictate the next exchange. His style was not “stand back and rally until the other guy misses.” It was closer to: “I’m taking this ball now, and you’re going to have to respond under pressure.” That distinction matters. Connors was a baseline attacker, not a passive retriever.
His two-handed backhand fitted that plan beautifully. It gave him a compact, stable swing that worked well when he had little time. He could take a ball on the rise, send it crosscourt with depth, or redirect it down the line. Opponents had to respect both directions, and they often had to do it while still recovering from the previous shot.
Why Connors’s backhand was different
The two-handed backhand was not a Connors invention. Players had used two hands long before his career, and other champions helped make the shot more common. Connors’s contribution was to make it look relentlessly purposeful in men’s tennis. He didn’t use two hands simply to steady the racket or survive a hard hit. He used the stroke to take control of rallies.
That extra support from the second hand can help a player manage pace and keep the racket face stable, particularly on a return or a fast ball aimed at the body. Connors took advantage of those qualities. His backhand was short and direct compared with the large, looping groundstrokes familiar from many modern rallies. The ball came through low and hard, giving an opponent less time to set up.
He also used the stroke to change the geometry of a point. A firm crosscourt backhand could push an opponent wide; then Connors could drive the next ball into the space that had opened. Or he could surprise the other player by redirecting down the line. The threat of that change made it risky to lean too far toward one side of the court.
There was a trade-off. A two-handed backhand can offer less reach than a one-handed stroke, especially on a ball stretching far away from the body. Connors compensated with anticipation, quick footwork, and early contact. He worked to meet the ball before it climbed too high, rather than letting it push him deep and dictate the rally. The technique and the tactics were joined at the hip.
Taking time away, one shot at a time
“Aggressive” can sound like it means hitting as hard as possible. Connors’s real aggression was often about timing and position. By taking the ball early, he reduced the opponent’s recovery window. By aiming deep, he limited the chance of a short reply. And by stepping forward when he saw an opening, he made the next shot feel even more urgent.
His return of serve was central to this approach. Connors was not famous for overpowering opponents with a huge serve of his own; he built pressure by making their serves start a rally instead of end one. He could take a return early and send it back with enough pace and depth to stop the server from comfortably moving forward. A serve-and-volley player who expected a simple first volley might instead find himself defending immediately.
That pressure carried into the rest of the point. Connors hit hard, but he also understood that a deep ball to the middle can be useful: it gives an opponent fewer sharp angles and buys the hitter time to recover. From there, he could look for a shorter reply and attack the open court. The goal wasn’t to paint a winner on every swing. It was to keep the other player from taking charge.
And Connors could finish at net when the point called for it. His identity was built from the baseline, but he wasn’t trapped there. A short ball was an invitation to move in, not a command to hit one more groundstroke. That ability helped him adapt across surfaces, including grass, where players still needed to make the most of forward movement.
What the record says—and what it doesn’t
Connors’s results give his style some essential context. According to ATP career records, he finished with 109 tour-level singles titles, the men’s Open Era record, and eight major singles titles. He reached world No. 1 and held the ranking for 268 weeks in total. Those numbers don’t prove that a two-handed backhand alone caused his success; they do show that his way of building points could thrive at the very top for an extraordinary length of time.
| Milestone | Connors’s record | Why it matters here |
|---|---|---|
| ATP-recognized singles titles | 109 | His attacking baseline game delivered sustained results, not just a brief peak. |
| Major singles titles | 8 | He won on hard courts, grass, and at the Australian Open on grass. |
| US Open singles titles | 5 | His best major haul came at a tournament that suited his hard, early-taking style. |
| Weeks ranked world No. 1 | 268 | His success lasted across different seasons and changing competition. |
Connors won the Australian Open, Wimbledon, and the US Open in 1974, then went on to win Wimbledon again in 1982. His five US Open titles came in 1974, 1976, 1978, 1982, and 1983. Those wins matter to the style story: he was not relying on one surface or one kind of rally to make his game work. His hard, flat ball could be especially imposing on quicker courts, but he had enough touch, movement, and court sense to succeed on grass too.
For historical perspective, it’s worth keeping the equipment and playing conditions in view. Connors became closely associated with the Wilson T-2000, a steel racket with a very different feel and construction from today’s large-headed graphite frames. Modern rackets, strings, and court conditions affect how easily players generate pace and spin. So it’s misleading to compare the look of his shots directly with a current player’s and pretend the tools are identical. The important point is the tactical idea: take time away, hit through the court, and make the opponent defend.
How his example changed the men’s game
Connors helped make the aggressive baseliner a central model of success. He showed that you didn’t need to treat the net as the only place to take over a point. A player could pressure an opponent from the back of the court, use groundstrokes to create a weak reply, and choose the right moment to come forward.
That didn’t make serve-and-volley tennis disappear. The game changed through many players, surfaces, rackets, and tactical ideas—not because one champion flipped a switch. But Connors was a vivid demonstration that hard, early baseline hitting could challenge the established patterns. Later stars developed very different versions of baseline aggression: some relied on heavy topspin and court coverage, while others took the ball early and redirected it. Connors’s game wasn’t a blueprint for all of them, but it helped make the baseline a place to attack from.
His backhand also helped shift expectations. A two-hander could be a dependable return shot and a rally weapon at the same time. Coaches and players could see its value in handling pace, changing direction, and producing a compact swing under pressure. The stroke’s growth in men’s tennis has many influences, but Connors made its attacking possibilities impossible to ignore.
His style also had a psychological edge. Connors played with visible intensity, and his opponents knew that a slight opening might be punished immediately. There was no comfortable pause after a decent serve or a solid groundstroke. The ball came back with purpose. That constant demand can wear on a player even when the scoreboard is close: each shot asks for another quick recovery, another clean contact, another decision made under pressure.
Frequently Asked Questions
Did Jimmy Connors invent the two-handed backhand?
No. Two-handed backhands existed before Connors. His importance was in making the shot a prominent attacking weapon in men’s tennis and showing how effectively it could be used to take the ball early and control direction.
Was Connors a baseliner who never came to the net?
No. His strongest identity was as an aggressive baseline player, but he moved forward to finish points when the opening was there. His game was about taking control, not following a rule that he had to stay behind the baseline.
What made Connors’s backhand so difficult to face?
Its compact preparation, early contact, and ability to send the ball firmly in different directions put opponents under time pressure. He could use it to push a player wide or redirect down the line, making it harder to predict the next shot.
How many major singles titles did Connors win?
He won eight: five US Open titles, two Wimbledon titles, and one Australian Open title. He won the Australian Open in 1974, when the event was played on grass.
Final Thoughts
Jimmy Connors reshaped men’s tennis less by offering a single technique to copy than by changing what players believed they could do from the baseline. His two-handed backhand was compact, firm, and built for pressure. His early timing turned ordinary exchanges into rushed ones. And his results showed that relentless groundstroke aggression could win majors and sustain a career at the top.
Watch a Connors rally and the lesson still feels sharp: don’t give the other player extra time if you can take it away. His game was loud, direct, and fiercely competitive—but underneath all that fire was a clear tactical plan. Get to the ball early, make the opponent defend, and keep asking the next question.
