A blind pig sometimes finds a succulant acorn

That line is a folksy proverb with a long, slightly muddy pedigree—and the tennis player was using it very deliberately.

Where it comes from

The saying is a variant of an old English proverb:

“A blind pig may sometimes find an acorn.”

It shows up in English by at least the 17th century. One early printed form appears in Thomas Fuller’s Gnomologia (1732), a famous collection of proverbs. Variants exist across Europe, but the English pig–acorn version stuck particularly well in rural speech.

The core idea is simple:

even someone who lacks skill, vision, or intention can occasionally stumble into success by chance.

Your version — “the blind pig sometimes finds a succulent acorn” — just adds a comic flourish (“succulent”) for emphasis and self-mockery.

How it should be interpreted here

In this tennis context, the seasoned player is downplaying the compliment. He’s saying, in effect:

• That good shot wasn’t proof of consistent skill.

• It was luck, timing, or accident.

• Don’t read too much into it.

But there’s a subtle twist when a seasoned player says it:

• True beginners really do rely on luck.

• Experienced players often pretend they do, as a form of humility—or wry irony.

So it can carry one of two tones (sometimes both at once):

1. Self-deprecating humility

   
   

   “I’m not as good as that shot made me look.”

2. Dry, knowing irony

   
   

   “I know how this looks—but I also know how rare that particular perfection is.”

In tennis culture especially, this kind of line signals:

“I respect the game enough not to brag about a single clean strike.”

Bottom line

He wasn’t rejecting the compliment so much as deflecting it gracefully, using an old rural proverb to say:

“Even on an off day, something beautiful can happen—but don’t crown me for it.”

If you want, I can also unpack why tennis players, more than most athletes, reach for this kind of language—it’s tied to how brutally the sport exposes inconsistency. 🎾