This weekend’s “Unplugged” posts revolve around a strange category of on-court communication that initially sounds dishonest. However, I have come to believe that there are a number of “little white lies” that are an essential part of playing doubles. Specifically, this weekend we will be examining a few things I frequently find myself saying to my doubles partners that may not always be strictly true.
Tennis is a sport that is full of small acts of emotional management. That concept is especially important when playing doubles, due to the complex interpersonal dynamics. Playing doubles requires emotional regulation from both players. That means strategic vocalizing interpretations of events can be a smart way to keep both members of a doubles team focused on the moment.
A terrific example of this is what I find myself increasingly saying after a tight line call on my partner’s serve. If my partner hits a close serve that gets called out, I almost always say something like, “Just barely out” to them. It has become such a reflexive practice that the timing is often preemptive, before frustration can be expressed or set in.
The truth is, it does not matter whether I think the ball was barely out or not. Rather, it is a moment when emotional regulation is much more important than factual precision. Voicing doubt about any of our opponent’s line calls to my partner might lead us both to start focusing on that, which is something we can neither change nor control. That might put one or both of us into a state of agitation that isn’t conducive to our best level of performance.
Additionally, what matters in the moment is allowing just a little more margin, whether the ball was in or out. The “Just barely out” statement reinforces that my partner’s serve is not “way off” but rather right on the cusp of excellence. While expressing disagreement with the call might spark a fixation on line calls, expressing confidence in a close miss could head off mechanical overcorrection or tentative play. A “close miss” allows my partner to keep swinging freely while mentally categorizing the error as fundamentally acceptable.
In other words, the highest priority in doubles is to stabilize yourself and your partner emotionally before frustration starts affecting subsequent points. Doubles magnify the emotional dynamics because emotional states are shared experiences. If one person starts to spiral, the effects rarely stay isolated. When playing doubles, each player is responsible not only for managing their own emotional state but also for doing everything they can to support their partner.
Once I became sensitized to this reality, I started realizing that a lot of the double’s communication common phrases may frequently prioritize emotional regulation. “Good miss.” “Right idea.” “No worries.” “Keep going after it.” Such statements are often less about objective analysis than about reassurance. In many cases, the partnership benefits more from confidence preservation than from immediate tactical accuracy.
That does not mean reality is irrelevant. Sometimes our opponent’s line calls demand that we express displeasure. Some situations require blunt tactical honesty. Strong partnerships eventually develop a feel for what type of communication helps each person compete effectively. However, in the heat of the moment, good doubles players frequently gravitate toward statements that support emotional stability.
The fascinating part is that I think that the evolution of these “little white lies” has developed instinctively. While I try to intentionally design the emotional narratives I tell myself during matches, that doesn’t always align with my outward self-talk. I sincerely feel that most of the points I lose in doubles are my fault. While I have always been much better at using supporting language with my partner, until recently, I hadn’t stopped to consider the strategic benefit of that beyond just trying to be a nice person.
For the record, sometimes the serve that I tagged as “Just barely out” probably caught the line. However, that is not the most important thing at the moment. The more I play doubles, the more sensitized I become to the fact that competitive tennis depends not only on the stories we tell ourselves, but also those told to our partners. And sometimes those stories are little white lies.