The Dangerous
Doubles Syndrome

Joel Drucker


Could doubles be suffocating your development?

I have a belief that could strike at the core of recreational tennis. I believe that strictly playing doubles, recreational players might be suffocating themselves into mediocrity. Here are three examples that bring that point to life.

A player I'll call Roger wants to learn how to hit a topspin backhand. Roger is an NTRP 3.5 who only plays doubles. In the last couple of years, he has had a lot of success in league tennis. Roger often competes on several teams at once, from men's to mixed.

Over the course of a season, Roger could well end up playing 30 matches. Since Roger's men's team made it to the sectionals, there's a good chance he'll be bumped up to 4.0.

Alleged Quest for Topspin

Roger's best shot is his crosscourt forehand, which means he just about always plays the deuce court. The upshot is that Roger rarely has an opportunity to hit a topspin backhand in any kind of competitive situation.

Does a good crosscourt forehand keep you in the deuce court?

More than 90 percent of the serves that come his way go wide to Roger's forehand. Should he have to hit a backhand, Roger either pokes an inside-out chip or throws up a lob.

No way would he want to undermine his team and try a difficult inside-out drive or a low percentage, down-the-alley backhand. And he's had too much success in the deuce court to ever risk receiving in the ad court, a spot where might well have the chance to attempt that topspin backhand.

Mythical Serve and Volley

Then there's Suzy, a 4.0, who in lessons works on serving and volleying. Suzy's instructor has told her that adding serve-volley to her game could greatly enhance the possibility of her becoming a 4.5.

But just like Roger with his topspin backhand, Suzy won't trot out this tactic in league matches, lest she lose one point after another and jeopardize her team's chances of winning.

Have you worked on serve and volley—just never used it in a match?

Then again, Suzy's one of the better 4.0s and knows that if she became a 4.5 she'd hardly get a chance to play many league matches. So she might well be happier staying a frequently triumphant 4.0 than an entry level 4.5.

Love of the Ad Court

Finally, there's Henry, who doesn't play league tennis but says that singles is “too competitive" and that he likes how much more social doubles is. But Henry's also admitted he's been starting to get bored on the court.

A friend who doesn't play much with Henry recently said to him, “Of course you're bored. All you do is play the ad court with the same five people. Tell you what: We'll play a match and you can return every point from the deuce court."

At which point Henry waved his hands to decline, saying that he didn't play the deuce court very well at all and would therefore hate to let down his partner. Well, so much for seeking a refuge from competition.

What if you developed your game by playing the deuce court instead of just the ad?

Roger, Suzy and Henry are all victims of what I call The Dangerous Doubles Syndrome. Strictly playing doubles poses a hazard for your tennis health.

For starters, it is far less of a physical workout, a player often far more drained after even 45 minutes of singles compared to three sets of doubles. Even more than the physical aspect is the way doubles shackles skills development.

Heightened by the exceptional popularity of league tennis, doubles drastically reduces a player's willingness to invest and experiment with new techniques and tactics. To be sure, one benefit of league play is that it teaches a player how to compete. As Roger wins more, his rating will go up and he will naturally feel he is improving.

But other than learning how to win – certainly a vital skill – what else is Roger improving? In two sets of doubles, Roger might never have more than three or four chances to hit that topspin backhand; and it's doubtful he'll hit more than, say, two of them in a particular rally.

Short points can be dramatic—but not much exercise.

On the other hand, if Roger played a singles match, in one service game alone he might be able to hit six, eight, ten or more topspin backhands. Ditto for Suzy and her quest to learn how to serve and volley.

In doubles, she's worried about repeated failure and its impact on the team. In singles, Suzy could afford to make a repeated investment in this tactic, as only she alone would suffer the consequences. Then again, tennis is filled with people who don't even want to experiment in practice singles matches.

All this leads me to often think that many of my fellow recreational players who only play doubles are deluding themselves into thinking they are dynamic, fast track, improving tennis players when in fact they hardly run, strike a small range of shots, do little to build their skills and frequently get by with limited techniques merely to earn another victory.

Let's also add to that what I'll dub the “Doubles BS Artist" who is a master at always playing with a better partner and can therefore either sustain a certain NTRP rating or even rise up the ranks without necessarily improving any technical or tactical skill.

In singles a player actually has the chance to get topspin backhand repetitions.

This borders on pitiful. Tennis has a wide spectrum of possibilities – spin, power, placement, as well as strategies, tactics, emotions, movement. But let's consider Suzy. So long as she only plays doubles, how is she really going to gain any mastery of the serve-volley technique and tactic?

When can she plausibly trot out that kick serve she'd like to master? Even if Suzy's rating rises due to team results, her higher rating will be but a false front for a lack of skill. And let's also take into account that Roger, Suzy and Henry aren't getting that much exercise either.

Why do so many recreational players favor doubles? The physical ease is obvious.

Certainly, it is more social. Even in competition, responsibility is shared, so it's also far less emotionally taxing. In other words, it's easier in every possible way.

What if you played serve and volley in doubles and cost your team points?

And given that tennis is a leisure activity, why not take the easy route amid demands from work and family? This is what Henry has done, even to the point of declining to play league tennis (bless his mellow heart, but I think Henry is actually too competitive for his own good).

Yet also note this: Henry is bored. Of course he's bored; he's not building skills, but instead merely treading water.

And both Suzy and Roger have often said how they'd like to compete with better players. In other words, within many a tennis player is the desire to improve and broaden the array of skills.

It's well-documented, though, that to improve you need to hit lots and lots of balls. How can Roger learn the topspin backhand if he only hits three a set?

The pursuit of improvement is a process-oriented approach. Sadly, doubles is far too much about outcome. Even when it comes to doubles, the vast majority of players will play practice sets rather than embark on a drill.

Doubles is outcome, not process driven.

Henry, Suzy and Roger have boxed themselves in and could well be permanently scarred. Suzy and Roger in particular seek better outcomes, but because they never play singles, they have precluded themselves from making the kind of long-term and sustainable investment in the very techniques and tactics that might take them further.

Players who rise up the NTRP ranks only by playing doubles are akin to students who boost their grades only by working on group projects. Every parent, student and teacher knows that the best learning comes when you did it yourself.

And so, my message to ambitious players is that they should play more singles. Let yourself run more. Let yourself experiment with new tactics and techniques. The alternative is stagnation.


Joel Drucker is one of the world’s best known tennis writers, having written for years for Tennis and many other publications. He is a consultant and background researcher working with some of the top commentators for the Tennis Channel. Joel is also the author of the book "Jimmy Connors Saved My Life." He lives in Oakland, California and plays regularly at the Berkeley Tennis Club.


"Jimmy Connors Saved My Life"

"Jimmy Connors Saved My Life" is a unique account of the career of the legendary American champion, James Scott Connors, and how it intertwined with the life of the author in a relationship both real and imagined. The book combines the perspective of an intellectual, a devoted tennis player, a professional writer, and a student of society searching for meaning and identity in a defining period of American history, a period in which tennis became a big time, big money, and big media sport.

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