When you spend as much time as I do thinking about rules, process, and how things are supposed to work, it becomes difficult not to notice when something looks even slightly off. That happened to me last weekend at the HTA/RBC Wealth Management Houston Open Level 4 tournament.
I was watching a match when a player on an adjacent court did something that caught my eye. Specifically, he adjusted the net height when his opponent had briefly stepped away, presumably for a bathroom break. What caught my attention was not only that he did it, but also how he did it. There was no tape measure involved. Instead, he used his racquet as a reference point, the informal “this looks about right” method that most of us have probably seen used in casual settings. In a recreational match, that’s probably close enough. In an officiated tournament environment, it stood out immediately.
I am particularly sensitive to net height. My shots have lower net clearance than most players, a style that Robert Lansdorp, the coach featured in yesterday’s book review, would probably endorse. That means even a small change in net height is not trivial. If my opponent raised the net even a fraction of an inch, I would want to know. It is one of those details that can subtly influence outcomes without ever being explicitly noticed.
A few things ran through my mind in quick succession as I saw the player make that adjustment. This was the first match of the day on that court, so I assumed the roving officials had already verified the net height as part of their daily preparation. Additionally, I was extremely uncomfortable with the measurement method. “Eyeballing it” with a racquet is not a precise standard. More importantly, I would never adjust the net in an officiated match without the official’s involvement. Additionally, if I were the player who had stepped away, I would absolutely want to know that the net height had been changed in my absence, even if the modification ultimately proved correct.
I went to find an official, and her response was perfect. Without even a hint of confrontation or drama, she walked onto the court at the next break of play with a tape measure, checked the net height, and confirmed that it was exactly where it was supposed to be. That means that it was indeed wrong when the player made the adjustment.
The match continued as if nothing had happened, because indeed, nothing did. However, moments like that are a reminder that fairness in competition depends on small acts of attention, even when the outcome ultimately changes nothing.
In the end, nothing about the match was affected. The net was corrected, the official handled it cleanly, and play moved on. However, it was a subtle reminder that even small deviations matter, not because they always change the outcome, but because the integrity of the system depends on precision and equity.
This echoes a simple principle from my day job. Trust, but verify.
