A Ratings Appeal and an Identity Crisis

Once upon a time, I viewed myself as the type of person who would always accept my assigned NTRP rating without question or complaint. It turns out that isn’t who I am. Last week, I successfully appealed my NTRP rating down from 5.0 to 4.5. Taking that action is incongruent with my values and beliefs about what is best for the competitive tennis ecosystem. Eventually, I realized I would be an idiot if I didn’t appeal my rating this year. As it turns out, not being stupid is also an integral part of my self-image. Even so, it was not a decision I made lightly, and it took almost a week to pull the trigger, even once I knew I was going to do it. I probably wouldn’t have acted that quickly without imminent tournament and league registration deadlines.

The USTA app has a button that automatically processes player appeals. The behind-the-scenes magic that makes that possible is because NTRP ratings are a mathematical calculation with a statistical margin of error. The USTA’s policy is to automatically approve appeal requests for any players who fall within that range. When an appeal is granted, it is an indication that the player’s rating was within the margin of error when the computer rating was assigned. It is a static predetermined outcome rather than something that is dynamically calculated when the appeal button is activated.

I am not one of those players who inspired the “Twas the Night Before Ratings” parody. In other words, I never stay up late the night the USTA releases new ratings levels. Typically, I find out where I wind up each year via text messages queued up by my phone overnight while in “do not disturb” mode. In the years I have stayed at 4.5, many captains have been inspired to immediately text me their team numbers with reminders of registration deadlines. Being promoted to 5.0 is a different experience. I typically receive commiseration from other players who suffered the same fate and maybe lamentations from a doubles partner who will miss me.

The simple fact of the matter is that playing opportunities are sharply different at 5.0 than they are at 4.5. I recognize that I am extremely lucky to live in an area where 5.0 tennis is even a possibility. The last time I was elevated, I had to work a little harder to find USTA League matches, but at least the opportunity was there. After my promotion this year, my assessment of the playing landscape was that a player like me would find very limited chances to play. I do not believe that I would have been able to get more than a couple of NTRP-rated matches at 5.0 next year.

When deciding whether or not to appeal my rating this year, I initially struggled with a fundamental belief that my current promotion was not the result of legitimate high performance. Though my irritation over that situation remains intact, it ultimately was not the primary factor that drove the decision. I pressed the appeal button to preserve my opportunities to play rather than out of any sense of injustice.

I fundamentally think that is a selfish decision.

If everybody who reaches the highest practical tier of NTRP competition automatically appeals their rating, that diminishes the playing population. That, in turn, also decreases the total opportunity for other players to compete at their appropriate level. That creates a further incentive for players to manage their ratings. The competitive tennis ecosystem suffers as a consequence. It is an insidious self-reinforcing cycle.

Tomorrow’s post will explore the indignity of playing under the “A” appeal rating in the coming year. On Sunday, I will discuss how a participation cliff at the upper echelons incentivizes players like me to act in their own self-interest rather than doing what is good for competitive tennis.

In the meantime, my identity crisis is real.