By Mark Rearden, West Lake Country Club | March 1, 2019
A number of years ago and quite by chance, mind you, I received the best lesson ever on the art of communication. The most interesting part of this lesson is that it did not occur at a conference or seminar or from one of the country’s top clinicians speaking on how to communicate. It occurred right smack in the middle of a doubles match. Here’s how the story goes.
Bill and I are good friends and doubles partners and we were playing against two guys we wanted to beat very badly. You know the kind of match I am talking about – these guys are going to call everyone in their area code and let them know if they beat us, so we just had to win this match. The first set wasn’t going so well and my partner didn’t seem to be his usual supportive self. I think it is important for you to know that Bill was the stronger partner on our team and had carried us through more than a couple of tough spots. I was not playing up to normal standards and I was beginning to perceive that my partner was a little hacked at my performance, especially in light of how much we wanted to win this match.
Bill had little to say for at least two changeovers. You all know the feeling you have after missing a few easy balls and how the silence grows louder and just seems to speak volumes. I vowed, the next changeover I would break the silence and tell him that I would “get it together” by the next game. What happened next shocked me.
Bill pulled me over to the side of the court away from our opponents and told me that he was feeling quite ill, almost to the point of throwing up. He said that in order for him to get through this match he needed to just concentrate on playing the points and not chat too much. He went on to tell me not to read anything into his body language or silence, especially after I missed a shot. He wasn’t aggravated at all; he was just trying to hang on. Naturally, I suggested we retire and get him off the court before his condition worsened. He wasn’t receptive to that idea at all, since this team rubbed both of us the wrong way, in a big way!
The most immediate result from his revelation was now I had the real story about what was going on in his head, instead of the conversation I had created for him. In an effort to help my partner out all of my concentration was now on the match instead of feeling defensive about how I was playing. The final result was that I played very focused and with no performance anxiety at all. I spent the rest of the match playing with more determination than I might have otherwise. Ultimately, we went on to win the match, but even that was not the victory I enjoyed that day. It is clear how my partner’s keen insight helped us to get over a tough spot in what was to us, a very important match. I think the real lesson learned that day offers more practical applications in life than it does on the tennis court.
The two lessons learned that day are as follows: When my personality shows up differently than what is typical for me, for whatever reason (I’m sick, tired, upset, sad or just plain flat), then I can help my friends, family and co-workers out by letting them know that my change in behavior has nothing to do with them. In so doing, they can go about their day without adding my personality/mood swing to their own list of day-to-day stresses. This approach allows me to handle my problems without worrying them or by allowing them to help if they can. In any event, it puts an end to speculation about what might be going on between my ears.
The second lesson and probably the more valuable one, is that the story I create about what someone else may be thinking is at best speculative and at worst dead wrong. The better approach would be to go directly to the source and find out the real story. Being direct seems to be a better way to help quell mental fires that would eventually burn out of control if left unattended.
My hopes in writing this article are that you will find some value in the lessons I learned from an old friend on the tennis court and that those lessons will impact your life as they have mine. Mark my words.