In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community.
My brother called the other day, and his calls usually include a good laugh or two. In this one, he shared the story about he and his very athletic, tennis-playing boys heading to the pickleball courts while they were staying at an AirBNB. I'm going to highlight the racket-playing ability of these boys, as well as John. G. was a D1 tennis player, and J. is one of those natural athletes. John's decent, too. I have no doubt that these three were hitting the ball hard.
The three of them had only two paddles, so they rotated playing singles until a woman approached them, asking to join in for a doubles game. John told the story in a much funnier way, but she kept asking and assuring them enough that they finally agreed. Even though she was older and didn't look too athletic, she was persistent and she had a couple of paddles she was willing to share. Turns out she was a pickleball rockstar, Paired with G., (the D1 tennis player) because John figured she'd be the weak link (she wasn't), John and J. didn't get a single point. "It was a total beatdown," John said.
I had a similar, although much lower level, experience last night. I play PB at an indoor place that has regular open plays. When you go to an open play, they assign you courts based on your level, and levels range within their assignments. The rotations become fairly randomized because they are based on who finishes when. I usually know most of the people, but not last night. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, and a lot of men. In several of my matches last night, I was with three men. The pattern frequently went like this: My partner served, someone hit it back to me (hard), I hit it back, they hit it back to me (harder), I hit it back, someone made a mistake, and we won the point. Or, they served, one of us returned, they hit it hard at me at the net, I volleyed it back. I won most of my matches by a lot because it took them too long to realize that yes, I could handle the hard hits (I actually like them), and I could dish out my own, as well. I could also change up the pace and place the balls where they'd have a tough time getting them back.
I've come to love pickleball because of these sort of happenings. People are surprising on the courts. There's no question that G. and J. could get to be really good if they decided to practice and learn some shots other than hitting harder, but it's a game of strategy. Because of that, harder, flashier hitters don't always win. In fact, they often lose. Isn't there something poetic about that?
