The Pickleball Community
We landed our rig for a quick week stay at a 55+ community in Tucson and are in awe of all the activities they offer. Diving right in at the crack of 9:30am, we walked to the pickleball court with our $20 paddles and a full water bottle hoping that another couple would take mercy on us and help us improve. Upon arrival there were six courts full of action and another 10 rackets lined up in the cue. Looking around, I couldn’t help but notice the volume of pickleball attire, bags and water bottles. These were serious pickleball enthusiasts. We are beginners with one of us who plays for fun and has a career in racquetball under his belt. The other, who I’m told can be a wee bit more competitive, is absolutely going to keep score, but hasn’t played any sort of organized sport in ages. I can tell you with certainty that my short career in volleyball does not translate well with pickleball.
The minute I stepped on the court, I felt my competitive juices start to flow. I looked across at my husband, sizing him up, and silently communicating that if he destroyed me in pickleball, life would be very cold in the rig. Racquet sports aren’t my thing, never have been, yet there is something alluring about this sport and the people who play it. I was an open book and vowed I would try my best even though I was an apprehensive newbie. Holding my paddle in the ready position, I blinked and realized a 78-year-old woman just smoked me on a serve. Game on.
There is amazingly a lot to learn about pickleball and unfortunately for me, most of it doesn’t correlate with volleyball. First, there is the paddle. You have to hold that thing and swing it making contact with a wiffleball which is a lot smaller than a volleyball. Swing too hard, it sails long. Two soft and you don’t clear the net. Then there is missing it completely, which I did enough to question if I need a stronger prescription. That wiffleball is a tricky little thing. It drops, spins, and sails depending not only on the prowess of the other person’s arm attached to their paddle, but also the wind.
After awhile I was listening to the “thuds” of the paddles. James and my cheapies sounded loud and hollow while the other people’s had more of a “thwack”. We learned that most of the people there had $100-$300 paddles. There are paddles built for speed, control, spins, and power. Some had it all. It just depends on your game. Our paddles just thudded. That was my game. Thud. While James practiced his spins and drops, I was practicing control and patience. Never the less, I did get it over the net frequently and in bounds occasionally too!
The other major difference to volleyball was the movement on the court. My body spent years as a setter “covering” my teammates. I would drop off the net while they went up to hit or block. It was a well-choreographed six-person dance that became muscle memory. On the pickleball court, I felt myself turning my back foot to open up and drop behind my partner…every…single…time they went to hit the ball. I learned that I need to stay at the net with my partner unless we are serving, then we need to stay back for the second shot. So many rules. Of course, I want to run to the front of the court right when the ball is hit by my partner, just like when I would serve in volleyball and hustle up to the net to set the return. I realized I talked a lot on the pickleball court, shocking, and most of it was to myself saying, “stay…stay…stay…good girl.” How weird it is to try and relearn something that is so engrained. Engrained by time and laps around the court and flights of stairs. Engrained by the booming voices of our coaches and pushup punishment. It’s uncomfortable to try and change it and frustrating when I do it wrong. Did I mention that I am competitive. Probably more so regarding myself and my skills than with anyone else in the game. Thankfully, everyone we have played with have been kind and patient teachers.
The teachers we have had are so different than most sports I have played. They genuinely want to share the love of the game with others and help improve skills while standing beside or across the court from you. It is an intimate sport. Just me and my partner/coach and James with his partner/coach. We heard kindness from our impromptu coaches such as, “we were new once too”, “happy to help”, and “great shot”. They were patient when they reminded us for the 100th time what the score was and where to stand. It really boiled down to just the four of us, put together in order of our paddles in a queue, faced off on a small court in hopes of a good game where youth and stamina aren’t strong predictors of success.
Four games later, James and I put our paddles back in our bags, wiped the sweat from our brows, and said goodbye to our new friends. They made sure we knew we were welcome to come back and said they looked forward to seeing us again soon. What a wonderful community of people centered around a fun way to exercise. As we were leaving, we were drawn into a conversation with a woman who happily shared her love of the community and patiently answered our questions about life in Tucson during the summer. She then gently led us to the quilt show in the ballroom and asked about the other activities we were going to participate in… not if, but what. We rattled off a few such as Bingo, dancing, and trivia. And she encouraged us to come back to pickleball in the morning. This is community. It doesn’t have to be this resort community specifically, just this feeling. The feeling that people are waiting for you, wanting you to participate, happy to see you and miss you when you aren’t there. A community that welcomes new people that are trying new things. A place where mistakes are accepted and learning is celebrated. All this from taking a risk and playing a new game. Our travels will have us moving again soon. We are tucking away the importance of community when someday we do land. Until then, who’s up for another game?
