I swam the weekend before last. I know, that's not interesting. My ear started bleeding after I swam. A little more interesting now, eh? Meh. Who cares about bleeding ears.... after I swam and before my ear bled, I found a flyer at the swim club for Pickleball the following Saturday. Sweet! A new sport that is free(ish) to try? Yes please!
I didn't know anything about Pickleball before Saturday. I knew the name sounded funny, but nothing about the sport. I was not aware it was a retiree's sport. The main tennis coach was apparently trying to get Pickleball started at the club, but appeared to have some disdain for the game he was trying to socialize. Later, I learned that he went out on his own to pursue Pickleball knowledge, which made is disdain even more odd and genuinely comical.
There are some people (men) who are a-holes that you hate, and some people (men) that are a-holes that you love. I am not sure where the line is drawn for that, but I do know it's a fine line. The tennis coach was an a-hole that was easy to love. He talked to other adult men as if they were children in almost every verbal transaction. Apparently, this behavior only serves to start an old alpha-dog war over who knows more and who can run Pickleball.
"Are you going to tell us the rules?" A-hole-that-you-probably-would-hate shouted at the coach.
"Look Sheila's husband, I know you're anxious to know the rules, but I am teaching Pickleball strokes right now. If you can just hold your excitement for five minutes, you will not be disappointed," A-hole-that-you-love-responded. This type of verbal volley went on the entire lesson.
Between wise cracks and old man scolding, Tennis Coach explained that Pickleball was a sport with a growing participant base and some seriously involved ambassadors. He loved the ambassador deal. He referenced the ambassador quite a bit, and with equal parts disdain and pride, he explained he learned whatever tidbit when "I spent the day with the ambassador."
Another older guy there brought his own rackets, so presumably he played Pickleball. I am not sure if he couldn't hear or didn't know... but I don't think he really played at all. Maybe the rackets were brought to impress the ladies?
Rick, the old guy, told tennis coach he did indeed know how to play, then he wandered over to the bench and talked up some Pickleball honeys. He was in mid-pick up, when Tennis Coach said "We'll check with Rick. Rick is that right?" No answer. Rick? No Answer. "Rick, can you pay attention?"
Rick finally turned around, but didn't answer. I'm not sure why, because he had a lot to say about how we should run our new Pickleball team at a later point. Meanwhile rules guy nagged out a ton superfluous questions. When I thought it couldn't get better, another guy came out of nowhere and walked to the courts with a bucket of rackets. He also was sporting some serious workout gear with an equally serious backpack. He explained that he was sent by the ambassador. He was serious. This was a serious thing. He had to be sure it was taught correctly. Tennis Coach clearly had no idea that the Ambassador's Court Magistrate had been assigned oversight duty at the club.
Tennis coach was sweating at this point, trying desperately to maintain control of these rowdy Pickleball men. A lovely 80+ year old woman leaned over to me and said "I could watch this show all day." Oh man... even if Pickleball sucked, it was worth the morning drive just to hear these guys squabble. They all wanted to be in charge, and it just wasn't working.
Fortunately, we got through the rules, and I got to play doubles, then a bit of singles, with my new favorite (and only) Pickleball friend. He was mid 50's tennis player who wasn't too sure about Pickleball, but tried it anyway. I thought we had a good time. I felt his disdain for the sport. I didn't really care.
Wondering what Pickleball is? Here's a rundown....
"I love tennis, but I SUPER love Pickleball." Yes..... I totally agree with her. I see that it's a retiree sport, and I don't care. I am ADDICTED! I figure if I play for 25 years, I can hustle pickleball at the senior center. I'm serious about this retirement plan. This game is the shizz-nit. Seniors got it right. I can only hope that I can play Pickleball in my retirement for four hours a day.
They are absolutely correct that it is low impact and easy on the joints. I have a fake elbow holding together my dominant arm, and I absolutely cannot play tennis. My arm aches afterwards. My arm aches after lifting weights, driving for more than three hours, or even some days just typing. It didn't hurt one bit after Pickleball. I get tennis back without the tennis elbow.
(This is a side note for Yoga, but it doesn't hurt when I do yoga either. Yay, yoga!)
Despite the comical beginnings, Pickleball was a success for Tennis Coach. We're now going to have pick up Pickleball games at 9 am on Saturdays. Let me know if you'd like to join me. I'll be there with my old band of PB misfits. I could use someone my age. If you don't want to hang out and pickle some balls with me, I'll be there anyway. There's no shame in my Pickleball game!
I didn't know anything about Pickleball before Saturday. I knew the name sounded funny, but nothing about the sport. I was not aware it was a retiree's sport. The main tennis coach was apparently trying to get Pickleball started at the club, but appeared to have some disdain for the game he was trying to socialize. Later, I learned that he went out on his own to pursue Pickleball knowledge, which made is disdain even more odd and genuinely comical.
There are some people (men) who are a-holes that you hate, and some people (men) that are a-holes that you love. I am not sure where the line is drawn for that, but I do know it's a fine line. The tennis coach was an a-hole that was easy to love. He talked to other adult men as if they were children in almost every verbal transaction. Apparently, this behavior only serves to start an old alpha-dog war over who knows more and who can run Pickleball.
"Are you going to tell us the rules?" A-hole-that-you-probably-would-hate shouted at the coach.
"Look Sheila's husband, I know you're anxious to know the rules, but I am teaching Pickleball strokes right now. If you can just hold your excitement for five minutes, you will not be disappointed," A-hole-that-you-love-responded. This type of verbal volley went on the entire lesson.
Between wise cracks and old man scolding, Tennis Coach explained that Pickleball was a sport with a growing participant base and some seriously involved ambassadors. He loved the ambassador deal. He referenced the ambassador quite a bit, and with equal parts disdain and pride, he explained he learned whatever tidbit when "I spent the day with the ambassador."
Another older guy there brought his own rackets, so presumably he played Pickleball. I am not sure if he couldn't hear or didn't know... but I don't think he really played at all. Maybe the rackets were brought to impress the ladies?
Rick, the old guy, told tennis coach he did indeed know how to play, then he wandered over to the bench and talked up some Pickleball honeys. He was in mid-pick up, when Tennis Coach said "We'll check with Rick. Rick is that right?" No answer. Rick? No Answer. "Rick, can you pay attention?"
Rick finally turned around, but didn't answer. I'm not sure why, because he had a lot to say about how we should run our new Pickleball team at a later point. Meanwhile rules guy nagged out a ton superfluous questions. When I thought it couldn't get better, another guy came out of nowhere and walked to the courts with a bucket of rackets. He also was sporting some serious workout gear with an equally serious backpack. He explained that he was sent by the ambassador. He was serious. This was a serious thing. He had to be sure it was taught correctly. Tennis Coach clearly had no idea that the Ambassador's Court Magistrate had been assigned oversight duty at the club.
Tennis coach was sweating at this point, trying desperately to maintain control of these rowdy Pickleball men. A lovely 80+ year old woman leaned over to me and said "I could watch this show all day." Oh man... even if Pickleball sucked, it was worth the morning drive just to hear these guys squabble. They all wanted to be in charge, and it just wasn't working.
Fortunately, we got through the rules, and I got to play doubles, then a bit of singles, with my new favorite (and only) Pickleball friend. He was mid 50's tennis player who wasn't too sure about Pickleball, but tried it anyway. I thought we had a good time. I felt his disdain for the sport. I didn't really care.
Wondering what Pickleball is? Here's a rundown....
"I love tennis, but I SUPER love Pickleball." Yes..... I totally agree with her. I see that it's a retiree sport, and I don't care. I am ADDICTED! I figure if I play for 25 years, I can hustle pickleball at the senior center. I'm serious about this retirement plan. This game is the shizz-nit. Seniors got it right. I can only hope that I can play Pickleball in my retirement for four hours a day.
They are absolutely correct that it is low impact and easy on the joints. I have a fake elbow holding together my dominant arm, and I absolutely cannot play tennis. My arm aches afterwards. My arm aches after lifting weights, driving for more than three hours, or even some days just typing. It didn't hurt one bit after Pickleball. I get tennis back without the tennis elbow.
(This is a side note for Yoga, but it doesn't hurt when I do yoga either. Yay, yoga!)
Despite the comical beginnings, Pickleball was a success for Tennis Coach. We're now going to have pick up Pickleball games at 9 am on Saturdays. Let me know if you'd like to join me. I'll be there with my old band of PB misfits. I could use someone my age. If you don't want to hang out and pickle some balls with me, I'll be there anyway. There's no shame in my Pickleball game!
Too funny! I can't believe it's been around for 40 years and I've never heard of it. Ahem, not that I'm a big sports person or anything.
ReplyDelete