7th Grade
I’ve been playing pickleball since June of last year. It is the first team sport that I can honestly say that I enjoy. For anyone not familiar, it’s similar to tennis with a racket that reminds me of an over-sized ping-pong paddle and you typically play with 2-person teams.
When I started, it was typically with a group of 8 to 10 people. If I had to guess, I’d say all of us are over 40 years old, maybe even over 50. I’ll usually play 4 to 5 games over about 90 minutes to two hours. It’s a good work-out with a much-desired social component – something I realize is essential for me to habitually exercise.
I am not very athletic, never have been. My racket/eye coordination is pretty poor, thanks to a lazy right eye and a history of avoiding physical activity in general and team sports, specifically. But, finally, in adulthood (probably since my 30s), I’m okay with that. And it hasn’t been a problem with the othe players. Everyone’s been patient and kind, and I do my best to improve or at least not lose too many points for my team.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve had an influx of players joining our group. I’ve noticed that the tenor of players’ attitudes has been shifting slightly, to what I would call a more competitive one. It made me concerned but I continued to play each week, but like an alerted dog, my shackles were up!
Then, today, something happened that teleported me back to 7th grade faster than Hanna-Barbara could send George Jetson back in time. In an instant, I was reliving the kid who was picked last or not at all. Or worse yet, when I was “forced” on a team. With all of the people playing and a limited number of courts, we have a queue where rackets are placed on the table and each time a game finishes and a court opens up, the next four players play on that court. I had just finished a game a few minutes earlier, and my playing was, well, typical. It came time for us to play again, and two of the players opted to wait it out – meaning, they were waiting for other players, meaning they didn’t want to play with me.
Now, let me say, I get it. A poor player makes it less fun for the more skilled player. And, now I will say this – if you’re that good, go play on a league, or better yet, teach me how to improve! (Yes, I have a small axe to grind about this stuff!)
So, I sat down for a few minutes, quietly put myself back in the queue and waiting for my turn to come up. It did, but it would have been with one of the players who “opted out” of playing with me. So, I picked up my racket and started to put it away. One of the other players, not the “opted out” player, asked me if I was playing. I hesitated a moment, looked at the “opted out” player and said, “Okay!” I wound up on the same team as the “opted out” player. “Great!”… not!
We started to play, but I was so flustered having to play with this person. I’m there for exercise, fun and socializing – this game was going to be none of those. I was a ball of nerves – missing shots and forgetting the rules. Fortunately, the “opted out” player was there to remind me of them! To be fair, they did it politely! But, still… Ugh! Then, something happened. I didn’t stay the 7th grade child. I started returning serves, even making a few points. And, the best part, I didn’t lose as many points as I had in earlier games. In fact, the “opted out” player lost more game points in this game than I did. We did not win the game, but the score was 11-8, which is a very respectable score.
What’s the morale of this story? As a child, others may hold us back; as an adult, we’re the only one that hold ourselves back! I didn’t like 7th grade the first time, and I wasn’t about to repeat it!