Plink…ker-plink…plink…pop! The sound of the hefty yellow plastic ball with holes striking the solid rectangular paddles delighted me. On the small court with three other hearty New England players braving the winter elements, we all loved the sound, the game, and how much better we felt after playing. Not even the cold prevented us from joining the camaraderie of this sport. In my retirement world, especially during the Covid pandemic, Pickleball has been a lifesaver.
As I stood planted with feet apart, paddle held midline at my chest, anticipating the ball’s return, I was completely focused. No thoughts of grief over my wife’s death from cancer, no concern about my pandemic future, and even no ruminating over a grocery list could interfere with playing the game. All that mattered in that moment was striking the ball soundly and accurately over the low net in order to score a point. I loved the competition and the fact that my arthritic joints could withstand my movements on the small court. The game was challenging, yet achievable, and a diversion from life’s troubles.
Not everyone on the court were retirees reclaiming their love for competitive sport, however. Players of all ages, shapes, sizes and athletic ability joined ranks with the same focus and social friendliness. Even my short stature and seventy-two years were not deterrents to winning. Every time I placed a shot out of my young opponent’s reach or slammed the ball at mid-court, my confidence and spirit rose. Unlike any other sport, this game with the funny name has provided more than a pastime. For many, including me, it has become an obsession that saves the spirit and bolsters good health.
While Pickleball was invented in 1965 by three dads in the Seattle area who sought to quell their children’s complaints of boredom, the game has only recently invaded New England where I live. The odd name derives from either the name of the originator’s dog or the comparison to a crew pickle-boat packed with mismatched rowers. In any case, most New Englanders had never heard of Pickleball before the recent upsurge. Played on a court similar to, but one-third the size of a tennis court, the sport combines elements of badminton, tennis and ping pong. Usually four people play doubles on one court, but singles competition is certainly an option, especially during tournaments which are also held internationally on the professional level. Game rules do apply but they are not difficult to learn. Even my aging brain cells spring to life without a fuss in order to master the odd scoring and basic etiquette.
My introduction to the sport took place twenty years ago in 2001 when I was vacationing at a gated community in Florida. After one session on the permanent court, I was hooked and played every day. Everyone had fun, the play was active, and I felt capable. Most of all, the playing field was level. Unlike other games requiring strength, height or daring, points could be made with soft “dinks,” lobs, and strategy. Someone in their eighties could defeat an opponent in their thirties. It didn’t take long for me to discover that the game is a boost to the mind, body, and spirit. No wonder Pickleball is catching on like wildfire at a time when Covid has depleted our essence.
Other than acquiring the special nets, balls, and paddles, the most problematic aspect of the game is finding lined courts for play. While school sport programs are adding Pickleball to their lineup of activities and enthusiasts of all ages are searching for playing space, the supply of lined courts is at a premium. In many states and countries, Pickleball has emerged as a legitimate, competitive sport with abundant, permanent courts. More often in my neck of the woods, however, special portable nets must be procured and set up on the few tennis courts that are Pickleball-lined which results in a clamor for court time. Without the availability of indoor space due to pandemic social distancing, those of us who need this expanding sport are definitely in a pickle.
Greater balance, improved muscle tone, and less huffing and puffing are only a few of the game’s benefits for my overall well-being. With consistent practice, I’ve been honing a killer serve, placing accurate lobs, and exerting patience before crushing a power shot. As my skill level rises, so does my confidence and poise which had all but dissolved following the death of my wife three years ago. Condolences and words of support could only soothe the soul for a time. With healthy physical motion and positive social connections, Pickleball has plucked me from the ashes of my grief to offer hope that I will find joy…and myself…once again. A simple sport with a rippling healing effect has become my passion.
As the word spreads and the number of players continue to grow, my hope is that Pickleball will be recognized on its own and the local parks and recreation authorities will expand the playing space for a wide range of citizens. Afterall, the minimal cost will multiply the benefit a hundredfold, especially at this particular time when we need more than vaccinations to return to a healthy mind, body and spirit. The game with the funny name is here to stay.
Linda Skibski is the author of the memoir, Forever, Joanne: A Story of Love, Loss, and Leaps of Faith, Stillwater River Publications (2021). She lives in Providence, RI, but can frequently be found playing Pickleball in Barrington and wherever courts are available.
© 2021 Linda Skibski
Linda Skibski 