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PICKLEBALL JOURNAL – ENTRY 7

Pickleball moved well today, a three-hour session. I met new players, saw familiar faces. As usual, a lot of spiking was being done on every court. Not much dinking or strategic play. In one match or two I slowed down points, did mid-court resets, and transitioned to dinking, though speed-ups came before longish rallies could develop. Some of my partners were a pleasure to work with, at times making our rhythm feel as though we were in a groove and following a plan. Those same players covered me during lobs or overheads or tough put-aways and I did the same for them. In additional to smashing, lobs were everywhere today, happening left and right. I started to laugh at the frequency and bad placement of the shots: most of the balls dropped into the kitchen, bouncing high and becoming attackable. So many players were still trying very hard to spin. A large number of these shots never cleared the tape or got slapped into the net. Believe it or not, the players continued using that technique even when it caused errors, slowed down the game, or prevented rallies from starting and lasting long. It seems to me that players of all ages become drawn to a specific kind of shot or technique and use it despite repeated errors, side-outs, and losing streaks. I spoke to a woman who told me that most of the people she has played with also slam their way through matches and hardly ever use finesse or have patience enough to wait for a different advantage. I brought up that I watch professional matches and respect and admire the “complete” games they play. She chuckled, agreed, but admitted that the level of play we appreciate most is hard to find in recreational competition. During a firefight I did manage to deflect, take another hit, and then make a cross-court drop in the corner for a score. (I got lucky on that one.) Switching from defense to offense in mid-rally, I like doing that. My teammate appreciated that move. I wanted to say, if we could work together we would do much better. No good just whaling away for yourself while ignoring your teammate. The hours sped past.