Enjoy my new recreational pickleball journal! I am going to post more of these here and on my website. Also, if you like reading about pickleball in general, please visit www.pickleballportal.com and check out my articles. Many thanks for your support.

PICKLEBALL JOURNAL - ENTRY 1:

A word for Sunday-night pickleball: intense—some of the best games I’ve played (feeling light and loose) and some of the most aggressive attacks I’ve faced. The gigantic warehouse had rooms partitioned, a smooth floor with clear markings, and a “dead” spot or two; on contact the ball would not bounce. The temperature was just right, the lighting perfect, the ceiling high, and there was ample space between courts. The short distance from the baseline to the wall made serving difficult for everyone. The ladies and one gentleman I played with arrived eager and energized, ready to scrap. And that’s just what they did. During long rallies the girls came at me with two-handed cross-court shots and overheads and forehands; the guy joined in with spinning balls—which weren’t difficult for me to handle—and lobs; he sprayed balls all over—even at my head! Fast play did not allow for dinking or slowing down, though damn it I tried changing tempo from time to time. Nobody wanted to do anything but speed up right away, even when that strategy failed and failed. Too bad. The matches were quick and smooth, though, and for two hours everyone kept rotating and having new partners. A few of the players had above-average power, their balls coming at me as if shot from a cannon. At times my counter-attacks were a little off and my footwork was lacking. When I saw openings, angles, or readable patterns, I tried to make good shots. Funny: My wife wanted my head on a plate and, at least twice, got it! I think one of her mid-court rips got me in the neck, bringing out the laughs.
Best part of the night: nobody telling me how to play or playing the part of know-it-all, no unkind words, no disputed calls, no dirty looks or grumbling because of unforced errors or sloppy side-outs or lame serves or returns. There was no shortage of mess-ups, I myself committing several. Support, encouragement, and good humor filled the hours and drew from all of us our very best. Everyone had in common respect and appreciation for the game. We had fun playing and were ready for the next meetup. Yes! That’s the purpose of recreational pickleball, right?