Pickleball: I Came for the Fun
A Promising Start
When I first picked up a pickleball paddle, I was looking for something simple: light exercise, a few laughs, and maybe a chance to meet some like-minded folks. The game seemed perfect—easy to learn, low-impact, and everywhere you turned, someone was singing its praises.
My wife and I started at about the same time. We thought it might be a fun way to stay active together, enjoy the fresh air, and move around a little more than our regular routines allowed. And for a while, it delivered. There were friendly matches, good-natured banter, and a nice rhythm of play that didn’t require ice packs afterward.
We began during the winter at an indoor facility that had a welcoming atmosphere and enough courts to accommodate players of all skill levels. It was well-organized without being rigid—players naturally gravitated to the level that suited them best. That facility closed in early spring as scheduled, with plans to reopen in September.
But Then… The Tempo Changed
When we moved to a smaller outdoor facility, things were… different. Some of the players had been playing together for years, and one person in particular—a woman with a strong tennis background who also taught both tennis and pickleball—seemed to take it upon herself to manage the court dynamic. While her intentions may have been to maintain order, the tone she set carried more of a “tennis club” feel than the laid-back camaraderie we had enjoyed before.
At first, things still felt okay. Games rotated naturally, and there was a good mix of newer and more seasoned players. The skill level varied, but it didn’t seem to be a problem—everyone just played and had a good time. But as the weather warmed up and more people showed up, the pace picked up. The mood shifted. Sharper comments surfaced. A few players brought what I’d call “tennis intensity”—focused, driven, and less tolerant of casual mistakes.
Then came the split. Some players began forming exclusive groups, choosing to only play with the more experienced. That’s when the atmosphere started to change.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to play well. But I wasn’t looking to qualify for nationals—I was just trying to enjoy myself, get moving, and improve gradually. So when a few folks suggested I find “a different group” more at my level (even though most of the people I played with had no complaints), it was clear that the social dynamic had shifted.
A Quiet Concern: Staying Upright
At the same time, something else was nagging at me—balance. Not metaphorically, but literally. I started thinking more about staying upright than about chasing the ball. And on a hard court, a fall isn’t just awkward—it’s dangerous.
That reality hit home when my wife fell during a match. She had been backing up for a shot, lost her footing, and hit her head on the concrete. Thankfully, she recovered—but it took a couple of weeks before she felt fully herself again. That was the turning point for me. The risk wasn’t just theoretical anymore.
I had come to the court seeking vitality—not vulnerability.
Choosing the Exit—At Least for Now
So, I stepped away. Not out of resentment, but with a quiet acknowledgment that maybe this version of the game just wasn’t a great fit. I wasn’t quitting pickleball—just the hyper-competitive, loosely organized version that seemed to have taken hold.
Is There a Place for Pickleball’s “Middle Path”?
I still believe pickleball has a lot to offer. But maybe there’s room for a version of the game where competition is balanced with camaraderie—where players of all levels feel welcome and supported.
The real challenge? The number of players is growing fast, but court space isn’t keeping up. That imbalance inevitably creates tension, especially between long-time players and those just discovering the game.
Until that evens out, there may always be some friction—players jockeying for court time, some pushing for higher standards, others just wanting to play.
So for now, I’ll be watching from the sidelines. Maybe one day I’ll pick up the paddle again. But only if the game still feels like play.
And maybe keeping an eye out for a slower-paced venue, where fun still leads the way—and falling is just part of the scorecard for the ball, not the player.
“Play the game for the game’s sake.”
—James Naismith
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