The day I turned fifty, a man about ten years my senior inexplicably appeared at my front door. The mysterious visitor was clad in Vuori shorts, a weather-beaten visor, Hoka sneakers, neon colored rec-specs, and a t-shirt with text on the front that cryptically warned: “If you can’t stand the heat…”
He had an air of dead-eyed exuberance about him, like a person who had recently joined a cult. His physique was unremarkable for someone seemingly predisposed to athletic wear and, visor non-withstanding, his skin looked like he had spent the better part of the last decade directly exposed to an unhealthy amount of sunlight.
Suddenly, and without warning, the man thrust what looked like a miniaturized tennis racquet directly into my hand.
Pickleball Man: (With unrestrained glee) Here. You’ll be doing this now.
Me: (Curiously looking at the unfamiliar piece of sports equipment now in my possession) Hmmm, I’m not so sure. Isn’t this for the old people down at the rec center?
Pickleball Man: Have you seen your hair in the mirror lately?
Me: Fair point. But I still play basketball. Can’t I just keep doing that?
Pickleball Man: Can I counter your question with another question? Do you like having the ability to use stairs the day after you exercise?
Me: (Nodding slightly) Yes.
Pickleball Man: Then you’re going to want to replace basketball with this.
Me: Is it the same amount of exercise?
Pickleball Man: Hell no. But it gets tracked as two hours of zone 2 cardio, so all your Strava contacts will still think you’re crushing it!
Me: I guess I can try it. I used to play tennis. Will that give me a leg up on the competition?
Pickleball Man: (Taking a second to ponder the question) Initially, but once you start playing with more experienced players, it will not matter at all, and might even be a detriment to your success.
Me: How will I know who’s a more experienced player?
Pickleball Man: Oh, they’ll casually mention their DUPR.
Me: What’s a dooper?
Pickleball Man: It’s a number that indicates to other players how good you are at pickleball.
Me: And everyone knows their number?
Pickleball Man: Yes.
Me: And they’re accurate?
Pickleball Man: God no. They’re either wildly inflated or deflated depending on a variety of factors: ego, mood, tournament choice, and tiered play slots available on any given day.
Me: (slowly turning the racquet over in my hand) Do I need any other equipment besides this racquet?
Pickleball Man: First of all, never, ever call it a racquet unless you want to be laughed off the court. They’re PADDLES. Think of them like drivers for golf. There are a myriad of brands and attributes and they almost all look exactly the same. And unless you’re a high-level player, there’s probably an infinitesimal difference in how they affect your game.
Me: (Making the air quote symbol during the word paddles) So people aren’t that concerned about their “paddles” then?
Pickleball Man: Actually, they’re absolutely obsessed with them. They’ll talk almost exclusively about nothing else. “I’m not sure I like my current paddle.” “Have you seen the new Selkirk Elites?” “Do you think the grit on this paddle will affect my third shot drop.”
Me: Third shot what now?
Pickleball Man: You’re not ready for that yet. But in about two months you’ll be watching about 200 hours of YouTube videos exclusively dedicated to improving it.
Me:(Confused, but forging ahead) Okay… What if I don’t like this paddle? How much is a new one?
Pickleball Man: Some people spend multiple hundreds of dollars on them, swapping them out several times a year.
Me: Hundreds of dollars?! Oof. The balls must be cheap though right? They’re like wiffle balls.
Pickleball Man: You would think, but they’re surprisingly costly for plastic balls with holes in them. Also, they crack if you look at them the wrong way, so you’re going to need a lot of them. But forget about the cost. The main thing you need to know about pickleballs is that no matter what type of ball you bring to the court, according to your opponent, it will always be “the wrong kind” and they’ll insist on using theirs.
Me: Sounds… fun?
Pickleball Man: It is. You’ll talk about nothing else for the next six months. Eventually, your wife will probably have an intervention and afterwards, you’ll re-calibrate your enthusiasm to a more maritally sustainable level. Until then, get ready for a helluva ride.
Me: So, I guess I’ll see you on the courts?
Pickleball Man: Uh, no. See, I’m a 4.5 and I don’t play with beginners. If I have anything to say about it, we won’t cross paths in a game until at least four or five years from now.
Me: (Incredulously) Five years? It’s going to be that long before I’m any good at this?
Pickleball Man: It could be sooner. Are you going to drill?
Me: You mean practice?
Pickleball Man: Yes.
Me: (Slightly annoyed) I mean, I’m an adult with a full-time job, kids, and a wife. I don’t see myself finding time to “drill.”
Pickleball Man: Well, five years it is then. Have fun, and one last thing, say “0-0-2” not “0-0-start.” That pegs you as a beginner.
Me: That means nothing to me.
Pickleball Man: It will my friend. It will.
