Pickleball Mania
The history of pickleball & my new obsession
Pickleball Mania
Tennis used to be my “thing” growing up. I was a good player, but I wasn’t driven in the way someone with potential “should” be. Tennis was part something I enjoyed doing and part social hour with my friends. I played for fun, not for sport.
In sixth grade, when my tennis coach moved me into the high school class in attempt to “challenge” me, the only thing challenged was my desire to play. I missed my friends and I hated the extra hour of conditioning. Rather than voice my feelings, I soon stopped playing all together.
I suppose it was easier that way. It was better to quit than tell my coach I really just wanted to have fun. I didn’t want to do tournaments. I didn’t want to condition. I didn’t want to be a “serious” tennis player. It was better to say, “I don’t like tennis anymore,” when I really meant, “I don’t like the pressure I’m feeling.”
My parents would have been understanding. I think my coach would have been too. But when you’re that young sometimes you don’t know how to express what you really mean.
For the last several years, I’ve been craving the feel of a racket in my hand. I’ve missed the strength I felt when my racket connected to the ball just right. The stretch of my muscles as I executed the perfect swing. The adrenalin when I’d run after a tough shot and make it just in time. I even missed the burn in my lungs that signified I was playing hard.
I’ve missed it but I haven’t done anything about it. As an adult it’s hard to foster new, or even old, hobbies. Life is busy and hobbies can be expensive. We’ve also conditioned ourselves to think that we have to be good at something in order for it to be a worthwhile pursuit. (You don’t, by the way. You can enjoy something because it’s enjoyable, not because you’re good at it.)
We also like to tell ourselves that we’re too old and we’ve missed the opportunity to learn something new. But experimenting with new hobbies doesn’t have to end with childhood. In case no one’s told you, adults can take beginner ballet lessons too. Or piano. Or pottery. Or pickleball! Hobbies are for all ages to enjoy.
Enter pickleball, America’s fastest growing sport.
A few weeks ago my mom and brother invited me to play a game. I begrudgingly said yes and joined them on our DIY pickleball court in the farm’s parking area. Almost immediately, it felt familiar. My body recognized the movements, the stretch, the burn. My body was high on it; it was so happy to be doing something it genuinely loves. I can’t explain it, not well enough. But I can say this: I wasn’t the world’s best pickleball player—in fact it took me days to finally win a single game, but it didn’t matter. My body felt alive and that was enough.
Pickleball is not tennis, but it calls to me in a very similar way. It’s become a fast new hobby that’s completely overtaken my life. I look forward to playing as often as I can simply because it’s fun and it makes me feel good. Which is how hobbies should make us feel.
I’ve still yet to play tennis again. It’s strange how just the thought makes my body anxious. I start thinking about how I’ll need to be as good as I once was. How I’ll need to be better. How serious I’ll have to be about it. I know it doesn’t have to be that way, but my body still remembers how twelve year old Haven felt. But I’m working on it.
I’ll play tennis again, but for now I play pickleball.
On My Phone [Pickleball Edition]
The History of Pickleball
I’ve been reading up on the history of pickleball and I wanted to share with you a few fun facts I have learned:
The catalyst for the game happened in 1965 when a boy (self-admittedly) “bitched” to his Dad, Joel Pritchard, and their family friend, Bill Bell, about having nothing to do. The pair saw it as a challenge and got to work creating what would eventually become pickleball.
Many people assume pickleball was named after the Pritchard’s family dog, Pickles. This is a fabricated story that Joel shared with a national news reporter that’s since been debunked by family and friends.
Pickles the dog, arrived in 1968 (after the game’s creation) and was named after the game.
The real story behind the name “pickleball” is that Joel’s wife, Joan Pritchard, named the game after college pickle boat crew members who were “leftover” nonstarters playing against other university nonstarters for fun. The name and its tie to the concept of leftovers referenced pickleball’s rules that were a little bit badminton and a little bit table tennis.
If you’re interested in a more in depth summary on the history of pickleball, I’d suggest watching this 15 minute video narrated by one of the pickleball founders, Barry McCallum.
Get Involved!
Final takeaway: if you’ve never tried pickleball, try it! When I say it’s the fastest growing sport in America—I mean it. Pickleball courts are popping up left and right. Community recreation centers are organizing teams. Locals are playing games in their backyards. Tournaments are being broadcasted on television.
So, grab a friend and visit a court!
Or sign up for a pickleball lesson!
OR, try a different hobby that calls to you! You’re never too old to learn something new or revisit an old hobby. Let’s chase after the activities that bring us joy and fulfillment—the ones that make us feel alive.
Be bold and make life special…just because.
See you next Sunday,
Haven
Shoutout to ur ankle 🙌😭
Love this!! Pickleball has become my family’s “go-to” sport to play with eachother!!