An Essay: My Peace, My Planet, and My Pickleball.
By NJ Dave
This essay is about Camaraderie, Goodfellowship, and Sportsmanship. And an individual’s decision why play pickleball in the first place, and then the decision whether to win or lose graciously, respectfully, and unaffected. Or, an individual’s choice to become surly, disagreeable, and upset by the outcome, or proximate causes to the outcome. Win or lose.
This essay touches on my journey to pickleball, and how the journey has rescued me from almost 30 years of involuntary diminished activity.
I used to run in 5Ks and 10Ks. In fact, my wife (yes, I am married though Lynn hasn’t quite caught pickleball fever yet) Lynn was pregnant with Katrina when we ran in the Spring Lake 5K – some 33 years ago. Now, I can’t run 40 yards without my back barking in discomfort. I used to play golf – usually once a week. Not particularly well, but on really good days I flirted with an 80 on some pretty tough courses. Now, I am twisted into a pretzel for a week after playing 9 holes on shorter courses.
I used to play for Monmouth County Parks in a softball league. The last basketball league I played was an over 21, mixed, 4-on-4 league in Red Bank. I was 54 and had a great team to carry me (Tony, Katrina, and Joan Manigrasso). After 8 weeks, I was barely able to walk but they made it to the final game of the playoffs.
I have always played every game in all sports to win. I didn’t always win, but losing wasn’t due to lack of effort. There is always someone with better skills and abilities who wanted to win as much as I did.
I recently learned some people don’t care to play pickleball with me not because I flub some shots, but because I don’t have the so-called ‘killer’ instinct. A few players I’ve clashed with in pursuit of a ball which may not have been rightfully mine (poach), may disagree. But I’ve had folks mention to me, “I really want to win!” or “It would be nice to win.”
Yeah. I get that. Sure. It is nice. A momentary bonus, perhaps. But winning no longer drives me. I’m just grateful for both the opportunity and privilege to play.
I say that after undergoing three, lower back surgeries. My career and lifestyle were abruptly interrupted by injuries sustained from a fall in June of 1988.
Since then, post-surgical sports for me – basketball, tennis, golf, bowling – all became a luxury – a scarce luxury after playing often left me hunched over and barely able to walk without the aid of a cane.
TGFP – Thank God For Pickleball. I can’t tell you – other than by the smile on my face – how much it means to be able to play, and play without pain.
The comment, “You don’t have a killer instinct” got me to thinking about why and how I play pickleball, vs. other sports I’ve played, and life, in general.
I’ve had my share of fun beating up on and getting beaten up playing tennis, basketball, racquetball, ping pong, and badminton. And bocce. I miss bocce. Not the civilized and compartmentalized game we see played in over 55 communities. I mean real bocce, played in yards with stumps and roots and ruts and fences and in (too) close proximity to the family picnicers and their partying. I’ve got a set of hand-carved Croatian ‘buttcha’ balls – easily 100 years old – which belonged to my maternal grandfather’s family. They’re about the same size and weight as small cannonballs.
Hmmmm. My grandfather made and sold whiskey during prohibition. Maybe they were cannonballs. He made wine, too. As a grocer, he had access to truckloads of grapes. I remember in 1960 stomping crates and crates of dark red or dark blue grapes into a sticky mash which was pressed and screened. The liquid was transferred into the cellar where giant oak barrels stored the stuff which would later be for ‘personal’ use… Though I remember friends, family and strangers alike would bring their empty, glass gallon jugs to be filled with “Nick’s wine” and I’m presuming some may have found their way to the back rooms certain NYC and Jersey Shore grocery stores.
My Grandfather told me how he could tell where the winemakers stored their grapes by looking for the fruit flies which would swarm and cover outdoor sheds and garages.
I have some of his old winemaking machinery, and his old copper still which is displayed in our living room.
Anyway. Back to Pickleball.
I’m sure we all agree there is great satisfaction in hitting a well-paced/well placed Onyx onto advancing shoelaces, and winning is sweet. But it’s not everything, at least not to me.
I’ve enjoyed playing pickleball from the very first day, 15 months ago, (thanks Kim, Sabash and Remya). And I have a blast. Win or lose. And I hope the folks I play with have fun, too. Win or lose. I can’t recall ever having criticized an opponent, or a teammate, or vigorously disputed a line call. I don’t take this game seriously enough to want to hurt anyone’s feelings… because we are all doing our best. Whatever that best may be.
Wait. That’s not totally true.
If I sense a teammate is inhibited, lacking in confidence, self-deprecating, or overly apologetic… I’ll probably speak up and remind them that this is just a game in which to have fun and get some exercise.
As we age, some of us may lose reflexes, mobility, hearing, vision, and flexibility. In my case all of the above, plus short-term memory loss. As we age, some of us may lose reflexes, mobility, hearing, vision, and flexibility. In my case all of the above, plus short-term memory loss.
All of us might not hear the score being called, or realize too late it might have been called incorrectly.
Line calls are often problematic, especially those made from far away and cross court while others who may have had a better view… might disagree.
USAPA rules govern how line call disputes are to be settled. The proper call is IN. You must see the ball out before calling it out. Whenever there is doubt, the call is IN. Always.
But as respectful, gracious, and unaffected by outcome members of this community may be, sometimes individual players may get excited or flustered and forget that its just a game, and that pickleball by design and rules which govern play prioritize fun, fitness, and friendliness.
I consider pregame introductions and post-game paddle bumping important parts of the game. I try to look my opponent(s) and teammate in the eye and say something positive about the game – win or lose which for me is about a 50/50 split. It’s democratic. And fair. And I love having the opportunity to play and tell others about it.
For example, this past Sunday my wife Lynn and I were in a New Brunswick vegan restaurant with a couple from Baltimore who had traveled to deliver a 90-minute presentation that afternoon on pending legislation HR-676, and S-1803. For those who don’t know, HR-676, and S-1803 concern our nation’s medical industrial complex. The presentation addressed the differences between having healthcare and having access to healthcare insurance.
We had planned to do something with our friends before the 4:00 program. In back and forth Emails I suggested a group pickleball lesson. Lynn has played only once enjoying it, and Kevin and Margaret who had heard about pickleball, seen it played, but had never ventured onto a court.
I suggested we could do it before lunch and still have plenty of time before they had to go to work. I say work because Margaret, a pediatrician, and Kevin, an attorney, founders of HOPE.org (Health Over Profit for Everyone), travel the nation advocating and organizing for a universal, single-payer healthcare delivery system AKA Expanded and Improved Medicare For All. HR-676
[By the way, millions of Americans are one diagnosis or injury away from financial catastrophe. Millions remain uninsured and, increasingly, the insured can’t afford needed treatments. This doesn’t have to be – NJ and the U.S. can afford excellent, comprehensive health care for everyone for less than we now pay.
At 6:30 PM on Monday, October 1, in Red Bank’s United Methodist Church at 247 Broad Street, Lynn will participate in a panel discussion and community forum about Expanded and Improved Medicare for All. (Lynn and I are co-founders of Medicare For All – NJ)]
Kevin and Margaret, whom I refer to as the dynamic duo, report on this, and many serious issues we face on PopularResistance.Org, and their Monday morning Washington DC radio program, Clearing the FOG.
Sunday was another workday for them. Pickleball would have to wait.
“We’ve heard of pickleball and have seen people playing. It looks like fun, but we have to prepare for Monday’s program in the morning. We’d still like to learn. So tell us about pickleball.”
I start my elevator speech with, “Pickleball saved my life.”
On a napkin, I made up a gift certificate offering a free lesson and presented it over some outrageously delicious works of plant-based, edible art.
We’ve agreed to look at some dates and go down to Baltimore for lesson after next week’s World Without War conference in Toronto, October’s Woman’s March on the Pentagon, and after November’s World Peace Conference in Ireland.
As some folks may know, I give lessons to groups of beginners and intermediate players – each with unique schedules. And when I can get 4 people to agree on a time to meet, the weather hasn’t always been cooperative. It’s a chore. It’s inefficient. It’s inconvenient. And that got me to thinking.
For the last 25 years, certified in nonprofit management, I’ve founded, co-founded or consulted on the formation, finance and operation of multiple 501c3 organizations. That’s why I’m comfortable with the idea to organize a non-profit, member-owned, and member self-directed enterprise – an indoor dedicated pickleball venue for open play, league play, and instruction.
There is a curling club in Falmouth, Massachusetts, which could be the model for a pickleball clubhouse. Complete with shower facilities, a spacious kitchen/bar/lounge, and a huge widescreen TV.
A while back, I was a managing partner on a waterfront sports development/retail/ferry project which included professional baseball (OK, the Adirondack Lumberjacks of the Northern League) and the DNBA. The proforma included the placement of two Atlantic Club or New Shrewsbury Racquet Club style bubbles: one for tennis, and one for ice hockey.
The project incorporated a nonprofit experiential learning component for area high school and community college kids…which helped identify both public and private grant funding sources.
But 9/11 forced a rethink and delays on developing brownfields a stone’s throw from NYC. And then the Mayor went to jail. I wonder if he played pickleball while incarcerated?
Peace,
(NJ) Dave Petrovich
This essay is the first in (hopefully) many user-submitted pieces published in Monmouth Area Pickleball’s new column: Poached! Do you have something you’d like to say about the game or your experience? Do you have an interesting story or tale to tell? Have you run into a rules-related question for which you just can’t seem to find an answer? We’d love to hear from you and share your story* with the Monmouth Area Pickleball community. Visit our Poached! submission page.
*All submissions subject to review, approval, and editing of Monmouth Area Pickleball.