Today I played pickleball for the first time in years.
My serve is rusty (and always was the weakest part of my game).
My reflexes are strong.
My touch is precise.
At the beginning, I joined a middling game: a few people who think of themselves as rated at a 3.5 skill level. (Pickleball is the sort of game where everyone says they’re 3.5).
The first game, I shanked 4/6 serves. I just didn’t have the mind-body connection. No idea what to do or how to do it. My team lost 11-9.
The second game, I served 3 of 4 successfully. My team went down 11-3. (The opposing team hit every ball to my teammate, targeting the weaker player.)
The third game, I served 8/9 successfully. My team won 11-5. I almost grabbed one shot on a rolling dive. When I’m playing a game, I’m completely in it.
After the third game, I watched the remaining players. Only one game has players even close to my level. I’m certainly in the top 5 players out today, quite possibly top 2 or 3. Once I have my serve back, I’ll return to competitive.
My serve has always been weak since I have no interest in practicing it. Every other part of the game, you can improve while playing. The serve requires drilling. (Why would I want to do that?)
I watched for a bit, then headed home. I didn’t want to overdo it. I want to see how my knee feels tomorrow (after both the pickleball and the dive).
I watched a few YouTube videos on serving. It’s amusing that I play so well but have such a poor serve. If I improve this one part, I level up drastically. (Turns out, that’s why.)
Maybe soon I’ll return to this park for more pickleball. It feels like running into a long-lost love that never broke up, simply petered out. It’s nice to see her, to touch her, to hold her hand in mine. The world is brighter when we’re together. The sounds quiet*, and the birds watch while together we dance.
*dink, dink, dink…
Julian Wise 