The picture above is your editor playing pickleball.
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A sociologist, a psychologist, and a pickleball player walk into a bar. The sociologist observes the social dynamics of the other patrons. The psychologist analyzes their motivations. The pickleball player immediately starts critiquing the bartender’s form, explaining how a lower center of gravity would lead to a much more efficient pour.
My therapist told me I have a pickleball addiction. I told her that’s ridiculous. Then I asked if she wanted to see my new paddle. She said no. I can’t be friends with someone who has such a negative outlook on life.
How many pickleball players does it take to change a lightbulb? Four. One to screw it in, and three to stand around and argue about whether their feet were in the kitchen when they did it.
I’ve started to realize that my pickleball strategy has a lot in common with my approach to life’s problems: just keep dinking it back and hope the other person messes up first.
A guy is explaining pickleball to his friend. “So, you hit a plastic ball with a paddle over a net.” The friend asks, “Like tennis?” “No, not at all,” the player scoffs. “The net is lower, and there’s a kitchen.” The friend, now thoroughly confused, asks, “Do you cook in it?” The player sighs, “No, of course not. That would be a foot fault.”
My doctor told me to take up a new sport for my health. I chose pickleball. Now I have the heart of a 30-year-old, the knees of a 70-year-old, and a burning desire to talk about the kitchen with anyone who will listen.
I went to a fancy restaurant the other day, and the waiter asked if I wanted to start with a soup or a salad. I told him I’d rather just dink for a while to see what he’s got. He didn’t appreciate my strategy.
You can tell a lot about a person by how they react to getting hit with a pickleball. Some apologize, some laugh, and some… well, some start practicing their overhead slams with a little too much intensity.
A man is on a first date. It’s going well, and he’s trying to impress the woman. She asks him what he’s passionate about. He leans in conspiratorially and says, “I’m a nationally-ranked pickleball player.” The woman’s eyes light up. “Wow, that’s amazing! What’s your secret?” He looks around, then whispers, “I tell everyone I’m a nationally-ranked pickleball player.”
A pickleball player passes away and finds himself at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter greets him and says, “Welcome! Before you enter, we have a special pickleball court for our new arrivals. You can play a match against anyone from history.” The player is thrilled and asks, “Can I play against Moses?” St. Peter nods, and soon the player is on a beautiful court with Moses. The game begins, and every time the player hits a shot, Moses parts the net and the ball rolls right through. Frustrated, the player says, “This isn’t fair!” Moses replies, “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to play with the guy who wrote the rules.”
A couple is playing a heated game of mixed doubles. The husband keeps poaching his wife’s shots. After the third time, she slams her paddle down on the court and yells, “What are you doing? Those were my shots!” The husband replies, “I’m sorry, dear. I just have more confidence in my ability to hit the ball into the net than you do.”
A pickleball player is bragging to his friends about his new paddle. “It’s made of a special carbon fiber that was developed by NASA,” he says. “It gives me incredible power and control.” One of his friends asks, “So, you’re winning more games?” The player shakes his head. “No, but now I can blame my losses on a much more expensive piece of equipment.”
A group of pickleball players are sitting around after a long day of play. One of them says, “You know, I think pickleball is the perfect metaphor for life. It’s all about finding the right partner, communicating effectively, and trying to stay out of the kitchen as much as possible.”
My partner and I have an amazing on-court dynamic. I set them up for the perfect shot, and they hit it directly at the other team’s strongest player. It’s a strategy we call “indirect intimidation.”
I don’t always play pickleball, but when I do, I make sure to spend the first ten minutes complaining about the wind, the sun, and the questionable lineage of the ball.
The hardest part about pickleball isn’t the third shot drop; it’s convincing your tennis-playing friends that it’s a real sport.
I’ve spent so much money on pickleball paddles that I’m considering declaring them as dependents on my taxes.
My family has started to get concerned about my pickleball obsession. They say I need to find a better work-life-pickleball balance.
I asked a pro for their best pickleball tip. They said, “The most important thing is to have fun.” Then they hit a serve that nearly took my head off. I guess fun is relative.
