View from the Kitchen: A Friendly Debate About Pickleball vs. Tennis
I love tennis. And I love pickleball, too. Granted, I don’t particularly know what I’m doing on the court in either sport, but that doesn’t stop me from showing up several times a week to be systematically taught the meaning of humility.
It’s a widely known fact of modern suburban existence that tennis players don’t particularly like pickleballers. They view pickleball as an unholy hybrid of ping-pong and lawn chess played by people whose idea of warm-up stretches involves tying their orthopedic sneakers. Meanwhile, pickleballers see tennis players as stiff, elitist purists whose prime time has passed.
As an enlightened diplomat who plays both sports, I figured I could bridge the cultural chasm. I invited two of my friends – Brad, a die-hard tennis player who dresses like he’s warm-up partners with Roger Federer, and Derek, a devoted pickleball convert who has bought four new paddles in the past six months – to sit down for a calm, civil discussion on the relative merits of their games. Things didn’t go quite the way I had hoped.
Me: Welcome, guys. Let’s keep this constructive. Brad, let’s start with you. What is it about tennis that you love so much?
Brad (Tennis): It’s the elegance, Tim. The sheer athletic challenge, the power of a crisp, well-struck serve, and the chess-like strategy required to master the court. It’s a pure sport with a glorious tradition dating back all the way back to 12th century France.
Derek (Pickleball): Well, you can say all of those things about pickleball, too, except the 12th century France part. Plus, it’s much easier to learn, highly social, and way gentler on the joints.
Brad: Yeah, that’s because you barely move in pickleball, Derek. You’re playing on a court roughly the size of a kitchen rug. Tennis gives you a real, intense aerobic workout because the court is actually twice the size of your sport’s court.
Derek: Well, my wife tells me size doesn’t matter, and—
Brad: Face it, pickleball is for people who are too old, slow, and lazy to keep up with tennis. It’s ping-pong for folks who feel golf is too much work. Plus, you all wear those stupid novelty t-shirts that say things like “I May Have a Dinking Problem.” It’s totally lame.
Derek: Have you even tried pickleball, dude? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You tennis guys act like you’re playing in the finals at Wimbledon when in reality you’re just two middle-aged men in $200 polo shirts hitting three balls over the fence and spending twenty minutes searching for them in the bushes.
Brad: At least our sport uses a real ball! Your sport uses a plastic wiffle ball – the exact same equipment my seven-year-old son uses for backyard tee-ball. You’re swinging a glorified wooden cutting board at a toy. Talk about pathetic.
Derek: Oh, yeah? Well, look at the numbers, Nigel van Bridgerton. Pickleball is the fastest-growing sport in America. There are millions of us! Eventually, there will be nobody left playing tennis except you and three rich snobs named Winston, Preston, and Sterling, sipping cucumber water in white sweaters tied around your necks.
Brad: Growth doesn’t equal quality! Reality TV is popular, too, but that doesn't mean it’s good. And what’s with the noise? That pop-pop-pop sound of your plastic paddles sounds like a swarm of angry woodpeckers attacking a Tupperware factory. It’s ruining peaceful neighborhoods everywhere!
Derek: You know what’s actually ruining neighborhoods? The sound of tennis players grunting like competitive weightlifters every time they hit a 30-mile-an-hour serve!
Brad: That grunting is physical exertion! You wouldn’t understand exertion because your entire sport consists of standing three inches from a net, softly tapping a hollow ball, and clapping paddles with a fellow AARP member and telling them “right idea” after their shot lands in the net.
Derek: At least we have fun! When was the last time you smiled on a tennis court, Brad? You look like you’re angry with the world every time you step up to serve!
Brad: I’m focusing! Something you pickleballers clearly don’t do, considering your entire game was named after someone’s family dog!
Derek: It was a cocker spaniel, you pompous sweatband enthusiast! And the dog was named after the game, you idiot!
Brad: Whatever it was, it’s a joke! Just like your neon visors and your sacred "kitchen zone."
At this point, both men were getting red-faced and leaning across the net like two rival mob bosses negotiating turf boundaries. I decided it was time to step in and restore the peace.
Me: Guys, guys! Calm down. Look, there’s room in the world for both sports. I mean, I personally enjoy playing both tennis and pickleball. They’re both great sports.
Derek paused. He slowly turned his head to stare at me. Brad stopped glaring at Derek and turned to look at me with equal disdain.
Brad: Wait a minute... You play pickleball?
Derek: Hold on, you play tennis with this guy?
Me: Like I said, I like both games! What wrong with having a little balance?
Brad: Balance? It’s not balance, Tim, it’s spinelessness. Pick a side, bro’.
Derek: I hate to admit it but Brad is right. You can’t be a tennis player and a pickleballer. That’s like saying you root for the police and the bank robbers!
Brad: Exactly. Choose a sport, Tim. Get off the fence, Mr. Wishy Washy.
Derek: Seriously, Tim, you’re such an annoying people pleaser. Stand up for something. Where are your convictions? You disgust me.
Brad: Absolutely pathetic. Come on, Derek, let's get outta here.
Derek: Right behind you. Honestly, Tim, I thought you had more self-respect.
So, in a way, my experiment was a huge success. I brought two rival athletes together and helped them find common ground: their mutual loathing of me.
– Tim Jones [Check out more of Tim’s View from the Bleachers humor column in the Crab Cracker, at www.ViewFromTheBleachers.net and his YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/viewfromthebleachers]
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