Reporter’s Notebook: Converting A Pickleball ‘Snob’

“Joey is a pickleball snob.”

Those were the words of my friend and tennis doubles partner Bobby Clark, whom I met at Taconic Sport & Racquet in Hopewell Junction, when I turned down yet another invitation to play pickleball.

Bobby, who, like many tennis players, also plays pickleball, was right. 

I’m 62 and have been playing tennis since I was 8. And I have always scoffed at pickleball. To me, the game always seemed less of a sport than an “activity,” like horseshoes, lawn darts or cornhole.

Rick Reilly, the great sportswriter, captured my feelings in his anti-pickleball screed: “Any game that you can take up after breakfast and be pretty good at by lunch is not a sport.” 

Yet in recent years, it feels like I’ve been pursued by a passionate pickleball posse, determined to capture the last outlaw and force him to play.

The game’s growth is relentless, driven largely by the fact that it’s easy to learn and, supposedly, fun. More than 13 million people play pickleball, according to the Sport and Fitness Industry Association.  

The game is alleged to have grown by more than 200 percent since the onset of the pandemic, when it was deemed a safe “socially distanced” activity. Pickleball is also notorious for its injuries. As Reilly declares: “Remember, kids: Every time you see a new pickleball court open, an orthopedist gets a new boat.”

Locally, pickleball courts are sprouting like invasive species. My club, Taconic Sport & Racquet, added eight courts this year. There are eight (and only two tennis courts) at Martz Field in Wappingers. Beacon has two pickleball courts at South Avenue Park and two at Green Street Park. Cold Spring is adding one at Mayor’s Park.

Many people install courts in their driveway, right where they used to erect impromptu badminton nets.

I was invited to play at the home of Debbi Milner, the founder of the Pickleball Ladies, a group of about 60 local women who play each day. I was trapped. I wanted a story and Debbi is one of those people who is hard to resist. 

So I showed up in my tennis clothes and became one of the few men ever to play with the group. It took a while for me to understand the rules and “the kitchen,” the off-limits area in front of the net. I also discovered a unique way of holding an extra pickleball — under your bra strap. As far as I can tell, the Pickleball Ladies invented that. 

I still don’t get pickleball scoring. And I’m unashamed to report that my partner and I lost. One of my opponents told me: “I’m 79 and proud of it.”

But the world didn’t stop spinning. And I had fun, though it would be hard not to have fun with this dynamic community of charming women.

Ah, what the hell. Maybe I’ll head over to Walmart and grab a paddle. I’m told you can find the pickleball gear near the horseshoes and bocce sets.