There Once Was a Boy

Now that it's been nearly a month since I started working out downstairs with Treat, we have found that the pickleball court is not always as open as it seemed to be the first week or so. In fact there is a regular group of players, who, if they are already playing by the time we get down there, will not likely give up the court before it's time for us to leave. Oh, there's a system for signing up, but unfamiliarity with both it and the game itself have kept us from anything but practice games between ourselves when the court is empty. 

A couple weeks ago, we talked Emily into going to play with us, and as the three of us smacked the pickleball around, sometimes wildly, sometimes with accidental precision, a woman approached with her middle-school aged son. "I noticed there are only three of you," she started. "Would you mind if my son joined your game? He really just wants the practice."

We shrugged, and welcomed the kid into our game. His mom seemed pretty experienced with her equipment bag and court shoes, and as she handed him a racquet from the three or four in her bag, she reminded him not to swing it too hard. "It's light and powerful," she warned, and with that he bounded onto my side of the court.

What's your name?" I asked.

It was Pierre, and he was an eighth grader at our school, although he had never been in either my or Emily's class. Pierre was a curious dude; self-assured and light on his feet, comfortable talking to adults, with some solid, but uneven pickleball skills.

"Shall we play a game?" he asked, and proceeded to teach us the rules and etiquette for pickleball doubles. He was good enough to carry a team, and the rest of us had our moments, so it ended up being a fun and fair match up.

I was disappointed this afternoon when I glanced through the safety glass on my way to the locker room. The courts are taken 😩 I texted Emily and Treat, in case they wanted to change their workout plan.

It's only Pierre Emily replied a few minutes later when she got in there. The two of sat in, yes, folding chairs and watched Pierre give his friend a lesson in the basics. As they volleyed, Treat came and told us he had a call at 3, but would join us after. 

"Do you want the court?" asked Pierre a few minutes later.

"Do you guys want to play a game?" I asked in return. And so we did. It was fun. Emily got her serve down, and when Treat came out it so happened the other kid had to leave so he joined as our fourth. Pierre was a bit pedantic, and still far from a pro pickler, but one could never say he doesn't care.