FIND YOUR PEOPLE: A SHORT STORY

I was playing outside last Sunday with a group of friends that I met about six years ago. We had all cut our teeth on the game back then at a small park with four courts, before pickleball exploded here in Utah. We were still learning the game and none of us were really that good. In between games on Sunday, Julie and I were reminiscing about how we had first met at a tournament in a neighboring town several years before. We both shared our individual life journeys on a bench and became instant friends.

As I was driving home, I was reminiscing about the many acquaintances and friends that I have met over the years playing pickleball. If you’ve been reading my blog, I have mentioned before that Pickleball is much more to me than just a competitive game. I really cherish the conversations that I’ve had with people where I’ve learned where they are from, what they do for a living, what their life story is, and how they found Pickleball. Some of these people I’ve met have been traveling through my hometown and I’ve never seen them again. Others have become very good friends and people that I regularly play with.

As I was pondering on all the different conversations I’ve had, I was reminded of an instance I had a couple years ago at my local club. I showed up for drop-in with the usual regulars and instantly saw three younger men on one of the courts that I didn’t recognize. If you know me, you know I’m a people person and I typically make an effort to get to know everyone at my club.

I ended up getting on a court with these three from Colorado and we played a game together. It was very competitive with great shots, great gets, and extended rallies. It’s always fun to play new people whose games you don’t know where you’re not quite sure what to anticipate from the other side of the net.

Up until this time, I had always worn sweatpants when I played Pickleball. While I had done a lot of inner relational work on myself a couple years before, I was still terrified of people seeing my legs on a pickleball court. It was just easier not to ever have to explain why my legs were skinny, so covering them up saved me from potential awkward conversations. A few months before this time, I had finally resolved to own my body and accept it for the way it is. That took a lot of work and meditation. I still remember walking into my club for the first time with shorts on. I imagined every single person on a court that I walked by had stopped play and turned their heads to watch me walk down the Runway of Terror to the back of the building where the drop-in courts were. It turns out that most of that fear was all in my head. I mean, sure, some people were curious I’m certain but nobody said anything to me.

After finishing our evenly-matched game, we advanced to the net to tap paddles. One of the guys praised me for how well I played, and how many great shots I had made. I returned similar compliments to the three of them about their individual games. And then, unprompted, as I typically would do, I began explaining the situation with my legs and my disability. Looking back now, I noticed that is something I did to hopefully explain, and cover up for, any mistakes or the way I sometimes hobble getting to certain balls. If I brought it up first, they wouldn’t have to and I could cut it off at the pass. I think it really was just a strategy to have somebody express empathy towards me and my situation. A yearning for a little bit of sympathy mixed with being impressed I guess. For those of you that play with an ailment or a disability, I think you know what I mean.

Since it was a new thing for me, I also explained that I had just barely started wearing shorts for the first time in my life in years. At age 51, mind you. Before then, I would only wear shorts on vacation or when I was with my wife and kids. And even then, I was always quick to put on pants whenever I could.

I could tell one of the guys was locked into my story. He mentioned that he had stomach surgery many years ago, and that he was terrified as well to ever be at a swimming pool or the beach without a shirt on. He shared a bit of his story and how he overcame it, but that he still struggled a bit to be shirtless in public. And then, standing there across the net, he lifted up his shirt so I could see what he was talking about. Wow. I had never felt more Seen in my life than with a stranger who was now involved in a shared reality with me. He got it. And I got him. We didn’t have to say anything else.

We switched partners and played a couple more games and then we took a group photo together. I pulled him aside and asked if he’d be willing to take a selfie with me. A picture of me and my legs and him with his shirt pulled up. And then I said that on days when either of us were feeling vulnerable, scared, or insecure again—which was certainly sure to happen— that we could pull this photo up as a reminder that we now know somebody who shares a similar experience. Who Sees us and Gets us. And that perhaps this picture would embolden us to carry on exactly the way we are.

I didn’t expect to find my people when I stepped on a Pickleball court for the first time years ago. We all have a story to share and you just never know who you’re going to meet that may want to hear it and be inspired by it. If life has taught me anything, it’s that we are all alike more than we are different.

Daniel Singer and "His People" at the Pickleball Club.

About the Author

Daniel Singer is a senior designer at Pickleball Central and a certified relationship coach. He is an avid pickleball player and plays with a rare disease called Charcot-Marie-Tooth. He resides in Orem, Utah.