FROM PUT-DOWNS TO PUTAWAYS: REC-CONCILIATION

Pickleball has taught me a lot about myself and it’s one of my favorite things about the sport. More than just shots, skills, and how to better my game, I use the court as a dojo of sorts where I learn about how I show up in all aspects of my life, because I’ve learned that people are pretty consistent in how they act no matter the circumstances.

A couple months ago, I joined a foursome on GroupMe to play for a couple hours at my local club. I only recognized one of the other players in the thread but knew since we were all the same level, it would be a couple hours of fun games.

My club has large windows in the lobby that give a view onto the 15 courts inside. When I walked into the club, I was instantly agitated as I recognized one of the other players that was warming up on the court. I hesitated at the check-in desk and considered texting the group chat that something had come up and I couldn’t make it. Instantly, I panicked at what to do. None of them had seen me in the lobby as they were busy dinking and I could easily walk out unnoticed. And yet, there was nobody else playing at the club at this time. Dang it. If I left, they wouldn’t be able to play doubles, and I would be the cause of it. I was in a tough spot and my nervous system was already activated.

Rewind about a year and a half ago. This new guy, Dave, and I had a pretty heated altercation after playing against each other. I can’t remember all of the details that lead up to it, but we both exchanged a few hurtful insults towards one another in our anger and frustration. He had attacked my game and referenced the way I sometimes stumble, which is a symptom of my disability. Oof, did that one sting. I can’t even remember the last time I was that mad. I could feel the rage pulse through my entire body.

My disability is the one place where I feel the most vulnerable because I can’t do anything about it—I can only manage it the best I can. You see, I was a successful athlete in my youth, until my legs started to atrophy during my senior year of high school. It’s been a journey learning how to play my favorite sport with the mind of an athlete, but in a body with limited mobility. This is a very tender part of me and he struck a nerve and I retaliated.

After all of the many years of relational and healing work I had done on myself, I instantly found myself in a bit of a shame cycle because I knew that this was not the kind of person I wanted to be. I even remember telling my girlfriend at the time how it scared me to know that I could lash out at someone like that so quickly.

I had seen Dave a couple times since then at the club and would always be reminded of the irritation I had towards him and the exchange we had. I would even walk the long way around courts to avoid passing him in the walkway, mumbling under my breath how much of a jerk he was.

So, when I saw him on our court, I was already in my head about how this was going to go. I mean, after all, I was going to have to play a couple games with him as my partner. In the back of my mind, I wanted to reconcile somehow, but I wasn’t sure how this could be possible. I realized quickly that I was in a place of CHOICE. I could pretend like this never happened and avoid it altogether, or I could do the right thing and own my part and repair what happened and apologize. I believe there is no timeline for these types of conversations.

With choice in front of me, I started to create a story that maybe he even forgot about our incident or perhaps didn’t even recognize me. Yeah right. I’m a 6 foot 4 redheaded man with skinny legs. I don’t really blend in to my environment if you know what I mean.

The first two games were played against him. I forgot how good of a player he was. We both hit great shots against each other. Now it was time to mix up the teams. And he was my next partner. Crap. As is custom in pickleball, we tapped paddles and started playing. We did fine together all things considered and went about our business doing what we both knew how to do.

After the first game, we went back to the bench to hydrate. He apologized for a few missed shots and mentioned to me that he was having some issues with his lower back and his legs and how they were starting to tingle as they usually do when he plays. He then referenced in the kindest way that he knew there was something I struggled with too, with my legs. Wait. What was happening? This is the guy that I wanted to get in a fistfight with a couple months earlier. I hated this guy. Or did I?

Interestingly, I found myself wanting to avoid talking about the altercation we had back then because everything seemed to be OK at this point. After all, we were talking just like l do with my other pickleball friends. But the elephant in the room was still there.

And I strongly believe in conflict repair, and I’m pretty skilled in it thanks to my mentor. I knew I needed to clean up my side of the road, no matter how long it had been since our conflict. And my integrity was in question at this point. All the feelings came up. I felt fear. Clumsiness. Awkwardness. But I no longer wanted to feel guilt. And I knew I couldn't pretend like this never happened. So after a short pause in our conversation, I went for it.

"Dave, I'm sure you remember the altercation we had a year and a half or so ago over on Court 7."

He did but didn't quite remember the details.

"I just wanted to own my part in that exchange. I didn't know you. I was frustrated at losing. And as a newcomer to the club, I'm sure that impacted you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry for the way I acted and for what I said. That was not the version of me that I am trying to be wherever I am in life. Please forgive me."

He appreciated this conversation and said that he has seen me a few times at the club as well and has thought about our sour exchange. I asked if we could take a selfie together to remember this moment of reconciliation. He agreed. We both apologized to one another and headed back to the court to play our second game together.

But this time as friends.