PROSPECT. PLAYER. PARTNER: MORE THAN A SITUATIONSHIP

My friend Dusty and I played in our local city’s celebration tournament last week. He’s become a good friend of mine since the day he showed up at our club. A newcomer to the sport, but a former athlete in many other sports, he was looking to figure out what Pickleball was all about. Gregarious and kind, Dusty had no problem making instant friends.

Over the last several months, we realized that we played really well together and were beating most of our organized group’s other pairings in doubles matches. Being the more athletic player on our team, he complements my mobility issues very well. Where my legs tend to get compromised on passing shots, sharp angled cross-court dinks, or lobs, he’s always in the right place to pick up the slack and keep us in the point. He’s encouraging, kind, and fun to be around.

When it comes to supporting each other as a playing partnership, is there anything better than that? And shouldn’t this level of support be the standard in all relationships? It certainly is for me.

Sometime after my divorce, I started dating in hopes of finding my next life partner. I was in my late 40s and not very hopeful about my future romantic life, especially after hearing from other divorced friends of the wild ride that dating post-divorce is. One of the things that really made me anxious was finding someone who could embrace my disability. I was terrified at the idea I would have to reveal my legs to a future partner. As such, I strategically avoided all dates where I would not have to do so: No hot tubs or pools. No hikes or pickleball in shorts. And if intimate connection ever happened, it would have to be in a very dimly-lit space.

When I met my current life partner, we had a discussion a few months in about things that we were anxious to reveal to each other. She didn’t like roller coasters and driving in big cities. Neither did I. When it was my turn to share, I was so in my head about it. I hesitantly shared my reality with her and figured this would be the dealbreaker. I was already mentally packing my bags and seeing our three months of solid connection as a good run.

She grabbed my hand, looked me in the eyes and said “What if I told you that I already knew this about you?“ I was surprised to hear this. She reminded me that when she was doing her due diligence when we first matched online, she had thoroughly reviewed my Instagram account. I had forgotten that I had posted about the reconciliation I had with my legs. Where I asked forgiveness of my legs for hiding them for so long. Where I expressed gratitude for all of the hikes and walks and places my legs had taken me. Where I had accepted my body for the way it was and had started wearing shorts to play pickleball after years of covering them up with sweat pants.

As tears streamed down my cheeks, I had never felt so Seen in my life. She accepted me exactly the way I was. My heart. My mind. My body. All of me. We have co-created a dynamic where we can share anything with each other. We listen to understand each other. We are gentle. We are kind. We are safe with one another. These are the perfect ingredients for a secure relationship and a dynamic that Dusty and I are committed to creating for our pickleball partnership.

During the tournament I had felt off energetically during most of our matches. Unexpected nerves kept me from playing my best. Despite such, Dusty and I were the number one seed coming out of pool play and had a bye in the playoffs. We ended up playing two of our good friends and losing to them, which put us in the bronze medal match. We were up for most of the game, and then fizzled out quite quickly. We ended up taking fourth place.

Over the years, I’ve played in a good handful of tournaments or attended them to watch my friends. In post-match conversations, I’ve noticed a tendency for one of the players to put the loss of their games onto their partner. It’s always a curious proposition to me to hear that one player is to blame for the lack of success of a partnership.

“Man, they struggled.”
“Peter really didn’t play great.”
“They choked so badly.”

I am a staunch believer that secure relationships are rooted in accountability that creates a culture of WE, not ME. In every relationship, each individual co-creates the dynamic. WE win together. WE lose together.

As soon as we tapped paddles with the bronze medal winners, Dusty said to me, “That was so fun. Let’s do it again!” I agreed, apologized for the flaws in my game, and told him I’d look at the next opportunities to play again.

As I’ve written about before, a majority of partnerships break up after a loss and look for other partners to play with. Dusty and I are committed to evaluating what went wrong, where we can improve going forward, and playing together again.

On the way home, I got a text from him.

“I need to learn to pull my head out the first five minutes of every game. I’m playing so timid when I know we can get eliminated. Our game works well together when your drop is on fire and I’m up playing aggressive for their pop-ups. I feel like there were a handful of times we were grooving but not like the other day when we played!”

After reading this, I felt such appreciation for a partnership where we both took accountability for our individual games. Nobody was being thrown under the bus. And I love how he pointed out that our system of me dropping and him attacking pop-ups is something that we went away from during our matches.

Healthy relationships require clear and kind communication, accountability, and a willingness to accept feedback on areas of improvement. Prioritize these and expect to level up in all areas of your life.

Now, go and find that perfect partner for you. And good luck on your next tournament!

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.