This morning was another pickleball one. A neighboring senior center offered a clinic two weeks ago in the gym of a defunct school and even though my friend and I have already been playing for a few years, we went to check out the venue and perhaps meet more people to play with.

          As it turned out, I felt as though I had a doctorate in the game, while most everyone else was pretty much in pre-school. But today, like last week, we broke into groups to play and everyone improved tremendously with practice. Of our group of 6, 4 played and for the first game my friend and I stayed by the edge of play to point out which balls were out, and whose turn it was to serve.

 The one guy in our group – slim, mid-60s? - apparently never had played a sport of any description – ever. His hand-eye coordination proved that, but his enthusiasm made up for it. His partner, who looks like she runs marathons, perhaps 50 something, is going to shape up into a good player. On the other side of the court, one woman – late 60s?- began unable to return the ball but then learned to judge distance and speed, and gained confidence as the game wore on. Her partner, a very pretty 50-something and an incredibly nice, bubbly sort, was obviously a seasoned tennis player. She’s going to be a force to be reckoned with in no time.

So much fun. It didn’t hurt that I’m modestly skilled but with lots of experience, making me feel like a professional. Not bad for the ego.

 

As I wrote yesterday, we were fortunate then to play with people not too far advanced from our level and we had a good day.

However, my friend reminded me today of a comment we heard then as we exited our court. A man was sitting, waiting to play, and as we walked by, he said, “Bingo at 11!”

I was too dense to get it. Was he talking about a dog? Someone he knew?

I just walked on by.

My friend however, realized this was an ageism crack and stopped to reply, “Was that a joke or an insult?”

He back-pedaled like his life depended on it. “Oh, no! Um ah, um ah. . .I’ve played Bingo. I’m in my 60s. . . .yada, yada.”

Arrogant slimeball. 

He better hope he’s playing pickleball when he’s my age.