This is an expanded version of a post I made on facebook and TikTok earlier this week…
I just took a friend to play pickleball for the first time at a drop-in gym session at a YMCA in a small town in the winter in Canada. My friend had no racquet sports background but was eager to have fun and learn to play. I called the community centre earlier in the morning to ask about times for PB. They told me there was no pickleball today but there was open gym time which meant it was to be used however people wanted. I asked what the chances were that we could put out a pickleball net in part of the gym to play. The person on the phone assured me that it would be fine – the gym was a large space.
When I arrived, I noticed that the gym was indeed pretty big, and was separated by hanging dividers. One part of the gym was being used by some teenagers shooting hoops. One part of the gym was a bunch of little kids and their parents setting up for a birthday party. And one part of the gym (about half of the total space) were people playing pickleball! They had space for three courts and all were being used by a variety of novice and intermediate players.
After peeking in, I thought that this would be a pretty good chance for my friend to get started. People seemed friendly, and the games were quite recreational. I wanted to give her a head start and be considerate of the others, so we went back to where the teenagers were playing basketball and asked if we rallied a little well out of their way. They had no problem.
I have a fair bit of experience coaching and love working with beginners. My friend was rallying right away, hitting volleys and learning some basic rules (2 bounce, NVZ, etc.). She was doing great! It was time to play!
My plan was to have my friend watch a game of two first, just to get a little more familiar with the rhythm of things. But as we walked past the birthday party we were instantly greeted by some of the friendly seniors on the court. I asked if they accepted new people and they laughed at the absurdity of my question and said of course! In fact, the first court was open and we should go straight out!
We were joined by two very nice people – a man and a woman. My friend said this was her first time playing and they made her feel great. They hit to her, but mostly pretty friendly balls. They let her redo a couple serves after she missed them. We had a great time!
Now I had never played at this gym before – I was passing through town for work – so I was also a new face. Predictably, they wondered where I came from. I explained that I coach for a living and that I was grateful they let us join. Given how small this community is, they don’t have a lot of expert players come through and I think they enjoyed it.
Our game ended and it looked like things were wrapping up – two of the nets had already been put away. But someone asked if we wanted to play some more. The nice woman we had just played with did, and so did another man, let’s call him Bob.
It was clear that Bob saw himself as a big fish around these parts and he was all business right off the bat. No questions about who we were or where we were from – Bob didn’t have time for that! The only reason I know his name is because I asked him.
Bob served with an effective yet unorthodox backhand drop serve (lots of spin!). His first serve came in hot and my friend barely touched it. I thought: Oh, Bob doesn’t yet realize my friend is brand new. He wouldn’t have served at her like that if he had known”. After a couple points we got the ball. I hit a serve that landed six inches inside the centreline. Bob returned it to the bottom of the net and proceeded to call my serve out. This is when I realized what Bob was about.
After his first serve to my friend I gave Bob the benefit of the doubt – I assumed he just didn’t realize that she was a weak player – far below his skill level. But Bob did know, and he proceeded to hit every ball he could get his paddle on at my friend. And not just hit toward her, but hit the kinds of shots she had virtually no chance to make. He even advised his partner to do the same.
At this point I couldn’t help but laugh. If my friend popped up a high ball and he smashed it down at her feet for a winner, I gave him a sarcastic “Great shot Bob!”. He kept using that hard low slice of a serve against my friend – “Wow Bob. Great serve, Bob!”. Did me friend hit a short return of serve – boom! A hard drive right past her!
The game was over in less than 10 minutes. We tapped paddles and I assumed Bob would move on. Imagine my shock when he suggested we play another game. I wrongly assumed that Bob would be done with us – well, with my friend – but no, he wanted more! Ok, Bob. Let’s play one more.
Now I don’t know for certain, but I’d be willing to bet quite a lot that Bob is the kind of guy who says stuff like: “You only get better by playing with better players” and “If you want to get better you should hit to the stronger opponent”. But then, like a coward, picks on the weakest player to serve his own ego. I decided that I wasn’t going to let Bob get away with this.
When it comes to rec play, I’m not one to do much poaching. I think of my mom who measured how much fun she had at pickleball by how many times she touched the ball. A partner who poached – even if they hit a great shot – was someone who “stole” her ball and therefore her fun. As a default, I assume in a rec setting that most players are the same. But in this case, the only way Bob would learn a lesson is with a little poaching.
So that’s what I did. Balls that I’d previously let go to my friend I now intercepted. And that poaching also drew more balls actually to me as Bob tried to go behind me to avoid the poach. I worried my friend might be unhappy with the change, since she wasn’t hitting (or at least trying to hit) as many balls as before. But after Bob took yet another ball off the hand, the look in her eye when she said “Ooh. Bob didn’t like that!” told me she was just fine with a little poaching.
My friend and I went on to win the game. We tapped paddles and as I was chatting with our other opponent, Bob silently started dragging the net away. I guess he decided that if he was done playing, we were all done! Bob walked away without saying another word.
I don’t intend this article to be only about shaming Bob for his behaviour. All of the other people I met that day were incredibly gracious and welcoming of me and my friend. They played for fun and that seemed to involve everyone on the court enjoying themselves. I told my friend afterward that our first game, the one before Bob joined us, was in my experience what local pickleball is usually like; people building a community around a game they love, and making others feel welcome and included. I think my friend understood that.
On our way out the door, my friend asked me where she could get her own paddle. Apparently she had already exchanged numbers with one of the women there and was planning to go back the next day. Hearing that made me feel great – and made it worth the effort to put up with Bob.
By Mark Renneson
