The Journey Inward

Somehow my brother had missed the craze,
despite being athletic and loving sports.
But his daughter visiting from San Diego
brought it to him and he liked it.

I arrived Friday night,
and after dinner he asked if I wanted to go play.
I keep a set in my car, so off we went
to some well lit courts by him.

We had to wait a bit because,
well, because pickleball.
But then a young couple,
teenagers,
invited us to play doubles.

We hit with them for almost an hour,
enjoying their enthusiasm
for the sport learned in gym class (!)
and playing gently for the girlfriend,
who giggled as she learned.

The boy suggested a game,
and we began playing in earnest,
keeping score and following rules.
Not 10 minutes into our game,
the lights went out suddenly and completely!
10:00 was apparently Lights Out!

Having been bitten by the bug
of pick up games,
the weekend found us back at the courts
whenever we could slip away,
playing with young people,
who were either too new,
or too kind, to realize
that if they ran these two old timers,
with their bad knees, around,
they might best us.

My brother was hooked
and quickly overtook me in skill. 

Another pickleball convert.