Last week, my wife joined a cult. It’s probably the only cult that’s considered hip to join these days. It’s estimated that over 24 million people belong to it, and they have 68,000 “churches” in North America. Only the Catholic Church has more members. They groomed her, lured her with peer pressure. And now, my wife plays pickleball.
Pickleball has taken over America. This is actually good for the commercial real estate industry, which is fast and furiously turning abandoned stores and warehouses into pickleball clubs. The number of converts to Pickleballism is up 300% in the last three years.
If you’re unsure, pickleball is similar to tennis, but smaller. Smaller racquet. Smaller court. Smaller time from trying it once to all-out obsession. There are, however, no pickles involved. This is a sport that loves food terminology but doesn’t actually involve any food. For example, they use terms like falafels (weak shots) and pancakes (scoop shots), not to mention the elusive pickle itself. The non-volley zone near the net is even called the kitchen!
I think that’s why they win so many converts. They think if they play long enough, there will be food. Which is why there’s a new restaurant chain called Chicken N Pickle that serves you guessed it —chicken in between games of pickleball.
So, it’s only a matter of time before I get swept up in the cult as well. I’ll have to buy new clothes. I’ll need pickleball shoes. I’ll have to learn pickleball hymns (if those exist). I’ll need a racquet and a doctor on speed dial. However, we’re talking about me now. So the likelihood that I will break one of the cult rules and be branded a pickleball heretic is pretty high. I’ll keep you posted.
Carry on, Citizens!
