DALLAS, TX – I think this is a highly relatable experience.

Every rec player I know who plays pickleball just for fun likely heard about the sport from their parents. After all, pickleball began in retirement communities, so it’s no surprise that all of our folks and their parents found it first. 

The first time I played pickleball, I experienced that classic moment where my parents invited me to hit the court with all of their older friends.

I showed up confident as ever, assuming that my youth will lead me to victory.

But, that didn't happen. I was humbled quickly. 

My mom went easy on me at first, in the sweet way moms do, teaching me about scoring, the kitchen, and the dinking game. She played the soft game to help me get used to it. But when it was finally time to play my first match, she was out for blood.

My mom has a tennis background, so every time she geared up to swing her paddle, I nearly flinched because that power and speed was so formidable and unreturnable for a novice player like me.

And my dad is a ping pong superstar. His casual ease and perfect shot placement just out of my reach was textbook. Between the two of them, I was in a pickle. 

Our parents and grandparents are so much better at pickleball because they know strategy. They’re true students of the game who know exactly where to place the ball in the most inconvenient spots for their opponents, which is why they often aim at my feet or perfectly down the line.

I shouldn't be surprised about her skill, though, because she plays nearly every day and I spend the majority of my days writing and thinking about pickleball – and less time actually playing. Retired life, am I right? They have the time, unlike us.  

Fortunately, I've really been working on my game recently. I took a pickleball lesson, which built up my confidence. I was convinced I could not only hang with my mom on the court, but that I could actually beat her. Today will be the day.

Nope. We play and my mom whoops me. And she was going easy on me. She was hitting these beautiful drives right down the middle that were just fast enough for me to miss. Then, cross court dinking these pesky shots that were nearly impossible to return. 

Even scarier, her serves are getting faster. And she somehow manages to clear the net by a hair and leaves me diving to return like I’m on the softball field instead.

Maybe one day I’ll get better than my parents at pickleball, but if I’m going to lose to anyone, at least it’s my mom. I’d rather have her on my team than on the opposition because she's fierce. 

Will the pickleball torch ever be passed from one generation to the next? When will I become the better player? Perhaps after a couple of kids and I retire, then I’ll become a pro.