Pickleballin’: Other sports can’t compare to the world’s greatest sport*

*This opinion piece is satirical

No, Grandma, it’s not too late to pick up the greatest sport of all time. 

Athletes of all ages and skill levels should quit their current sport to play pickleball full-time. Throw out your basketballs, baseball bat and cleats — the only equipment you need to stay trendy while enjoying maximum benefits are paddles and perforated balls.

You aren’t cool if you don’t participate in pickleball-mania. Especially here in Overland Park, the most “pickleball-obsessed” city in the country by a U.S. Census data study. Courts are sprouting up around the city faster than hipster coffee shops. As co-president of Pickleball Club, I’m here to indoctrinate more members. 

Everyone who has been pretending to like tennis can stop. The 22 public tennis courts within 15 minutes of East finally have a higher purpose to serve: make-shift pickleball play using the service box as a boundary line. 

Pickleball’s versatility means you can play anywhere — your driveway, basketball courts, your enemy’s rooftop, the moon. Find a quiet street, paint lines and upgrade it into a permanent pickleball avenue.

The rules are simple: get the ball over the net and inside the boundary lines. An industrial-sized fan pointed in the right direction or a correctly-timed gust of wind can play for you. If you could color inside the lines in kindergarten, you’re on track to become the next pickleball world champion.

While you’re at it, forget offsides and overtime. Forget wasting brain cells deciphering scoring in secret code: say goodbye to “40-love” and hello to “1-2 points.” 

Hallelujah! Winning one point adds one point to your score! Not six points plus a field goal or three points if you’re behind a magical basketball line!

It’s easy to become a pickleball powerhouse. You can run your friends into the ground simply by practicing one or two times more than them. The art of pickleball relies mostly on walking (sometimes *gasp*  jogging) instead of years of agility drills. Maybe you can’t juke out your best friend who’s been playing soccer since they could walk, but you can slaughter them in pickleball.

You don’t even have to be fast — the court is only 20 by 22 feet, so one giant step and you’ve cleared the court and are halfway to St. Louis. Roll out a picnic blanket and charcuterie board for a picnic and you could still return most shots from criss-cross applesauce — while finishing lunch.

The petite courts also promote mid-game chit-chat. Imagine that! Assuming football players could talk coherently through their massive helmets — they can’t — it’s not like they have extra time to recap their weekend while ramming into 200-pound linebackers. 

But pickleball? Debrief a year’s worth of gossip with your doubles partner without losing your breath and still close out three solid sets.

While playing your new favorite sport, there’s no need to worry about hospital visits even after a particularly heated match. Pickleball’s biggest physical risks are stubbing your toe on the net while switching sides (unlikely) or being flash-mobbed by adoring pickleball fans (much more likely). 

And don’t bother lifting weights to master your sport. Pickleballs are l-i-g-h-t — less than the weight of a pencil at just two-thirds of an ounce. Catch the wind just right and chuck the spherical scrap of plastic from East to Arrowhead Stadium for an easy warm-up.

I’ve personally wasted ten years playing the wrong sport on the tennis court, pickleball’s more pretentious and less enjoyable cousin. If I’d swapped tennis academy sprinting drills for light pickleball rallies with friends, I’d have D1 pickleball offers and a full-ride scholarship by now. Enroll your kids in pickleball lessons ASAP to raise a rare pickle in a sea of basic football, basketball, soccer and tennis players.

Go kidnap some friends and take them to play pickleball — they’ll be hooked and you’ll get the honorific of pickleball trend-setter. I was skeptical at first. Then, less than a year after picking up a paddle, I became co-president of Pickleball Club and sold “I LOVE PICKLEBALL” sweatshirts to 50 students. No, I’m not kidding, and yes, that will be you soon.

It’s a miracle, a gift from the gods of racquet sports. We don’t need fancy equipment, years of training or flawless technique to enjoy competition anymore. Pickleball to the rescue.