Apodaca: An upstart game challenges a more traditional sport

I am spending the first few weeks of the new year recovering from hip replacement surgery. It’s my second trip to this rodeo, so I was acquainted with the pre-op protocol and the need to provide excruciating detail about my life circumstances and health history before my date with the surgeon.

At one point during a screening call with a nurse, however, I was taken aback. “What activity are you most looking forward to resuming after you’ve recovered?” she asked.

I stumbled over my answer, mumbling something about there being so many things I’d like to get back to doing. “Pick just one,” she ordered, in a tone that suggested she had been through this list of questions countless times and just needed an answer, any answer, and quickly, so she could wrap up this call and get on to the next.

“Tennis,” I blurted out.

And there it was. The truth. I prefer tennis over pickleball. There, I said it.

Not that I don’t enjoy pickleball. I very much like to play the trendy tennis-badminton-ping-pong hybrid, as do millions of other Americans.

But there’s trouble brewing on the courts, and the tension is impossible to ignore.

In case you haven’t heard by now, pickleball is the nation’s newest obsession, the fastest-growing sport by a mile, enjoyed by kids and septuagenarians alike. Yet, despite its recent image as the insanely popular new kid on the block, pickleball has actually been around for a while. It was developed by a trio of dads on Bainbridge Island in Washington state in 1965. There are many versions of the origin of the weird name they gave it; suffice it to say that it’s doubtful they envisioned a global phenomenon at the time.

But phenomenon it now is.

By late last year a commonly cited statistic was that there were 36.5 million pickleball players in the U.S., and the organization USA Pickleball has counted 50,000 courts nationwide to date — numbers that are on a continual upward trajectory. There’s constant talk about ways to boost access and to enhance pickleball’s legitimacy as the real deal in the sports world. Olympics here it comes.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Pickleball is a terrific activity. It’s fun for all age groups, the entry bar is relatively low, it gets people moving and it’s endearingly social. Lighthearted stories abound of 70-something grandmas wiping the court with the likes of buff 30-year-olds.

Unfortunately, pickleball’s growth so far has come in large measure at the expense of tennis.

Just look at how this has played out here in Orange County. Pickleball courts are appearing all over the place — in parks, private communities and sports facilities. Tennis courts, which eat up four times as much space, are being converted to pickleball courts at a breathtaking pace, and many clubs once devoted solely to tennis are now increasingly dominated by the newer rival.

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My former racquet club in Newport Beach is a case in point. It once boasted about two dozen tennis courts. Fewer than half have survived; they’ve been swallowed by more than 30 pickleball courts. The ratio will likely continue to grow more lopsided in pickleball’s favor.

There have been other factors that have added to the pickleball controversy. For one, it’s noisy. Not everyone is charmed by the constant paddle-whacking sound reverberating through their neighborhoods.

What’s more, there have been complaints that some players are borderline obsessed, and their friends wish they’d stop talking about pickleball all the time. Also — this point matters a lot to me — tennis outfits are cute, whereas I’m not sure pickleball has landed on its own distinct look quite yet. Hats that say “Dink Responsibly” don’t count as a unique fashion statement.

But amid the negative buzz, it’s the tennis rivalry that has stirred the most resentment.

It’s paddle vs. racket. Fuzz vs. whiffle. Thwack vs. thwump. One puzzling scoring system vs. another. A centuries-old pastime steeped in tradition vs. a goofy-sounding upstart.

I have tried to present myself as the equivalent of Switzerland when it comes to the tennis-pickleball clash. Even though I consider tennis my first and most enduring love, I don’t care to take sides, and have repeatedly professed my affection for both sports. Can’t we all just get along and figure out a way to coexist peacefully without one sport destined to be the conqueror and the other doomed to eventual extinction?

After all, tennis has enough problems on its own. U.S. participation in tennis has suffered over the decades. Although it has bounced back a little in recent years, it remains vulnerable. It’s fair to ask whether pickleball will be the final blow that puts tennis in a permanent coma.

I don’t think anyone who plays pickleball sees themself as a barbarian at the gate, on the verge of bringing down the tennis empire in all its faded glory. After all, picklers—that slang word has emerged as the preferred nomenclature for pickleball players—just want to have fun. The only victory they are after is on the court.

So I hope that someone smarter than me figures out how both sports can survive and thrive. Pickleball is great, I won’t argue that. But there’s no way I’m giving up on my first true love.