I’ve been playing pickleball this summer with seven good friends. We are all nice ladies who send thank-you notes, help the needy, and refrain from burping and scratching in public. Pretty much.
But we are all too darn nice, polite, courteous and other-focused when it comes to sports. We have been conditioned not to be lionesses. In pickleball, you have to be a lioness!
My daughter Eden was the one who finally told me: “Mom, ix-nay on the orry-say. You say ‘I’m sorry’ to your partner every time you muff a shot. That gets you down on yourself! Don’t say you’re sorry – don’t even think it. Just tell yourself you’ll get the next one.”
Guru! She’s an experienced athlete. And she’s right.
So I made a “Sorry Jar.” If you say that hated word on the pickleball court, you have to plunk a quarter in the jar. At the end of the summer, we will have a margarita party. The “Sorry Jar” contents will offset at least some of the cost.
The first day, I didn’t say “sorry” a single time in 90 minutes of play. The second time, I had to plunk $1.75 in the jar! A few others have had to pay a few times. Some have already wiped the word completely out of their lexicon.
For me, it’s a learning curve in the game I’m crazy about. In real life, saying you’re sorry is almost always a good thing. But in pickleball, love means never having to say you’re sorry! †
For godly sorrow produces repentance
leading to salvation, not to be regretted;
but the sorrow of the world produces death.
—2 Corinthians 7:10
By Susan Darst Williams • 8/6/2020 • www.RadiantBeams.org • © 2020