Earlier this summer, my wife and I decided to take our love for pickleball to the next level by entering a local tournament. Although we play a lot of pickleball, we had never participated in a competitive event like this before.
When we arrived, the person checking people in was an old neighbor, and she quickly pointed out we were in the wrong bracket. She thought we should be in a higher bracket, but it was too late. We had signed up for the only one with openings, and since it was our first go-around, we were still determining how it would go.
Our first opponent was a father-daughter team. Both were good, although I would say the father was about a generation older than us—likely about 70. It was a competitive game, and they quickly jumped out to a significant lead. But I got upset, and we ran off nine straight points and won 11-6. It was clear if we were in the wrong bracket, so was the daughter in the father-daughter duo.
We played five more games and won each handily, proving our old neighbor was right despite being the second and third oldest people in the tournament.
Our seventh game would be the championship game. Our opponent would be the father-daughter team we played in our first game.
Given the results of our first game, we would be heavy favorites. However, I doubt any betting lines are placed on recreation-level pickleball in Lincoln, Nebraska. After two hours in the ninety-degree Nebraska sun, the father was much more tired than he started.
When the game started, the daughter tended to slide toward the middle of the court to compensate for what she perceived as a need to help the time. In this game, we held them to two points. All but two of our points were scored the same way: I slammed the ball to the spot on the court the daughter should have been covering had she not moved over to help. The father made all the shots that went to him. He didn’t seem to need help.
We won not because the weaker player played poorly but because the stronger player was out of position. I have no idea if the daughter had taken it upon herself to overcompensate for the father or if he had asked for help.
We picked up our medals, posed for photos, and talked to the dad. He said “next time, I will give you a better game”. I told him not to worry; we had fun, and that is what we came to do. But in the car on the way home, Sue and I talked about how we had just gotten a lesson in trying too hard. The daughter’s trying to cover for her dad left her out of place and unable to do her job. She was good, but she couldn’t play for two people. They had done better in the first game when they each did their job.
It demonstrated how your team won’t win if you don’t do your job. It isn’t about being selfish and thinking of yourself first. But are you not covering your space and doing your things correctly? It is impossible to pin the team’s loss on somebody else. This experience underscored the crucial role of teamwork in our victory.