When you are ready to die, try Pickle Ball.
For those of you who don’t know Pickle Ball, stay far away from that bullshit. It combines the skills of ping-pong, with the fancy “equipment” of a barbecue “pit” at a trailer park.
Cornhole is more competitive and played by much more intelligent people than you will ever see on a Pickle Ball court.
The fucking Pickle Ball net is a piece of shit thin metal tube with plastic lining. I know you can get them for half price at the dollar store. If you pick it up by a “post” it immediately falls apart. If you pick it up in the middle, shit falls off and it bends like you hung 10 pounds from a wire shirt hanger.
They play with cheap-ass paddles that make awful thwacking sounds that echo into your fillings and rattle around your sinuses.
They call it a ball sport, but it’s a hollow fucking piece of plastic that is more easter egg than “ball”.
Years ago, it started in retirement communities. The average age of most Pickle Ballers was about 80. Now when I look over, they are gathering young people to play. Those douchebags should be sent to re-education camps. Get that fucking pickle out of your mouth and pick up a tennis racquet. Save the Pickle Ball for after the dentist has pulled all your teeth.
Every place I play tennis, the octogenians steal at least one tennis court to make 4 Pickle Ball courts. They haven’t earned those courts by organizing the game, certifying thousands of coaches, teaching tons of people and convincing every private club and town to build courts. Tennis has been doing that since 1890.
Pickle Ballers just drop their cheap-ass nets, paint some fucked up blue lines and take our tennis courts like they are the fucking zombie pirates from a Disney movie.
If you are forced to witness a Pickle Ball game, it’s 15 minutes of talking and debating for every 30 seconds of play. And jesus christ, they can’t hear each other because they turn down their hearing aids to block those god awful thwacking sounds. They spend the whole match “screaming” at each other because no one can hear shit.
And they can’t remember shit either — especially the score… Every game is like taking your senile uncle to lunch. “Where are we?”
With the smaller court and slower “ball”, every tennis player knows that’s where we will eventually be exiled.
When the “younger” tennis assholes hit every drop shot for a winner and snicker (or shout “Condo” for some fucked-up reason) — we will be forced to do the shuffle of shame to the back courts… We will have to pick up a paddle and a fucking whiffle ball and wait for grim death to embrace what little is left of our non-existent souls.
So, long live tennis. And Fuck You Pickle Ball. I’ll walk on your shitty little courts right after I’m admitted to hospice.