
Every year when the US Open rolls around, I get a little nostalgic for tennis.
I can play pickleball several times a week and spend far too much time thinking about paddles, strategy and whatever part of my game happens to be failing me that month. Pickleball has become my sport.
Then I watch the US Open.
And I remember.
Tennis is a beautiful game.
Something about the movement of a great tennis player that pickleball simply cannot replicate. The court is bigger. Points can develop slowly and then explode. Covering that much ground for hours at a time takes a physical commitment.
Tennis still has a little elegance.
I don’t mean that as an insult to pickleball. I love pickleball.
But nobody has ever called Tuesday night pickleball open play elegant.
And that’s OK.
In fact, I think one of the biggest mistakes we can make as pickleball grows is believing tennis somehow needs to lose for pickleball to win.
It doesn’t.