Why I Loved Summer Paddle

Vicki Huestis
October 4, 2012
Swarthmore, PA

It’s October, the leaves are starting to turn, the kids have returned to school and interclub platform tennis practice has begun.  What could be better, right?  Well, honestly?  Summer paddle.   That’s right.  I bit Viking’s big marketing apple and bought some low-bounce summer balls this May.  I made a couple of calls—three to be exact—and got myself a regular paddle gig.  Six weeks.   From mid-June to late-July.  Two hours of paddle.  Every Thursday night.  It was awesome.

(l-r) Diana Campbell, Vicky Huestis, Katie Crawford and Donna Painter

The funny thing is I didn’t really realize how awesome it would be.  I mean, I kind of like the regular season.  OK.  I kind of LOVE the regular season and even though I hate putting down my paddle at the end of April, there are lots of other things I look forward to doing in the summer months.  But those low bounce balls appeared and suddenly I had this wicked thought, “What if I could do all the things I love doing in the summer AND play paddle?”  I’ve always been a sucker for the “have your cake and eat it, too” line of thinking so I went out that first Thursday evening with little guilt.  We were playing paddle in June.  I had the feeling we were in for some serious fun.

What exactly is it that made summer paddle so great? Well, let’s start with the clothing. In winter, on the court, most of us are swaddled in layers.  I’m usually in for a couple of fleeces, a goofy woolen hat and those “why am I wearing these” type gloves.  If I can nimbly move on the court it’s only because I’m extremely determined to, but, I can tell you, it’s not easy.  In summer paddle?  It’s easy.  I mean, what are you wearing?  A t-shirt and shorts?  A tennis skirt, maybe? (My one partner, Diana, wore a fashionable tennis dress every Thursday.  She DRESSED for us.  We didn’t talk about it, didn’t let it affect the “seriousness” of our play, but when she showed up one evening in her best Serena Williams black cat suit, we definitely took notice.) Gosh.  I think there were even a couple of evenings I would’ve worn a bathing suit, sort of like those Olympic beach volleyball women do.  After all, we were playing on a private court deep in the woods.  It was all women out there.  And the Philly heat and humidity gets pretty brutal.  Luckily, always-dressed Diana was quick to point out that we weren’t exactly Olympians, the court’s surface was hard grit, not sand, and donning small bikinis, regardless of privacy and gender, would definitely go against some middle-aged paddle sensibility.

But that’s just it, I think. The absence of most of that middle-aged paddle sensibility is precisely what made our summer matches so much fun.  We were always competitive—none of us wanted to lose—but a loss didn’t hurt as much in June as it does in January so we’d try things we’d never allow ourselves to try during the season.  Drive off the wire when it’s not a high percentage shot?  Why not?  Rush the net on your serve even though you’re known for your marshmallows?  Sure!  Laugh after a long fought, hard earned point?  Or after someone’s done something...well...maybe a little less than perfect? Laugh after just about anything?  You bet.  There was a lot of laughter on the court this summer so the games had a natural, almost carefree, feel to them.  There were many Thursday nights when, after all was said and done, when we were tired and sweaty and sharing a good, cold frosty with each other (the greatest paddle tradition of all, by the way) that I had to remind myself I WAS middle aged.  I honestly felt like a kid!  How great is that?

After my first interclub practice this season, when my quads were tight and I was remembering that it’s not ok to drink a beer at 11am and I was kind of going over in my head all the shots and dedication and focus it would take to have a winning season, the old “have your cake and eat it, too” thought made its way back into my tired, middle-aged brain. What if I brought some of the carefree fun of summer paddle to my regular paddle season?  What if I drove the ball just a little more?  Rushed the net when it felt right?  Laughed when I was having fun?  What if, under all my winter layers, I retained some of my inner, 13-year-old, summer self?  I snuck my bikini into the inside pocket of my paddle bag.  No one needs to know.