I went in with Denny to his dermatology appointment then I took the Rav to Carroll for an oil change. The tire sensor came on and when I paid the bill Amy said the sensor was going bad and when One goes bed usually all 4 go bad ... to the tune of $160 for each of the 4 to replace. Uffda!!I came home thru Sac City and found a love seat at a second hand store that might work for the sunroom. Lord, guide. the guys got the engine removed from the car and put on our truck bed to take to Rods's. We didn't have time enough to get the love seat at Sac City, I plan on it for next week, But none of us are good carriers to put it on the truck bed. Lord, help.
The Psychology of Pickleball: Why We’re All Addicted (and Proud of It)
When we were kids, play was our natural state. We ran, climbed, chased, giggled, scraped our knees, and waited for the street lights to come on or begged for five more minutes before coming inside. Then life happened. We grew up, got degrees, got jobs, got mortgages, got responsible. Somewhere between college applications and 401(k)s, play quietly packed up and left the building and the saddest part is, it happened while we weren’t looking. None of us even noticed it was gone. But then came pickleball. And suddenly, we’re playing again. At its core, pickleball hits all the right psychological buttons. It’s movement, connection, and challenge all wrapped in laughter and plastic wiffle-ball chaos. It gives us a dopamine hit every time we win a point, a serotonin boost when we laugh with friends, and something even deeper—it taps into one of Maslow’s most fundamental human needs: belonging. In Maslow’s hierarchy, once we’ve met our basic survival needs—food, safety, shelter—what we crave most is connection. We want to feel seen, valued, and part of something bigger than ourselves. Pickleball checks every one of those boxes. It’s not just a sport—it’s a social ecosystem where strangers become partners, partners become friends, and friends become family. It’s our adult version of recess, only now recess comes with a post-match margarita. Pickleball has done something remarkable, it’s brought every cross-section of life onto the same court. White collar meets blue collar. Republican dinks with Democrat. Gay, straight, young, old, retired, still figuring it out, everyone’s welcome. No uniforms, no hierarchy, just paddles, laughter, and questionable line calls. It’s one of the few places left where connection beats comparison. We’re addicted, yes, but not just to the game. We’re addicted to the culture it’s created. We belong. We’re part of something. Our friend groups are growing instead of shrinking. Games turn into coffee, into happy hour, into lifelong friendships. Pickleball has become an extension of our backyard—an open invitation to connect, play, and be seen. The last time most of us were surrounded by such a diverse mix of people was back in college or university, when the campus population drew from every corner of the world. But even then, those connections existed mostly on a horizontal axis—people our own age, walking similar paths. Pickleball has added a vertical axis to that social map, bridging generations, professions, and perspectives in a way no other sport truly has. It’s not just diversity on paper, it’s diversity in motion, playing side by side, point by point. As adults, our social circles tend to get smaller. But pickleball has flipped that script. We’re meeting new people, laughing with strangers, finding our tribe. How many people in your phone now have “Pickleball” as their first or last name? Exactly. Pickleball didn’t just bring us a new sport, it gave us permission to play again. To show up without agenda. To laugh until our cheeks hurt. To remember that the best parts of life don’t happen in boardrooms or inboxes. They happen on courts, surrounded by people who now feel like family. And that, my friends, is why we’re all beautifully, unapologetically addicted. There would be a lot more joy in the world if more people played pickleball!
