Don Hardy (left) and Sandy Thiel team up for a game of doubles pickleball at Heart Mountain Hall in February. Thiel has been an avid pickleball player and advocate for the sport in Powell.

Tribune photo by Mark Davis

Mark Davis

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There are very few reasons to believe I am capable of learning from my mistakes.

Case in point: You’d think I would have learned years ago not to accept challenges to compete from the Tribune staff’s top athlete.

I’ll admit my memory has some leaks. It’s one of the worst aspects of growing old. Match that with my blind eye and two ears filled to the brim with wax, assorted mementos from past rock concerts, hunting trips and tractor excursions and its a wonder how I manage to get out of the house with everything I need for the day in two to three trips.

That said, I was so humiliatingly pummeled on the first such challenge from our resident jock, I should’ve remembered limping home with my ego barely intact. It was a charity bowling tournament. I eagerly agreed to join in “the fun” due to my vast experience on the lanes. I bowled in a league for several years in northwest Indiana and worked my average up to the 180s before moving on.

It had been 20-or-so years, but I figured it would be like riding a bike. Once you have it figured out, getting back on should be easy. This is probably an opportune time to remind readers how my last bicycle ride went; very poorly.

I ended up hitting the pavement with enough force to knock me senseless and added several scars to my collection. The worst indignity: I wasn’t able to zip up my own pants for days so I ended up taking two weeks personal time because Tribune employees weren’t keen on helping with the task.

I headed to that bowling tournament with confidence. Then reality set in. Evidently my tenpins experience was lost over the years. I was soundly thrashed 220 to 130-something. It was like I had never thrown a strike.

I remember feeling very old on my way back from Cody that night. I blame a lot of my failures on the ravages of time. Either that or I might be guilty of romanticizing memories of my success. But that was years ago.

I was approached by our jock dozens of times recently to try pickleball. I thought of it as a game for retirees. I’m not there yet, I told myself.

Then, after covering local enthusiasts’ fighting for an indoor facility in which to play, I became curious. Just so you know, curiosity is the first warning sign. Don’t believe me? Ask the cat.

It was too late. I’d already made a promise to play. I came to the Tuesday night event at Heart Mountain Hall with a couple cameras. I pulled them in with my wheeled suitcase because my back has been a mess.

But this group doesn’t want to hear about excuses. Some, in their 80s, are out there without complaint. So, after a lesson from Powell retiree Randy Burke, I was ready to face my athletic co-worker.

Despite a huge amount of respect for our jock/journalist, I was determined to even the score. I could tell by her sweet demeanor and kind tips on strategy, I had lulled her into a sense of complacency. This is where I exact my revenge, I told myself.

The score was close at first; Unfortunately, 0-0 was as close as I would get. For the next 15 minutes I was sent scrambling for the pickleball in many body-contorting and embarrassing ways.

On one attempt I ended up diving for the ball. In my minds eye, it was a galant attempt barely missed. In reality, I probably landed with the graces of a 225-pound bag of kibbles being thrown to the curb from the bed of a truck.

The game ended 11-5. It should be obvious at this point I was not on the winning side. Now it’s time to man up and salute the winner.

Congratulations Sandy Thiel!

Now three quarters of the way to 100, Sandy celebrated 50 years at the Powell Tribune this past September. She started here in 1972, when I was in the second grade at Louisa May Alcott Elementary School. She showed up to work the morning following our recent battle royale spunky and ready to go.

I carried a large bottle of Advil to work to go with my whine.

Sandy’s commitment to journalism and Powell is commendable. And her passion for sports is amazing. Pickleball transforms senior players into youngsters.

They laugh and joke like children on a playground. And they are serious — sometimes vicious — competitors when the ball is in play. No wonder the group has been so adamant that play continue, rain or shine and especially through the winter. Pickleball is a blast and competing is good for the soul no matter how old you are.

They have written letters, made calls and eventually politely marched into meetings and public hearings to face politicians, requesting court time. And now they are extending an invitation to those in the area wanting to play.

Just be stocked up on Advil and check your ego at the door if you decide to join the fun.