Chuck Hassler

The following is an excerpt from a dialogue I had with the Zen Master of Pickleball, who resides on a remote Himalayan peak amidst the clouds. I came as a pilgrim seeking knowledge and  enlightenment, specifically in regards to my pickleball game and the meaning of life. It has been edited for clarity. 

Me: Zen Master of all things pickleball thank you for agreeing to talk to me. 

Zen Master: That’s alright. You need lots of help. And pickleball can do that if your mind is right and you are attuned to your inner wiffle ball. But I don’t know about you pilgrim. Sometimes you’re a wild man on the court. 

Me: Let me start right in then. One of the things that’s frustrating to me is the realization that  the way I am by nature (volatile and maybe a little combative) is not the way you win pickleball  games. 

Zen Master: That’s correct grasshopper. You must rein it in, not pour gasoline on it. The way you win is keep things on the down low and wait for your opponent to make a mistake. To be  smooth and cool headed. To be proactive rather than reactive. To play within your abilities.  Me: it’s not in my nature to be very patient but it’s harder yet not to escalate. I am like a  pressure cooker. 

Zen Master: Grasshopper you really are the kind of pickleball pilgrim who needs to chill. That  means get ahold of yourself before you make a jackass out of yourself on the court! Me: It’s too late for that sensei. I already do that every game. I am conflicted because I want to win but I also want everybody to have fun.  

Zen Master: That is the nature and essence of pickleball. It teaches you what you need to know  about yourself while you’re having fun exercising with your friends. It is a gift from the pickleball  gods. And remember every game is another opportunity to get it right. Or at least have a good  time trying. 

Me: OK sensei I’m good with that. But I have another request. Can you help the powers that  be in my hometown to understand the need for new outdoor courts? The current outdoor  courts in Powell are in sorry shape. It’s so bad the tennis players we have to share the court  with are pouting. I’ve even seen some of them weeping. The courts kind of resemble Geyser Basin in Yellowstone with cracks and bubbles in the ancient asphalt surface deteriorating daily  and threatening to swallow players. Nearly every other town in Wyoming, some much smaller than Powell, has decent outdoor courts. Our courts speak of decay and neglect. And we’re  proud of our town. We don’t want Powell to become known for the dumpiest courts in Wyoming. 

Zen Master: In my infinite wisdom I have learned it’s usually money or the lack of it which is  determinate. 

Me: I understand but sensei they managed to find a pile of money for a splash pond and a new playground.  

Zen Master: Tell you what: I will send a psychic text to all the board members and relevant  decision makers to direct their attention to this gross injustice. New courts will be built when their hearts are right. 

Me: Thank you sensei! I’m glad I climbed up here!