allgoodnoworries
Pickleball workshop on 4/12 in Chicago; how to relate to people on the court, etc.
Sign up for a special pickleball workshop for couples or friends who play pickleball together: https://spf.podplay.app/community/events/84687627-fa54-497f-b98e-fb32e2cda314
Good morning,
Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I first became sensitive to the phrase “no worries” when I was on a sales call in my early 20s.
After situating myself in the lobby for a small office of a pool supply business in St. Charles, Illinois, my leather portfolio sitting on my lap with a cost analysis of their current shipping costs versus the ones I could offer, the president of the company, with whom I had a set appointment, popped his head out of his office and said he’d be just a few more minutes.
“No worries,” I said, smiling politely at the man. He nodded and smiled back and said he’d be right out.
A few minutes later I sat across from him at his big messy desk. The first thing he said was: “So, have you spent much time in the UK?”
“No,” I said, wondering why he asked. “I visited London while in college, but not for any significant length of time. How come?”
“Well,” he said, “You said ‘no worries,’ and that’s a very common phrase over there. I’ve worked a ton in the UK and thought maybe you have, too.”
“Ah,” I said. “Nope. My boss just says it all the time. I guess I picked it up from him.”
We continued our meeting and it ended up not being a good fit. (They didn’t do a lot of domestic shipping, mostly local. At the time, during my nascent tenure in shipping sales, I was just grateful to have gotten a “set appointment” with a “True Decision Maker” of a locally-owned business.) Though our conversation was brief and financially fruitless, it unexpectedly resurfaced years later when I started playing pickleball.
I hadn’t thought about that meeting—or even the phrase “no worries”—since 2005. But about four years ago, a few weeks into my time playing pickleball, I found myself in a game that was more “all worries” than none.
The day itself, however, elicited no worries. Eight big blue courts overlooking the Pacific Ocean. San Clemente, early summer. A full day ahead and no obligations. My pickleball bug was in full swing.
I had started to get pretty good at this simple game with a silly name, my dormant athleticism from childhood slowly unearthing and recalibrating with daily play. The groups I played with during open play consisted of warm, welcoming and competitive people of varied ages and skills. (For those in the know, this was like 2.5–3.5 level play).
On this day, while waiting for some of my familiar open play friends to get to courts, I saw three guys in their 60s warming up on a court just inside the fence. They asked me if I wanted to jump in while they waited for their fourth to show. A nearby person overheard and warned me to watch out—these guys were really good. In fact, she continued, one of them is an instructor!
The way these guys were described as ‘very good’ didn’t match what I saw during their warm-up. At the time I had no clue how to play the game (I knew the rules, where to stand on the court and how to make contact with the ball, but nothing really about the nuance and minutiae of actual game play). As I watched them warm up at the kitchen line, hitting soft friendly dinks to one another, I figured how hard could this be? I could jump in and play the way they were playing, no problem.
The guys were gracious enough to let me play three games with them, but they didn’t hold back. I lost every game by at least ten points. All their points came from me popping up dinks during a rally, allowing them to smash the ball through the middle for winners.
I was growing frustrated and angry at myself. My partner during the third game was especially kind and patient. During one particularly embarrassing run of four or five popped up dinks in a row, he said “no worries” after every time it happened. No worries. No worries. No worries.
My frustration finally boiled over when I said with an edge: “I’m not worried. I’m just angry at myself for losing every point!” He smiled, apologized, and said he was just trying to be friendly. I said I understood; I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at myself.
Looking back, “no worries” was an appropriate thing for him to say to me: we didn’t know each other and he just wanted to get through one more boring game until the fourth good guy showed up. In the spirit of pickleball, he didn’t want me to quit the game because of how poorly I was playing. And as I’ve continued to play more and more over the years, I’ve seen how that phrase is sort of the knee jerk response that most people say to their partner after the person says sorry or makes mistake after mistake. In fact it’s often paired with the classic phrase “all good” as one long, quick expression: “Allgoodnoworries.”
But what about when my game is “allworriesnogood,” just like that day on the court in San Clemente?
When I think more about it, part of my anger and frustration is because I wanted the more experienced player to offer me a quick pointer, tell me one thing I could do to limit my errors (i.e., once your paddle hits the ball, don’t follow through, don’t pull the paddle behind your body, etc.) instead of just telling me not to worry about my mistakes. After the fifth time, hearing “no worries” in a chuckly voice felt patronizing, not encouraging.
One of my favorite things about pickleball is the social dynamics on the court. There’s a whole different vibe when playing with a new person versus someone I only know from open play versus a friend I’ve made through playing versus someone with whom I am close with outside of the game. There’s an art to knowing when and how to encourage, support, or offer a pointer. (In my allworriesnogood scenario above, it was not this guy’s role to offer me any pointers–we had just met and I did not ask.)
After playing, many people ask, “How did it go today?” They usually want to know how many games you won and how well you played. But my pat response, assuming it’s true, is that “It was a good day because I didn’t get hurt or lose any friends. I might not have made any, but I didn’t lose any!” That’s a response I might give to a stranger, akin to “allgoodnoworries” on the court.
But what about playing with people close to you? How do you learn to play with someone that you live or work with or are best friends off the court? That’s a whole thing unto itself. There are gameplay structures and interpersonal strategies that can bolster a relationship regardless of how the game itself goes. I’ve found that for me, it’s taken a lot more effort to learn how to play with people I love than with strangers I meet on the court. Every time I step on the court, it feels like a work in progress.
This notion led me to create a special workshop to share my learnings and strategies. I’m calling it “Double Trouble,” and I’m hosting it for the first time ever at SPF Chicago in Lincoln Park on April 12th at 8-10 a.m. Spots are limited to four pairs–sign up now:
https://spf.podplay.app/community/events/84687627-fa54-497f-b98e-fb32e2cda314
If you know couples or besties who play together, please share this info! The goal is for them to learn enough to convert moments on the court from allworriesnogood to allgoodnoworries.
Until next time,
Matt