Fickleball

 

I’m looking for a place to play my newest passion, which you might rightfully call my newest preoccupation: Fickleball (though the name could change if we gain a lucrative sponsorship). While I have only been into the sport for roughly one week, what I lack in experience I make up for in revolutionary fervor. 

I don’t know much about the game’s history, as a relative newcomer, but I can tell you that driving a bulldozer is way easier than you might imagine. In the last two days, I have helped raze two tennis courts, three playgrounds, and a baseball field to make room for the Fickleball. That's not even counting all the youth soccer matches I disrupted. People listen to you when you have a bullhorn, and it makes the relocation process far smoother. 

Unlike most games, with the possible exception of baseball, Fickleball has no agreed upon dimensions. However, even baseball has its limits for the outfield fence. Not Fickleball. Like a conquistador in his glistening prime, we’re always accruing territory, drinking wine, and looking for gold. Frankly, the game has been a genuine fountain of youth for many participants. We also don't discriminate on other species. Yesterday, my squad shellacked an opposing team made up of feral cats and several wandering squirrels. 

The league I’m a part of is in the process of purchasing a bankrupt township in northern Michigan that we plan to turn into a single, contiguous field. There are a few holdouts who don’t want to sell their trailers, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my week amongst Fickleballers, it’s that everyone has a price. 

I never knew how much I enjoyed evangelizing. Other sports are pastimes, recreations, diversions. Not Fickleball. The survival of western civilization depends on its adoption and expansion. We need this game to replace religion, politics, and every other sport. So we’re starting with fields and arenas, but not stopping there. Churches, schools, and random cultural institutions can easily be transformed into indoor field houses or player-centric lounges. 

I don’t know how much longer I can play Fickleball. The rules are complex and fairly stupid. The people who play it are annoying and fairly obnoxious. You don’t need much equipment, but you do need at least two million in assets. As one teammate is fond of saying, “liquidity is for going on the lam and I haven't packed my suitcase yet.” He may be right. These days, how could you not consider cash a marginalized group? 

And even though we’re amateurs, I had to sign a lifetime contract to play in a pickup game. The captain of the team said it was to weed out non-believers. Makes sense to me.

I was going to play in a contest this afternoon but I just spotted a shiny buffalo nickel circa 1919. Might spend the weekend polishing it instead.