When tennis told me “enough”, pickleball said “come on over”. It did not take much persuading: the court is closer, the ball is lighter, and the fun — to my own surprise — is no smaller.
Here every point starts quietly and ends like an argument at the net. Dink, dink — and suddenly one hand error turns chess into a gunfight.
What I like most about it is the people. On the courts in Cochrane you will find retirees, teenagers and former tennis players like me — and everyone leaves with the same expression: one more game.

