“Stop,” he chastised gently, smiling at me. “You’re going to do great.”
I knew better.
A few minutes later, I was following him with a paddle in hand to the only courts with the overhead lights on above them. I cursed Meredith for forcing me into a scenario where an expert was going to be watching every move I made and thencritiquingit all. I was self-conscious enough about my lack of grace without focused concentration looking for areas that needed improvement.
“Tell me about your background,” Owen said, fixing his gaze on me and spinning his paddle in his hand. “What type of sports have you played?”
I grimaced. “None?”
He laughed good-naturedly, like I was joking. In a few minutes, he’d see the reason why for himself.
“What about workouts? What’s your preference?”
“Also none.”
Admitting it out loud made me feel soft and not in a moisturized way. In an I-have-no-idea-what-kettlebells-are-for way.
“Wow, okay.” He nodded. “Absolute beginner status, got it. So what drew you to pickleball?”
He watched me with a look that suggested what I said next would direct everything we did together. I hadn’t been smartenough to come up with a cover story, and admitting that I was chasing a crush on a stranger in order to find my muse would make me look certifiable.
“Uh... the social aspect?”
“Got it. You’re in the right place; pickleball is a great way to meet new people.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. First hurdle crossed.
“This sport is all about community,” he continued. “I don’t offer group classes, but after we finish up, you might want to take some with Brandon. He’s basically the social director around here.”
I wasn’t about to admit right off the bat that the lessons were nothing more than a four-week fast track to Kai.
“Good to know,” I replied.
Owen moved a little closer to me. “Okay, first we’re going to talk grip. I noticed that’s what was tripping you up a couple of weeks ago, and it’s a foundational aspect that I obsess about. I’m a firm believer in focusing on the basics. The worst thing you can do is start your pickleball journey with bad habits and then try to unlearn them.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “That’s why I love newbies like you. Clean slate.”
I felt heat rush to my cheeks at being appreciated for my beginner status, possibly for the first time ever.
“They call me the Big Gripper around here for a reason,” he continued. “Connecting your hand to your tool the right way is the first piece of the puzzle. Show me what you’ve got.” He nodded to my paddle.
It felt like a pop quiz, and I wanted to prove that I was a good student. I mimicked what he’d shown me the first time I came and gripped the paddle so tightly my forearm tensed.
“Nice, that’s a perfect Continental grip. You’re halfway there.”He nodded. “But are you trying to murder that paddle? Loosen up that hypergrip. Gimme some Satan fingers.”
Owen held out his paddle and released his pinkie and pointer fingers, which made him look like he was a metalhead at a concert. “Rock and roll.” He gently closed his fingers around the paddle again.
If I couldn’t get something as simple as how to grip right, I was in trouble. I felt like I wasalreadyfucking up. Typical. I loosened my choke hold and mimicked him.
“Yes, there it is.” He nodded. “Let’s put it to work. Swing time. Now, if you had a tennis background—”
“Which I definitely don’t,” I interrupted.
“Right,” Owen continued. “But if you did, we’d have to work on getting rid of your backswing, because a lot of the action in pickleball is out here.” He swirled the air in front of him. “To start off, all we’re going to do is...pushthe ball.” He swept his paddle in a graceful arc. “Try it.Push.”
His voice softened as he said the word, like gentling his tone translated to the swing of his paddle.
I started off by accidentally strangling my paddle again, then corrected myself, and tried to look graceful as I moved it through the air. I watched him carefully as he observed me, preemptively flinching, because even though he was trying to hide it, I could tell by his expression that I was doing it wrong.
As usual.
