I showed up at the court looking nothing like someone about to try a sport. It was early — the kind of Cebu morning that still feels half-asleep — and I was in clothes better suited for the beach rather than any athletic activity.
Just a few days before, I had been discharged from the hospital for hypertensive cardiac disease. A lifestyle complication, really, and one that people in creative work understand more than we care to admit.
The invitation to play pickleball wasn’t something I planned for. Friends insisted. I showed up. Someone handed me a paddle. And suddenly, I was standing on a court that looked like table tennis and tennis had decided to meet halfway.
My accidental pickeball morning
For context — pickleball was invented in the 1960s by three dads in Washington state who wanted a game everyone in the family could play. That origin story makes perfect sense once you’re actually on the court. The rules come quickly. The scoring, admittedly, takes a while. But after a few confused smiles and a couple of resets, the pace becomes familiar.
Surprisingly, I adapted fast. I competed in novice-level table tennis back in school, and those old reflexes resurfaced like they had been waiting for their cue. Tennis basics filled in whatever my muscle memory didn’t. Singles pushed me to my limits, reminding me I wasn’t that far removed from a hospital bed. Doubles, though — doubles was where the sport revealed its charm. Better rhythm, better camaraderie, better everything.
We played four games in two hours. Enough to make me sweat and expend more energy than I’d like to admit. Now, I’m considering — seriously considering — buying my own racket. I didn’t think I’d enjoy it, much less get hooked, but pickleball has that effect. Accessible. Quick to learn. Social. And very Cebu-friendly.
In a city where people love communal activities — from weekend runners at SRP to packed tennis courts in barangays — pickleball feels inevitable. The courts don’t need much space. Anyone can play. And before you know it, you’re part of a small morning community bound by rallies, ribbing and shared hydration.
By the time we wrapped up, the sun was already claiming the rest of the day. I walked off the court lighter, a little amused and honestly, grateful. It wasn’t the kind of comeback activity someone fresh out of the hospital would recommend. But for me, that morning on the court was exactly what I needed. It was a gentle reminder that the body can surprise you, and so can life, especially when you weren’t planning on playing at all.