Two reasons. It is easy to learn. It is social.
I’ve been a tennis player for nearly four decades now and it takes years to hit a slice serve, play matches and become good at the sport of Alex Eala. Not pickleball. On your first try, you can start playing a game of doubles.
Take my sister Cheryl Pages-Alba. Unlike her brothers who are crazy about sports (my brother Charlie played basketball varsity; Randy joined a junior tennis event when he was 11; Michael has enjoyed badminton for years), Cheryl has never been one to do the elliptical for 90 minutes each morning or to run a 21K.
But pickleball has got her hooked. She brings the whole family together not to SM or Ayala but to swing the paddle. They laugh. They high-five. They sweat.
That’s the beauty of pickleball. The learning curve is refreshingly low. You don’t need perfect technique or months of lessons. You don’t need elite fitness. All you need is a paddle, a lightweight plastic ball, and a court about a third the size of a tennis court. Within minutes, beginners are rallying.
It’s also easy on the joints, which is why older players gravitate toward it. At the same time, it is quick and tactical enough to keep younger players engaged. Families play together. No one gets left behind. Grandparents. Parents. Kids. Same court. Same game. Same laughs. In a sporting world that often separates generations, pickleball quietly unites them.
Last year, my daughter Jana organized an “in10s” (pronounced “intense”) pickleball tournament in Bright Academy and there was a 60-year old lola who joined — playing the very first tournament of her entire life!
Pickleball is a combination of three sports. A little ping-pong. A little badminton. A little tennis. The underhand serve removes fear. The slower ball gives time. Players don’t spend the first hour chasing balls. They spend it enjoying the game. Whether you are brand new or quietly competitive, pickleball simply lets you play.
That mix has turned a niche sport into a movement. Here in Cebu, the proof is everywhere. Courts are sprouting faster than new cafés — from Match Point to Kitchenline to Magnum.
But beyond accessibility, what truly fuels pickleball is community.
Singles exists. But doubles dominates. The smaller court where all four players are just several feet from each other means plenty of engagement. That means talking. Laughing. Quick chats between points. Friendly banter. Missed shots followed by smiles. It’s competitive, yes — but rarely hostile.
Across Cebu, Manila, Bacolod and especially Dumaguete — which, I believe, has the highest density of pickleball courts in the country — pickleball courts have become social hubs. People don’t just come to sweat. They come to connect. Friendships form. Group chats explode. Schedules suddenly revolve around “one more game.”