Small Ball Snapshot - Finding Myself in a Pickle

I’ve become one of those people.

The ones who are addicted to pickleball. Who talk about it more than they probably should. Who now plan their days around court time.

I picked up a paddle for the first time in October of 2024. Fourteen months later, I played pickleball 26 straight days in Florida while on vacation. I’m not sure what that says about me, but it probably qualifies as an obsession.

What surprised me on my trip wasn’t how much I liked the game. It was what it exposed.

The voice that showed up on the court wasn’t about pickleball. It was the same self-doubt and impostor syndrome that’s been with me most of my life. It shows up in everyday moments, in quiet ways. But when I step on camera or onto a stage, that voice disappears.

On the court, it came back.

For about a week, I let it run. Every miss tightened me up. Every mistake lingered longer than it should have. And eventually, I realized it wasn’t helping me get better. It was hurting me.

Florida didn’t give me a way around it.

I was initially playing with people who didn’t know my name or what I do for a living. New partners, new conversations, no reputation to lean on (shoutout to Shiela, Mark, and the Bayfront Park pickleball crew). There was no stage to hide behind. No script. No safety net. Just me, a paddle, and a game I was still learning.

So I started practicing something small. A deep breath after a miss. A reset. Moving on to the next point instead of replaying the last one.

Point after point, day after day, that became the work. Less performing. More paying attention to how I talked to myself when things didn’t go perfectly.

What I didn’t expect was how that practice followed me off the court.

Now when that same voice shows up in real life, after a tough conversation, a missed opportunity, a moment where I fall short, I recognize it sooner. I pause. I reset. I move forward without letting it take over.

Pickleball didn’t create the voice, and it didn’t silence it. It gave me a place to notice something that’s been with me my whole life, like it is for many of us. Confidence, I’ve learned, isn’t about eliminating self-doubt. It’s about not letting it drive.

That’s the Small Ball lesson.

Question: Where does that familiar voice still show up for you, and what would it look like to reset instead of react?