Today I had one of those sessions where my brain and my feet were clearly running different operating systems.
The good news: I finally had a few dinks that were actually intentional and not just “I was late and the ball happened to clear the net.” The bad news: my inner monologue still sounds like a grumpy coach who cares way too much about third shots for a dude who is only a few weeks into the sport.
The truth is somewhere in the middle.
I am playing, I am sweating, I am laughing with people I did not know a month ago, and every time the ball does something unexpected I get a free physics lesson.
If that is what being a “grumpy pickleballer” looks like, I think I am okay with it.