Peak Human Achievement: Pickleball, Apparently
Seriously? Twenty-eight hours? Lets just pause for a moment and collectively contemplate the sheer magnitude of that absurdity. We’re celebrating this…this marathon of dinking and diving as some sort of monumental feat? I picture these men, fueled by questionable sports drinks and sheer desperation, shuffling around a court, slapping a plastic ball back and forth like geriatric ping-pong players on amphetamines.
And the fanfare! The record-breaking title! As if someone meticulously documented every single point in pickleball history before this glorious event occurred. I bet previous record holders are weeping into their paddle grips right now. This is what we’ve come to? A pinnacle of human endeavor involving a sport invented seemingly to torture knees and generate an endless supply of pastel athletic wear?
Im not saying exercise is bad – heavens, no! But must it be documented with such breathless enthusiasm? Couldn’t they have spent those twenty-eight hours curing cancer or writing a decent novel? Or maybe just…sleeping?
Honestly, I expect to see commemorative statues erected soon. Here lies the spirit of relentless dinking, theyll read. I can practically hear the inspirational speeches already: “Never give up! Even if you’re hitting a plastic ball for nearly a full day!” Just…please, someone stop me before I start feeling patriotic about pickleball.
