Greetings from the pickleball kitchen! It's been a while since I've aired my grievances (I mean, shared my thoughts) about the game. I'm currently on a self-imposed two-week "vacation" from the court, all thanks to what I'm pretty sure is a case of plantar fasciitis – because apparently, my feet decided to join the "over-the-hill" club without my permission. It's a common injury, especially for those of us who enjoy a good run or a vigorous court sport, or, you know, just generally exist past a certain age. I did manage to have an X-Ray which shows I have a heel spur. Fun.

And let me tell you, this isn't one of those injuries that sends you a quick "see ya!" text. I've already shelled out about $1,000 on physical therapy and shockwave treatments, and my foot is still giving me the silent treatment. However, to be fair I had not given it the full “get off your feet” treatment - thus the 2 weeks of sitting down, eating too much food and catching up on a lot of bad shows on the tube.

One would hope there's a grand scheme to all of this, right? In a few days, we're jetting off to a ridiculously expensive Mexican resort. My one condition when booking? I practically begged the CFO for a place with more to do than just bake on the beach. So, naturally, we're off to a resort with a pickleball camp. The agenda promises two hours of morning instruction, followed by two hours of open play in the afternoon – with a glorious day off in the middle, thank goodness. This all would have been peachy keen before my feet decided to stage a rebellion. Now, I'm doing my utmost to rest up, secretly hoping an ocean of margaritas will magically numb the pain while I'm out on the court. I promise I will be a good boy and report back at a later date.

It's been a whirlwind of paddles and volleys since my last update, and I've squeezed in a few tournaments. September brought the APA Ontario Grand Slam, an event I tackled in two distinct categories at a new club in Orangeville – a 90-minute escape from Toronto's hustle. Perfect for pretending to be a pro!

My first foray was into Men’s Doubles 4.0 0/50 with Cam, our first time playing together. Our chemistry was surprisingly excellent, and we navigated a challenging pool with a commendable 2-1 record, including a satisfying win against a higher-ranked duo. Alas, the cruel mistress of point differential meant we didn't advance. A tough pill to swallow, but I'm optimistic for future collaborations – and maybe a new calculator.

The second event was Split mixed doubles with CM, the spirited younger sister of the legendary "Pickleball Princess" (who, rumour has it, is currently on a sabbatical with an unlisted phone number. Or maybe she has a call display and refuses to pick up - LOL ). CM, a proud "taco aficionado," proved to be an adaptable and enjoyable partner. Our styles meshed seamlessly, and we powered through our pool with an unblemished 4-0 record, showcasing formidable skill and teamwork – and possibly a shared love of post-game burritos.

The semi-final pushed us to our limits, but we emerged victorious, earning our spot in the final. The championship match was a hard-fought three-game battle. We stumbled in the first game, faced match points against us, and then, with unwavering determination (and maybe a secret stash of emergency caffeine), we clawed our way back to triumph. It was a nice comeback and a testament to our perseverance, making the victory all the sweeter. Especially since it means I get to brag about it.

The next tournament was the wildly popular Hi Sports circuit.

I, ever the glutton for punishment, entered two events. My doubles partner, Ed, and I bravely took on the 0/60 MD, which, to our surprise, merged with the sprightly 0/50 group. We managed to win our pool, a small victory before we stumbled in the medal round, finishing a respectable (yet frustrating) 4th. Not that I'm counting, but that's my seventh fourth-place finish. My trophy shelf is starting to look like a monument to "almost there." Sigh.

Later, I teamed up with Jason for the MD Split 3.5, and we actually had a rather good tournament, snagging a bronze medal! Our strategy was a stroke of genius: "You take 75% of the court, and I'll try my best to stay out of your way." It was a bold move, and it paid off!

The final fall fling was the Toronto Open, held at The Jem – a club that looked lovely on the outside but had courts so fast they practically gave you whiplash. In fact, they were so zippy that even some of the pros had to take their talents elsewhere. Meanwhile, I, in my infinite wisdom (or perhaps fleeting delusion), entered three events. My foot, bless its achy heart, was already staging a protest, so my main goal was to finish without needing a full-time limp.

Luckily, my "taco belle" (aka my awesome mixed doubles partner) was available, and we gallantly tackled the 4.0 Split MXD. We played well, we snagged a respectable 3rd place! We finished 3-2 in our pool, lost a nail-biter in the semi-finals, but rallied for a bronze medal win with a score so good, it almost made my foot forget its grievances.

In the Men's Doubles, I teamed up with Pat, and we were absolutely on fire for the first half – then, like a soufflé collapsing, we gave some of it back in the second half. Still, silver ain't too shabby! My final event, MXD 0/50, was a bit of a face-plant. Sometimes it happens, but hats off to my partner for putting up with my tired self.

My PB rating has been on a rollercoaster ride, teasing me with highs only to reveal its true, mischievous nature. No tournaments until after my holiday, then one more pre-holiday hurrah before my foot likely stages a full-blown rebellion and demands another break. Apologies for all the PB saga! Adios!