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By Mihar Dias October 2025
Pickleball, my friends, is not about pickles — there are no cucumbers, no vinegar, and no jars involved. It’s a sport, though some might say it’s more of a social movement powered by plastic balls, paddles, and a whole lot of midlife enthusiasm.
If you haven’t heard of it yet, then you probably haven’t been invited by your overzealous neighbours who discovered it on YouTube during lockdown and now play it as if the Olympics depended on them
My neighbours — let’s call them the Babas family — are in their fifties but have taken to the game like ducks to water. Correction: like ducks with new paddles.
Their two sons, both in their 30s, are just as obsessed, though I suspect they play only to make sure Mum and Dad don’t overexert themselves or take selfies mid-match.
Now, the Babas have this habit of calling us at odd hours to make up a foursome. Take yesterday, for instance. We’d already done our Sunday morning tennis — two solid hours of topspin, sweat, and bragging rights at the club. Just as we were sinking into our sofa, iced tea in hand, the phone buzzed.
“Hey, want to join us at Pickle Point at 7 p.m.?”
My first instinct was to pretend the line had gone dead. But my conscience (and my wife) wouldn’t allow it. Saying “no” to the Babas would crush their spirits.
Besides, curiosity got the better of us.
“Pickle Point” is not to be confused with “Social Pickle,” the other venue nearby where beginners and retirees gather.
The latter is more like a comedy show disguised as a sport. Imagine a court full of cheerful seniors, swinging paddles, laughing at their own wild shots — and sometimes at their partners who forget which side they’re supposed to be on. It’s chaos. But it’s joyful chaos.
And you know what? It’s beautiful.
Here we have Malaysians — from 20-somethings in trendy sportswear to silver-haired uncles in knee braces — all enjoying a sport that’s inclusive, noisy, and gloriously unserious. It’s the fastest-growing sport in the country, and judging by the crowd, it might just overtake badminton as Malaysia’s new national obsession.
But I must confess: as a lifelong tennis player, I find pickleball a little… let’s say peculiar. The paddle feels like an oversized ping-pong bat. The ball — a perforated plastic contraption — refuses to bounce properly. And bending down to pick it up repeatedly is an instant chiropractic appointment waiting to happen.
Still, the laughter, the camaraderie, the friendly trash talk — all of it makes the backache worthwhile.
By the end of the night, we were sweaty, happy, and nursing coconuts engraved with the slogan “Drink responsibly.” I’m not sure if that meant “don’t spill” or “throw your shell in the bin,” but either way, we obeyed.
So yes, pickleball may not have the grace of tennis or the speed of badminton, but it has something rarer — community. And if a game can make you laugh at your own mistakes while sweating off your Sunday nasi lemak, then maybe that’s all the exercise philosophy we need.
Now excuse me — my phone’s buzzing again. Probably the Babas. They need another player tonight. God help my back.
Mihar Dias (mihardias@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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