September 14, 2018 – Fairfax, Virginia, USA
“Ten serving nine. This is it. You said something about losers buying dinner next weekend, right?” Martin called across the pickleball court.
“Is that what I said?” Mitch called back. “Let’s see how this next point goes before I decide whether it was winners or losers.”
Martin popped the pickleball over the net toward Robin, Mitch’s partner. She returned it toward Larissa, Martin’s partner. Plink. Plink. Plink. Back and forth the ball went until Larissa hit a winning shot that landed just inside the back line.
“Yes! World champions again!” shouted Martin, raising his arms above his head. “I thought you guys said you were serious about this game. When’s the last time you beat us? Like Neverember?”
“Hilarious,” replied Robin sarcastically. “Why’s that a surprise? You’re the ones with a court in your driveway. Maybe we’ve got a life outside of pickleball.”
“Don’t be jealous of our sweet court,” Martin said with a laugh. “Get me some tape and I’ll make you one, too, so you can practice.”
The two couples retrieved their courtside water bottles as they continued to tease each other. They were standing under a flood light mounted to the townhouse owned by Martin and Larissa. The pickleball court was marked out using tape on the cement driveway adjoining the garage.
Larissa was the first of the group to discover pickleball. She had seen people playing it at a community playground and learned it was a mashup between tennis, badminton, and ping pong. Larissa liked tennis and soon found out that pickleball was easier than tennis and fun to play in pairs. That was before she met Martin. She introduced him to pickleball on one of their first dates. Then it seemed like everyone they knew was buying nets and paddles.
When Martin and Larissa bought the townhouse, they did not plan for a pickleball court in the driveway. It was after a game in a city park that Martin pulled out a tape measure and discovered that the driveway was only a couple of inches too narrow for a regulation sized court. They figured it was close enough. Their particular house rules dealt with how to handle the hedge on one side of the court and the garage door on the other side. There was also a downhill slope to the court which called for more frequent side changes. Martin and Larissa added the flood light overhead to add the possibility of night games.
Mitch gestured toward the court after taking a long drink from his water bottle. “I still can’t believe how bright those lights make it.”
“There’s like a hundred LEDs up in the light box. They’re supposed to last twenty-five years,” said Martin.
“Oh yeah, you were going to tell us about that new Italian place,” said Larissa, changing the subject. “The one with the meatballs.”
“Like I was saying, the meatballs are the size of your fist. We should definitely go when we’re looking for dinner,” said Robin.
Talk of the Italian restaurant triggered more ideas for places they should try on double dates.
Larissa and Martin both worked for federal government agencies in large office buildings. The high density of colleagues provided many opportunities to make new friends of other young couples like themselves. They found that one of the fastest ways to accelerate their friendships was to invite couples over for pickleball. Larissa and Martin tended to rank friends based on how much they liked the game, and so far, Mitch and Robin were on top of the rankings. They made for decent conversation and were just competitive enough to keep the pickleball games interesting.
After the restaurant talk fizzled out, Mitch gestured toward the neighboring townhouse and asked with a grin, “So how’s that working out?”
Martin and Larissa both rolled their eyes and sighed. Their driveway and hedge were bordered by a parallel driveway and hedge. A white vinyl fence ran in between. The townhouse on the other side of the fence was a mirror image to their own. In the upstairs bedroom that overlooked the driveways, a light was on.
“Good ol’ Mrs. Loomis is definitely up there. I guarantee she’s watching us,” said Martin in disgust.
“She’s got nothing better to do,” added Larissa. “She’s worse than a prison guard. I swear I could be thrown in a penitentiary right now and not know the difference.”
Mitch and Robin laughed. “At least no one’s going to rob your house without her seeing it,” Robin said.
“Yes, we’re so lucky,” replied Larissa sarcastically.
“And she really reported you to the city?” asked Mitch.
“Yeah, someone came by and gave us our first warning. The city ordinance is no loud noises after 10 pm,” said Martin. “But how strict do you have to be to think pickleball is a loud noise?”
“Were you doing something weird with your paddles?” asked Mitch with a laugh.
“No, all paddling activity was normal,” replied Larissa with a sarcastic grin.
“So I guess we’re now on the city’s hardened criminal list,” said Martin. “That’s why Larissa’s thinking so much about the penitentiary. Mrs. Loomis better hope we never catch her watering her lawn the wrong way or leaving out her garbage cans too long.”
Robin looked at her phone. “It’s almost 10:00. I guess we’re done for the night then.”
Martin and Larissa pulled out their phones too. Martin said, “We still have a few minutes. How would you like to try a rally and see how many times we can hit the ball back and forth? I watched some people doing that in the park and thought it looked kind of fun.”
“Don’t try to score? Just lob it over?” asked Robin.
“Yeah, let’s see how many times we can do it,” replied Martin. “It’s kind of like blowing up a balloon and seeing how many times you can hit it before it falls to the ground.”
Everyone agreed it would be fun to try and they took their usual spots on both sides of the net. The night was still warm and so were their muscles. They were probably in their best possible state for a long rally and both sides of the net were closely matched in skill level.
Martin served the ball easily and Mitch returned it to the middle of the court. Plink. Plink. Plink. Both Martin and Mitch counted the hits aloud.
“Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five . . .”
Everyone did their best to return the ball so it landed in the middle of the court and was easy to return, but inevitably the ball sometimes landed in unexpected places. Larissa made a diving save to keep the rally going and ended up in the hedge.
Plink. Plink. Plink. “Eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six . . .”
When Martin scraped up his knee on the cement diving for a ball, the hit count got kind of confused. Mitch thought they were two hits above the number Martin was using. When the count passed 150, all four players were spurred by a rush of confidence.
“This might be the best I’ve ever played in my life,” said Larissa.
“Same here,” agreed Robin.
When they got past 200, they began to cheer for each successful hit and wondered about what the all-time pickleball record might be. Martin said they should have checked before they got started.
Martin’s and Mitch’s counts moved past 300 and the pressure to keep up the rally began to show on everyone. Simple shots few wide. Breathing was heavy and shouts of excitement turned to nervous yelps. Finally, Robin hit a ball that curved toward the hedge. Larissa stretched for it but it dribbled past her.
“That’s it! Game over!” shouted Mitch. He had ended his count at 312.
Groans of disappointment were soon replaced by self-congratulations. Everyone agreed it had been a magical performance no one had expected and they would probably never be able to duplicate.
“I wish we had recorded it,” said Martin. “I should have set up my phone.
“We need the proof. No one’s going to believe 312,” said Mitch.
“Or 310,” said Martin, who still maintained that the hit count was lower.
The four friends went inside, still chattering about the rally. After Mitch and Robin left for the night, Martin and Larissa acted out some of the more heroic saves in the rally, including the way Martin sacrificed his knee. Over the rest of the weekend, the two couples texted back and forth about how they wished they had a recording. Martin and Mitch continued to argue the final hit count.
On the following Tuesday afternoon, there was a knock on Martin’s and Larissa’s door. They were both at home preparing for impending business trips and they both shuffled to their entryway to see who might be visiting. Through the peephole, they did not recognize the short woman standing outside. Martin shrugged like they might as well open the door because the woman looked harmless.
“Hi, my name is Nancy Cartwright and I work for the city of Fairfax,” said the visitor. She held up an identification card with her picture on it.
“Okay. What do you want from us?” asked Larissa hesitantly.
Nancy breathed deeply like she was bracing herself to deliver bad news. She had been on hundreds of these types of visits and they always went poorly. She had argued with her bosses about simply sending letters or emails out, but the people in charge kept telling her that personal visits were more effective.
“I hate to tell you this,” said Nancy, putting away her ID, “but someone has reported you for a noise violation.”
Martin’s and Larissa’s faces immediately grew angry and defiant. “No way! You must have the wrong house! It wasn’t us!” cried Martin.
Nancy was used to that kind of reaction. No one ever thought they were guilty and they usually took their frustrations out on her. “I’m just the messenger,” said Nancy. “I’m only responding to the report and the evidence.”
“So when did this supposedly happen?” asked Larissa.
“Friday night,” replied Nancy. “I have a video and a timestamp.”
Nancy expected more denials and arguments about invasions of privacy. Instead, Martin and Larissa looked at each other in surprise. They both turned back to Nancy, smiling. At first, she assumed they had something sinister in mind.
“Video?” asked Martin. “When was it shot?”
“It starts a little before 10:00,” replied Nancy.
“Can we see it?” asked Larissa.
“Yes, you have a right to,” said Nancy, pulling out an electronic tablet.
Martin and Larissa huddled excitedly around the tablet and Nancy found the link for the video. When it started to play, the footage obviously showed their driveway and it was taken from the neighboring townhouse.
“Look, it starts before we started the rally,” said Martin.
The video showed Martin and Larissa walking out to the pickleball court. Then Martin served and the pickleball was hit back and forth.
“Can you fast forward to see how much she got?” Larissa said to Nancy.
Nancy scrolled to the end of the video which showed the four pickleball players finishing up and then walking off the court, well after 10:00.
“Good ol’ Mrs. Loomis! She got it all!” cried Martin.
“And the angle’s pretty good,” added Larissa. “You can see all the action.”
Nancy looked back and forth between them in stunned silence. “Um, so you’ll confirm that’s you in the video?”
“Of course it’s us,” replied Martin.
“Well, then I’m sorry to say there’s a $100 fine for this violation. Since it’s your second one.”
“Will we get the link to the video?” asked Martin.
“If you’d like it, yes, I can send it to you,” replied Nancy.
Martin then said something to Nancy she had never heard when making house calls: “We’re happy to pay. I’m glad you stopped by.”
“You’re happy to pay?” asked Nancy.
“For that video, absolutely. Can I give you a credit card? And can you email me the link?” answered Martin.
Nancy was too confused to remember her usual warning. She was supposed to tell Martin and Larissa to be more careful about the time and the noise and the next time it happened the fine would be steeper. Instead of listening to the warning, Martin and Larissa asked Nancy if she would like something to drink. She walked away after telling them the whole visit had been a pleasure.
As soon as Martin had the link to the video, he and Larissa sent it to most of their friends and family. They spent a good chunk of their business trips re-watching it. It became by far the most viewed video in the history of Fairfax’s neighborhood zoning report system.
Mitch and Robin watched the video almost as many times as Martin and Larissa. After a careful recounting, both couples agreed the final tally for hits was 311. They continued to believe it was impressive even after looking up the official world record.
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