How Pickleball Saved My Life

In March of 2022, I was lost. For 22 years, I had chased one goal. To reach the highest levels of sports broadcasting. Now, that goal was gone. And along with it, my tangible community and more importantly my self-identity. I was no longer the “Voice of the Hokies.” So, who was I?

Two years earlier, the world stopped. A day after Virginia Tech lost in the ACC Tournament, effectively ending their season, I watched from my apartment as event after event and location after location shut down. Including Virginia Tech. Blacksburg became a ghost town and our two-bedroom downtown apartment became a prison cell. At least a mental one. I was furloughed a couple of weeks later and shut off from communicating with my colleagues for three months.

The pandemic and the quarantine, death, loss and fear that came with it were incredibly difficult for everyone. There is no denying that. But for people that deal with depression, particularly trauma-based depression like I have since I was a child, the isolation was torture.

As the days wore on in 2020, all the distractions that I used to medicate myself were taken away. Social interaction, travel, game day excitement, competition. All gone. What was left was me battling with myself minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day. Reliving all the regrets and pain I had experienced in life - on loop.

Alcohol can hold down demons for awhile, but eventually becomes the strongest demon of them all. After 18 months, the totality of life had broken me. I had convinced myself that I was a despicable person, a person that didn’t deserve the countless wonderful people in my life. Subconsciously I began to pull away. I became a darker version of myself. When you struggle with depression and anxiety, you develop escape plans for yourself. The unfortunate reality of that is that suicide becomes the ultimate escape plan. So, by pulling away from people, or worse yet driving them away, you think you will make it easier for them when you are gone. It’s not rational, but neither is depression.

Less than a year ago, that’s where I was. My wife Renée and I had moved back to Richmond, or crash-landed back in Richmond I should say. To be completely candid, I thought about suicide a lot. I don’t believe I am a person that would ever go through with it, but in a twisted way it was easier for me than thinking about the carnage that was left in the wake of our departure from Blacksburg.

But we had a lot of great friends in Richmond from my previous six-year stint with the Flying Squirrels. One of which is Edwin Quirarte. When we moved back, he was in the midst of his own life transition. For 15 years he had been a professional baseball player. I met him when he was pitching for the Flying Squirrels and we became fast friends. He had recently retired from baseball and had settled down with his wife Cathleen and daughter Sofia in Cathleen’s native Short Pump. When we returned, we got together for dinner and drinks and he said that on Sundays he played pickleball and that it was pretty intense competition. I knew of pickleball, but nothing about it. So I dismissively said maybe I would check it out.

A week later we did. Edwin, me, Renée and Cathleen met at Pouncey Tract Park. It was a Sunday, the weather was perfect and it was packed! The sound of the ball popping immediately registered with me. As did the diversity of the players. Both in ethnicity and age. We put our paddles in the stacker and a few minutes later we were on the court. Edwin knew the general rules and away we went. I figured I would be good at pickleball. I grew up playing tennis and was also fond of saying that the only thing I was truly great at was ping pong. I still believe that. Renée had played tennis in college, Cathleen won a couple of state tennis titles in high school and Edwin was a professional athlete. I figured we would dominate. We did not. We got smoked. Repeatedly. At one point, Renée and I got pickled by a pair of women I’m pretty sure were upwards of 70 years old. They were nice about it though.

I am an extremely competitive person. Some would say to a fault. But it was that competitiveness that had taken me to the top of the sports world. I am also a grinder. And I was hooked. I told myself that day that I was going to become great at pickleball. I watched some strategy videos and we visited the park on weekends. And continued to get destroyed by pretty much everyone. This couldn’t stand. So I started visiting the courts by myself in the mornings to play more regularly. We had recently founded our non-profit, Laaser’s Ladybug Society, which allowed me a very flexible schedule. The regulars at the courts began to teach me the game and my knowledge of the game slowly improved. But I was still what we call a “banger”. I tried way too often to use my athleticism and power to overcome strategy, skill and finesse. Some I could overpower, but the more advanced players continued to crush me. I was undeterred.

One day, I played against a slight man who I had watched play many times. I didn’t want to play him, because I knew he was one of the best players at the park, which also means in the city. But the paddle was in the stacker and I wasn’t going to slink away. It wound up being one of the best things that has ever happened to me. That man was Thaian Nguyen. Him and Ben (also a top player) carved us up 11-1. I don’t remember how we got the one, but I knew I was amazed we did. But after the game, I chatted with Thaian and learned that he gave lessons. He was also an incredibly nice person. So I signed on. I took my first lesson a week later and one of the first things he said was “I believe I can make you a 4.0 player pretty quickly.” I liked that thought. And then he systematically broke my game down and began to rebuild it. In lesson two he changed my grip away from a ping pong grip. All throughout, he taught me the strategies associated with the game. In an extremely encouraging way.

In my recreational games, I began to try to incorporate what I was learning. Of course my execution was inconsistent, but I started to see results. Anybody who works out will tell you that once you see results, you’ll keep coming back. And I gradually got better. And I kept coming back. A lot. I’m still not anywhere close to where I want to be, but I began testing myself against the more advanced players. I still lose, but I can hang a little bit. And I had a goal. To make the senior professional ranks. At 43, I have seven years to get there. People snicker when I tell them that, but honestly I’m dead serious. Who knows if I can do it, but it’s a helluva lot of fun to try. As of writing this I would rate myself a 4.0 player, just as Thaian had said I could be. And I’m not close to done!

Becoming good at pickleball wasn’t what saved me though. It is the community and the opportunity within the game. Thaian has become a friend, and now a colleague. He continues to teach me and will also coordinate our upcoming events. I know that if the courts are dry and it’s above about 35 degrees, I will find some of my new friends at the courts. Alice, Jane, Chris, Tom, the other Tom, Ansh, Ben, Alex, Lauren and the list goes on and on. The courts are my happy place. Between the morning, evening and weekend crowds, I’m willing to bet I know 90% of people's names. And a lot of them know me, and always greet me with a smile. Which I return. I like it there. I have an identity again there. It’s where I want to be. I hate when it rains and I can’t wait for warmer temps to return. I’m not alone in that.

As for the opportunity, like me, the Ladybugs needed an identity. We flailed around a lot in our first six months, but by far the most successful event we threw was our first pickleball tournament, the Ladybug Pickleball Classic. Admittedly, I had no idea what I was doing when I started. Fortunately, others who knew the sport were there to help. I’m proud of the event we threw last year, but it was just the beginning. Did I mention I’m competitive? Well that applies to the Ladybugs as well. Just because it’s for charity, doesn’t mean it can’t be the best. That’s my belief at least. Combined, Renée and I have 35 years of experience in event planning, athletics, marketing, broadcasting, graphic design, etc. Pickleball was exploding popularity and I saw a massive window to host events that were of course for our cause, but that would also cater to the players. Our collective skillsets are perfectly aligned with the sport as well. Plus, I had a lot of friends in the corporate world from my first stint in Richmond and that meant opportunities for sponsors.

Renée memorably told me one day a number of months ago “I don’t want to be the pickleball charity.” She changed her mind shortly thereafter. I was already there. We have geared the Ladybugs towards pickleball and recently announced two events. One will attract top-level players in the region with $10,000 in prize money. That is possible due to corporate partners. Registration fees then go straight to the mission. It has mushroomed from there for me. Because I love making people happy. Particularly my friends. Particularly my pickleball friends. We are in the process of creating a for-profit events company that will fund the Ladybugs so that all of our donations can go straight to the cause rather than to the operation. And for me, it allows expansion into other areas of the sport. I see opportunity there too. I’m sure you may as well.

Mental health is how it all ties together. For me, it is multi-pronged. First, playing the game gives me competition, exercise, companionship and community. That helps me. Philanthropically, our tournaments remain by far our largest fundraisers. It helps others. That makes us feel really good and in turn, helps us more. Professionally, pickleball has opened doors and created connections and opportunities for me. It fuels me. In short, I believe pickleball and mental health go hand-in-hand. I want to advance that marriage. Others have been willing to jump in. The possibilities are endless and that excites me.

The other day as I was furiously sending out emails to potential sponsors and rapidly booking meetings, Renée said that I seemed like a man possessed. I am, a man possessed by pickleball and what it could mean in my life. I am hopeful, I am optimistic. I am - for now - saved. All by a sport that nine months ago I didn’t know anything about. Life is strange that way, and awesome too. Much like pickleball. For those that have been a part of the journey so far, thank you! For the rest, see ya at the courts!