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Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Feeling the Heat: Grand Canyon State Games

The 2012 Grand Canyon State Games - Arizona State Pickleball Championships is the third largest Pickleball tournament in the nation with 410 participants. It is a doubles tournament with divisions for Men's, Women's, and Mixed, and is subdivided into skill levels and age categories on specific days.

The registration table was filled with laptops situated in tilted black tubs that shaded the displays from the intense light. Holes were drilled in the tubs to allow for the power cords. Rows of bottled water lined the table as they were handed out one by one. Red terrycloth wristbands donned the water bottles handed out to every player as the mark of the even server. The laser printer continually droned out score sheets. The PA speakers bellowed player matches, court announcements, and referee assignments. Under sun screens, vendor tables filled with wares trying to tempt buyers. All the details were in place.

The tournament was bustling with people that love the sport. Saturday was a day for Men's and Women's skill based brackets. Twenty courts solidly pumped out matches as only a well run tournament can boast.  The artery between the back sixteen courts was clogged with people soaking in the warm rays. Distant friends greeted each other with smiles and hugs. Laughter filled the air. There was a sense of camaraderie even among new acquaintances as business cards were exchanged.

Padded metal folding chairs lined the chain linked fence as players scoped out the competition and spectators tried to glimpse a match. Regional bands of people followed each other’s brackets and moved from court to court to cheer each other onto victorious matches. Players that had been bumped from the tournament stayed around all day and supported other players from their club, RV Park, or even state.

The weather was classic sunny. It was the type of intense sun that can burn you in 45 minutes. My Puerto Rican friend, Jewell, once called me a white, white girl. This is no joke; I am. My heritage is German, Irish, and English. I have little hope of a tan, ever. So, competing in a four day outdoor Pickleball tournament in sunny Arizona might not be the best idea for someone of my fairness - especially in the dead of winter at the height of my pastiness.

My partner, Caryn, and I paired in Tucson and decided to give it another shot. Caryn has great net play and soft shots. She loves to draw people off the court with angled shots to set up the next put away shot. In the time that we had competed in December until this tournament, Caryn had medaled in four other tournament events. There was talk of her being moved up to 4.5 after this tournament. So for me to come off of two months of limited indoor play would be tough for this level of competition. I had a lot of slack to pick up on my end.

Caryn and I first played Chris and Cheri. Cheri put away any shot above mid-torso and Chris had great passing shots. After a few rallies, Caryn devised our game plan. Keep it away from Cheri’s strong forehand and hit to Chris’ backhand. We took the match to three games but eventually were bumped to the consolation bracket.

After the third round, I headed towards the shade. I felt like freckles were exploding on my skin. I approached the Pro-Lite vendor table as I saw a folding chair in the shade. I read the name tag of the sales person, Bunny, and I asked if I could use the vacant chair. Bunny looked at me, and my ruby complexion must have told the story as she agreed without hesitation. She offered me a neck cooler as I sat there.

A woman in her early fifties asked me if I was okay. I looked up to see her trim athletic build and short salt and pepper hair. I said I was warm and just needed to sit a bit. She asked me if I had a towel to cool myself and I replied that I don’t carry one. She immediately rustled through her backpack, retrieved a fingertip towel, and soaked it in the drinking fountain. She handed me the towel and said when I was finished with the towel to just leave it with Bunny. Then she disappeared into the crowd, and I never got her name.

An adjacent vendor suggested I take off my shoes and socks and pour cold water over my feet. Sanjoy was walking by and saw my bare feet splashing in the small puddles. He sat next to me and asked if I had been drinking fluids. I told him that I alternated a bottle of water, then a bottle of Gatorade during every game. He noticed my bottle was getting low and promptly rose to fill it for me.

Mr. Wells, the volunteer first aid attendant, approached me with his wide brimmed hat that shaded his pale complexion. He spoke slowly with a calming tone. “How are you feeling? Do you have any dizziness? Any blurred vision?”

After the fourth round, I sat on a large tournament cooler as I couldn’t find a chair in the shade. I wiped my arms legs with a cold towel. I took off my shoes and socks again. Sanjoy stopped and gave me some crackers until his wife returned with some peanut butter. Robin filled my water bottle; I removed my hat and she poured ice-cold water over my head. Donna secured a bag of ice from the first aid station and Robin held the bag on my neck. I even put ice cubes in my sports bra - any means to get my core to cool down in the unseasonably warm weather. Caryn retrieved a large bath towel, and I placed the soaked towel on my head.

Round five was announced, and we were on the front four courts. Robin volunteered to carry all of my items to the court as I headed toward the bathroom. I removed my shirt and drenched it in the sink. I put on the sopping shirt and shrieked at the cold fabric. I gnawed on a peanut butter sandwich from Donna as I tied my shoes. Sanjoy was our referee and informed us of the particulars of the fifteen minute medical timeout. Our opponents were just as curious about the medical timeout as one was nursing a pulled hamstring. During warm-up, Caryn assured me that it was just a game and not worth my health. I appreciated the reminder, and we started to play. We took timeouts as water breaks rather than strategic meetings. Ultimately we won 15-11.

Round six was announce for the back sixteen courts, and we were to play Chris and Cheri, the pair that had bumped us into the consolation bracket. Mr. Wells approached me again and asked about my condition. I assured him that I had been drinking plenty and sweating out a substantial amount. He briefed me on the regulations of a medical timeout. I thanked him and entered the gate for the match.

We switched sides at eight points and in the second half of the match I could feel the day’s exhaustion hitting me. My legs were complaining and my ankles were sore - still I wasn’t about to give up. It was my serve, and for the first time in three days and countless matches, I had hit my serve wide. My mental capacity was there, but my body was ready to surrender. The match ended at 15-9 and we had taken fourth out of sixteen. Chris and Cheri went on to win the silver medal. I feel that I let my partner down but was happy to know that we had only been knocked out of the competition by the second best team.

Although I had traveled to this tournament alone from Illinois, I was never without family. In my time of near heat stroke, my team of Pickleball Moms and Dads were with me every step of the way. The sense of community was unmistakable.