In Praise of Padel
Padel is the new HYROX.
No it’s not. It’s really not.
Let me back up a bit in case you are one of the few people who have missed HYROX sweeping the world. It’s a cross fit competition of 8 stages, interspersed with 8 X 1KM runs. So you might lunge for a bit then run, perhaps some burpees and then run, row, then run, you get the idea. You can do it solo or in pairs, either way, you’d feel like you’ve put a shift in by the time you finish.
Padel on the other hand is a much less arduous and sweaty pastime. Played as doubles, it is a competitive sport but that doesn’t get in the way of it being incredibly friendly. Any points scored are invariably attributed, by the scorer of said points, to luck or a favourable wind.
Good shot!
No, no, lucky hit.
That kind of thing.
Roughly 400,000 people were playing Padel in the UK last year, in contrast to which, Pickleball (which for a while I thought I was playing, until someone explained the difference) has about 80,000 players.
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I’m not saying Padel is better, but the Pickleball experience is very confusing — there is something called a kitchen, with rules about who’s allowed in it and when. Reminded me of my grandmother who was very territorial about her domain — you entered uninvited at your peril.
Pickleball uses a lightweight plastic ball prone to being carried away by the wind. Padel on the other hand uses a tennis ball, so you can get a good amount of menopausal rage behind it, and are rewarded with a satisfying thwack.
For context, I am categorically rubbish at any sport involving a ball, I just don’t seem to have any hand eye coordination. Yes, I was the girl picked last for every team through school, (the shame still burns) and my husband refuses to play tennis with me because it’s too frustrating. But Padel is kind of ok.
I’m not saying I’m good at it, but the court is small and occasionally I’ve been known to be involved in a rally and even, with the wind in the right direction, to win a point.
Padel sort of blends tennis and squash together — the latter being another ball sport I tried a few times, being run ragged on both occasions by my then boss who didn’t seem to actually move.
The balls are called Padel balls, but in every way resemble a tennis ball. The Padel is exactly that, a bat thing, not sprung in any way, which is helpful given the relatively small size of the court. As in squash, the ball can be hit off the back wall as well off the bounce, giving a second chance for some of those faster balls that you don’t quite get to. It also — more menopause considerations — makes the court a bit of a sweat box in summer as the sun beats down on glass (perspex?) panels.
I’ve never got the hang of tennis scoring and Padel uses the same system, so I go with the flow, couldn’t argue with a point decision even if I wanted to. But there is always someone on court who cares about these things, so it’s not a problem.
It’s a nice friendly game that involves running about and working up a gentle sweat, oh, and you can ditch the leggings — I’ve purchased a skort for the playing of padel and am very much here for it. It has a hidden pocket in which I can put a couple of balls, pulling them out to serve in a very Wimbledon, Centre Court Style, if I say so myself.
Full disclaimer, I have a foot in both camps here — and will be tentatively making my Hyrox debut in December. And, if you’re not a gym person, I can assure you that the cross fit folks are also very lovely, supportive and encouraging. To be sure it is very life affirming to lift, push, pull, throw heavy things in a pumped up noisy environment. I did some of that this morning in fact, and it’s a great way to start the week.
But I also love the gentleness of Padel, it feels like it might have been invented by someone else who never made a school team. Maybe they weren’t particularly bothered about the glory, but just wanted to hit a ball in a joint endeavour and have a runaround.
And that’s fine by me.
