Excerpts from The Believer: Ask Carrie: Winter 2025
Carrie Brownstein delivers a few sports-related tips and pointers.
Q: My partner is the captain of a coed dodgeball league and has started hinting that he wants me to attend more games. I went to one recently and found myself feeling secondhand embarrassment for him. The self-serious competition, the mock leadership, the flaring tempers, the matching uniforms (which he designed)—all this ado over a game we all played as twelve-year-olds. I’m not usually so judgmental, but something about watching him get so worked up about these games has brought out a new side of me. I truly don’t know if I can go to another game and keep the grimace off my face. How do I excuse myself from attending without hurting his feelings?
Dodging Mortification
Minneapolis, MN
A: I’m getting vicarious embarrassment simply by reading your question. And the words mock leadership gave me chills. I’ve witnessed someone I love strategize about navigating Costco like he’s General MacArthur, and I had another friend treat the rules for her destination birthday weekend as if they were life-or-death. It’s difficult to watch someone place disproportionate importance or gravity on a situation when it’s not warranted. But it’s excruciating when it’s your partner, because it creates a cognitive dissonance, forcing you to question whether you know this person at all. Yet you do know your partner, which means you know that, underneath the judgment, something about this dodgeball league is important to him. And hopefully he knows you, too, which is why I’m going to recommend you never set foot on a dodgeball court (field? green? elementary school playground?) again. Yes, his feelings might get a little hurt, but derision and scorn are much more corrosive to a relationship. I would suggest telling your partner something along these lines: I love you, I’m glad you enjoy dodgeball, but I think I’ll better appreciate your enthusiasm and this facet of you if I can support you from afar. In general, it’s healthy to have friends and activities that fall into the “yours,” “mine,” “ours” categories. Coed dodgeball can and should be his.
But remember: If his team goes to nationals and they air the game live on ESPN, you need to attend.
Q: Some friends and I came up with the wholesome idea of meeting every week at the neighborhood court for some low-stakes hooping. None of us grew up playing basketball, and our meetups were a fun excuse to get some exercise outside and see one another. Our group gradually expanded, as friends invited friends, and strangers at the park joined in, and now our group chat has over twenty people.
On the one hand, it’s great: We can reliably get a pickup game going just by dropping a message. On the other hand, the dynamic has shifted completely. Suddenly people are diving across the concrete after loose balls, petty fouls are being called, and some of our smaller players are getting pushed around. We never meant for this to become some sort of ego-fueled proving ground, but here we are.
Do you have advice for cooling off the competition and keeping things lighthearted, or is it wiser for those of us in the original group to cut our losses and start a new meetup, with the original vibe intact?
Austin F.
Los Angeles, CA
A: I started playing pickleball a few years ago, thinking it was nothing more than recreation and a way to meet new people. Instead, I found myself around a bunch of amateur athletes, some of whom played four to six hours a day, five days a week, and who unironically talked as if they might go pro. Imagine any other sport—basketball, for instance!—wherein someone who took up playing in adulthood thought they had a legit shot in the NBA against Luka Dončić or Giannis Antetokounmpo. What I’ve since realized is that delusion is a facet of recreational sports. Like karaoke, rec play is both actual and a simulacrum; part of the enjoyment involves projection and fantasy. So I’m not surprised your pickup game has turned into a transference-laden proving ground. I’m also not certain that, with points to be scored and games to be won, you can dial down people’s competitive nature.
But you can try!
What I’d hold on to is the sense of community. Instead of forming a splinter group, I’d suggest splitting the meetups into two parts. Make this division explicit in the wording or invitation. The first part is competitive, for the folks avoiding therapy; let them wear one another out in an agreed-upon fashion in which everyone is going for it. Those uninterested in the heated contest can warm up, hydrate, hang with friends, or DJ “jock jams” to keep everyone pumped. Or maybe you’ll actually enjoy the heightened play if you know it’s temporary. Then, when that game is over, the second one starts. And this one is for fun. Be specific about what constitutes acceptable behavior: no pushing, no flagrant fouls, et cetera. I suspect even the most jocular and amped among you will appreciate the casual, looser game; with the levity codified, there’s nothing to prove. However, if there are still holdouts—bruisers who simply can’t be chill—kindly direct them toward the NBA tryouts.