Famous Blogger Wins Palmer Pickleball Tournament

I've told you before about my prowess as a Hearts player. I've won multiple tournaments, from here to Las Vegas. But I'm not one to rest on my laurels. No, siree. Yesterday, I handily defeated a group of grade school brats in Palmer Township's First Annual Pickleball Tournament, played at Fairview Park. If you never heard of it, you should pay closer attention to social media. A bunch of these little kids started crying, but I just laughed at them and said, "There's no crying in pickleball."

The day started, of course, with a 20-mile bike ride. My grandson and I started at Fairview Park, rode to WaWa to load up on water, and then shot down the Palmer Bike Path, picked up the Delaware and Lehigh trail, and rode straight to Sand Island and back.

Along the way, a tree had fallen across the path close to Freemansburg. While most cyclists were standing around the fallen timber with their thumbs up their asses, my grandson and I vaulted over it with ease. On the way back, we stopped and I picked the caber up and tossed it about 30' or so into the Lehigh River.

Take that, you Scottish pricks!&
Not to be outdone, my grandson swam out and picked it up in the river itself, and tossed it in the direction of the Steel Stacks while doing a back stroke. It went right in one of them, too.

That was a definite three-pointer.

I have no idea what the hell is going on in Bethlehem. Hoops have returned to the basketball courts, but the tennis courts are still under lock and key. In what world does that make any sense? It's certainly easier to practice social distancing on a tennis court than it is with basketball, but what do I know?

My grandson and I continued our ride back to Fairview, scaling the rather steep hill that leads to the Bethlehem Boat Club at an average speed of about 22 mph. It seemed too easy, so we did it again. We made it back to Fairview just in time for the pickleball tournament.

By this time, it was boiling hot. Very few of the little kids could take the heat, and kept keeling over.
We made short work of them. After tying in about 30 games, my grandson and I flipped a coin and I was determined to be the winner.

Next to the pickleball courts, a bunch of high school kids from Easton, Wilson, Freedom and Liberty were getting ready for their upcoming basketball season. They were distracted by our dinks and numerous other athletic achievements. It was only a matter of time before they were on the pickleball courts, mostly to cheer for me.

Many of them told me they would be abandoning their high school careers in the hope of getting pickleball scholarships, but I talked them out of it. They just don't have what it takes.