Scott has promised a post on the glories of lobbing. I must confess I find them uninteresting and I usually am not interested in chasing them done. Which brings us to a new, third perspective. Pickleball is a lot older than you might imagine. Here is a short essay I found that lays out a position, no unalike my own. This is from a guy named Bill, who was quite the player in his day. Oh, things were different then, but here is some wisdom that has passed through ancient times and now to us. Behold mortals!
To lob, or not to lob, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous dinks,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing, lob them. To poach—to push,
No more; and by a point to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To dink, to drop;
To chip, perchance to slam—ay, there's the rub:
For in that slap of death what nets may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal court,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a rally.
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