Pickleball Drama in Kadıköy: Public Courts and the Battle for Court Time

I’ve played pickleball all around the world but nothing prepared me for the theatrics of Kadıköy’s public tennis courts. Yes, you read that right: a public tennis court. Who would’ve thought that this little slice of asphalt would be the stage for some of the most jaw-dropping, dramatic moments of my three-month pickleball adventure in Istanbul? But let's rewind a bit.

The Court
We were there once a week. The plan was simple: get to the court, play pickleball, maybe sweat a little under the scorching sun, then head off to grab lunch. The court is a community space, and there’s no way to reserve it—it's a game of luck of the draw. If the court’s free, you claim it. If someone’s already on it, you wait your turn. Seems fair, right? Well, not everyone shares that sentiment.

The Entitled Ones
On Monday, August 26, things took a sharp left turn when we encountered these young girls (and by girls, I mean the kind of young women who are very much still girls). Now, I’m all for youthful exuberance, but this was something else. They had figured out how to "reserve" their spot in a way that wasn’t exactly... honest. The first time, their mother—or some older woman—stood by to "hold" the court for them while the players before them finished up. No big deal, right? Just wait until they’re done. But things got interesting when these girls took a 15-minute break—yes, in the middle of their "game"—to smoke cigarettes, sip drinks, and snack on food. Oh, and did I mention the actual playing part? Most of it consisted of them wandering around the court, chatting, and barely hitting the ball once every minute. A volley? What's that?

I confronted them during their little intermission, as anyone who knows me would expect. After all, this wasn’t exactly playing tennis or pickleball; it was more like a social hour in the sun. When I informed them that their behavior didn’t quite meet the “playing” criteria, they gave me that whiny, “but we're so cute” look. Let’s just say it wasn’t a pleasant exchange.

The Showdown
Fast forward to Wednesday, August 28. We arrived with high hopes, ready for some good, honest pickleball. As we approached, we noticed an instructor and his pupil on the court. Knowing they might be there for a while, we resigned ourselves to waiting. No biggie. Sometimes you have to wait for a good game.

Thirty minutes passed. We were getting antsy. Then, one of the "pukey girls"—as I’ve affectionately dubbed them—appeared. She said something to the instructor, who, by the way, seemed a bit nervous about the whole exchange. It wasn’t long before the second girl showed up. And this is where things took a turn for the ridiculous. The instructor, realizing his window of opportunity was closing, signaled for the girls to enter the court. I immediately shot up from my bench and calmly, but firmly, said, “The fuck you are!” Yes, I went there. Everyone stopped in their tracks. I guess the phrase transcends language barriers. 🤷🏻‍♀️

A confrontation followed, with the instructor trying to convince us that the girls had reserved the court, even though they had left earlier and had no legitimate claim to it. As we exchanged words (and, let’s be honest, a bit of heated dialogue without raising our voices), D asked the instructor: “Is this a public court?” He said yes. D followed up with: “Do you own the court? Do you have authority to reserve it?” And let’s just say, the instructor wasn’t exactly equipped to deal with the awkward truth that the answer was no.

In the end, I stated, “We’ve waited 45 minutes. It’s a public court. It's ours.” He nodded, acknowledged our point, and graciously said, “You’re right. Have a good game.” And with that, D shooed the instructor and his pupil out of the court, and we had it all to ourselves. The girls—well, they learned a valuable lesson that day: entitlement doesn’t always win, and sometimes you just have to respect the rules...and your elders.

The Real World
Look, I get it: everyone’s in a hurry to get their tennis or pickleball game on. But trying to manipulate a public space to your advantage? Not cool. As for the girls—oh, the drama of youth—their tactics may have worked on others, but it wasn’t going to work on us. It’s always interesting to see who gets rewarded for their entitled behavior. And in this case, it wasn’t them. They may have tried to reserve their spot, but in the end, it was us who got the court. Welcome to the real world, girls. (For fans of Fried Green Tomatoes: Face it, girls. I'm older and have more insurance.)

After all, sometimes the best games are the ones that happen when no one’s watching—or trying to reserve the court.