Breaking Out of Sameness in Pickleball and in Life - Part Five of the Mental Side of Pickleball

By David Pascolla

Have you ever stepped onto the pickleball court and felt like you were pressing “repeat”?

The same paddle you’ve used for years. The same partners. The same patterns—maybe even the same mistakes. You might still be playing well and winning your share of games, but something feels flat. Comfortable. Predictable. That feeling has a name: sameness. Sameness isn’t a bad thing. In many ways, it’s comforting. It gives us routine and familiarity. But it’s also where progress—and often joy—quietly goes to sleep. When we live on autopilot—on the court or in life—we stop challenging our bodies and minds in ways that lead to real growth, and that subtle but important feeling of being truly alive begins to fade.

My soul is always brightened when I play with someone just starting out in pickleball. They exude a wonderful sense of curiosity, excitement, and an eagerness to learn and grow. That energy—the curiosity, the presence, the hunger to learn—is what novelty creates.

The Value of Novelty

This is where novelty comes in. Novelty simply means doing something new or unfamiliar, even in small doses. Our brains are wired to respond to it. When we introduce novelty, the brain becomes more alert, more engaged, and more adaptable. New experiences strengthen neural connections, helping us learn faster, stay mentally sharp, and feel more energized. In short, novelty wakes us up—sometimes in ways we didn’t realize we needed.

“When was the last time you did something for the first time?”

— John Maxwell

Sometimes growth looks like a narrow street with no easy way out.

I was reminded of this recently when my wife, Stacy and I spent an extended stretch of time in Italy—not because it was glamorous, but because it quietly disrupted routines we didn’t even realize we depended on. How we moved through the day. How we navigated conversations. Even how we slowed down. One afternoon, Google Maps led us into a one-way street through a small village that was barely wide enough for our rental car. I folded in the side mirrors and kept going, fully committed whether it worked or not. It was stressful in the moment, but we eventually made it out the other side. In that moment, there was no autopilot—only attention.

Looking back, that experience stands out as one of my favorite memories—not because it was comfortable, but because it required presence, adaptability, and a willingness to move forward without certainty. That’s novelty. And it has a way of waking us up. Without familiar patterns to fall back on, everything required more attention and curiosity. I remember thinking how alive that felt. And it struck me that the same principle applies directly to pickleball.

Novelty on the Court

On the court, novelty might mean trying a new serve, committing to getting to the net faster, or playing with different partners and opponents. It might mean focusing on movement, patience, or strategy instead of relying on the same shots that feel safe. I’m always encouraged when I see a player drilling with a friend or taking a lesson or two—because what they’re really saying is, I don’t want to stay where I am or where I’ve been.

Even small changes force the brain to pay attention again—and attention is where improvement begins. So ask yourself: Where in your game are you staying comfortable simply because it’s familiar?

Novelty Off the Court

Off the court, the principle is no different. When life becomes overly predictable, our thinking follows those same stagnant routines. Introducing novelty—changing a habit, learning a skill, or approaching a familiar situation with a fresh mindset—helps rewire the brain for flexibility. It reminds us that we're capable of more than repetition. From time to time I have to challenge myself to say 'yes' rather than gravitating toward what is safe, predictable and comfortable. Whatever your age, we can all lean in towards new people and experiences, because that is where memories are ultimately made.

As we look toward 2026, think of it as a year to intentionally invite novelty into your game and your life. Not to overhaul everything, but to gently disrupt what’s become automatic. Curiosity over comfort. Exploration over habit. Growth over predictability. But if everything stays exactly the same, nothing really changes. Sometimes, one unfamiliar step is all it takes to wake us back up to feel present, challenged, and alive again.