At my 197th and final court, Veterans Park in Bell Gardens, I noticed a jacaranda tree with a few blue-purple flowers billowing in the early December mid-afternoon breeze. I set up a can of balls on one side of the net and tried twice to knock it over with a serve from the other side. I missed both times, but I was close and had fun trying. I took a picture of the already setting sun across the courts. The surface was cracked. The nets were iron mesh, meaning whoever put them there didn’t plan on doing maintenance. Someone had drawn pickleball lines using sidewalk chalk, seemingly having fun, like me.
Public tennis courts don’t have to be great to be good. Played with an open heart, even a minimally adequate court can be a place of joy. And anyone can play on a public tennis court. That’s the spirit I hoped to encourage on my 2 1/2-yearlong quest to play at every one in Los Angeles County.
When I started, my internet research surfaced an estimated 512 public courts across the county. After setting aside courts on school grounds — some of which are open to the public — that left a more doable figure fluctuating in the low 200s. I added courts that people told me about and dropped others when I showed up only to discover they had been converted to pickleball courts or skateparks or soccer fields or had never existed. What you read on the internet can be wrong.
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For the first half of the quest, I traveled exclusively by bicycle or public transit. I believed that driving solo all over L.A. County to play tennis would be environmentally selfish and personally isolating. Traveling by bus was my favorite mode of transportation. The quest had been my 27-year-old daughter’s idea, and I loved sending her photos taken from the bus of our favorite street scenes, such as dramatic tree shadows and dentist signs with self-brushing teeth. One of the main things that kept me going on the quest was the feeling it gave me of being together with my daughter even though she had grown up and moved away.
Happily, I found plenty of partners on social media in all corners of L.A. and from all parts of the globe. I made a new tennis friend from Russia and one from Ukraine. The quest was world peace — until I spoiled it with my slice.
The slice is a trick shot. You swing underneath the ball to make it bounce sideways. It’s OK to slice sometimes, but I slice too much because slicing is the physical expression of my dark side: sarcasm. I try to keep it to myself, but on a tennis court, the snark in Mark squirms free. Disregarding my intention to hit straight and true, here comes my slice, and here it comes again. By the middle of my quest, Los Angeles had had enough of my slicing.
Except for Timothy, my one new tennis friend who became a close friend, because he slices like a maniac too. Timothy’s ball comes over the net with the this-is-me energy of a dog with his face out a car window. The whole quest has been worth it just to make friends with Timothy, and also to make better friends with Mike the Hat.
There were a lot of guys named Mike at our long-running weekend game at Ladera Park near Inglewood, but Mike is the only one who wears a snap-brim fedora. He further distinguished himself by playing with me all over Glendale and Pasadena.
I have played on many courts in neighborhoods destroyed by the fires. I recently made a somber trek to one of them, Loma Alta Park in Altadena. The courts are intact but surrounded by devastation. It will be a great day when people can play tennis there again.
When my momentum lagged with 50 courts to go, Mike the Hat encouraged me. “This part is work,” he said, and the cheerful way he said it inspired me to make changes. I dropped the public transit rule because there was no way I was going to finish without driving, and I needed to finish so I could find out what happens next.
I also leaned into extreme singles, a euphemism I invented for playing alone. Spending all that time by myself on tennis courts reinforced my determination to keep working on making new friends. For example, to celebrate playing the last court on my list, I got a box of churro cookies at La Monarca Bakery & Cafe in Highland Park. I brought them to play doubles at Hermon Park with Timothy and two other guys who are fine with us the way we are.
Timothy was wearing a T-shirt of his own design that read “INSECURITY” in big block letters. “It’s like I’m working security but the opposite,” he explained, which led to a jolly conversation about the pros and cons of explaining jokes to make sure people understand why they’re funny.
Our joshing made me feel so open-hearted that I offered cookies to the guys playing serious singles on the court next to us. I felt happy when they said heck yeah and even happier when one of them said, “Weren’t we on a tennis team together?”
I immediately recognized Will — “You’re that cool guy I always wanted to be friends with!” He said, “Yup, that’s me.” We made a follow-up date and merrily hit together, which makes me feel like my quest was not a failure at making lots of new tennis friends, but more like a preparation for success.
I have already taken the initiative by revisiting the most welcoming of the courts, Panorama Recreation Center. Two years ago, one of the regulars called out, “Come back again and next time we’ll drink a beer.”
That friendly invitation motivated me to finish the quest so I could take him up on it. When I arrived, four Filipino guys — I would guess late 60s into 70s — were playing a very proficient game of doubles: not much pace but lots of smart angles and tactical lobs. I nodded when someone hit a winner and tossed back stray balls that rolled my way.
When they finished, one of those guys asked if I wanted to play. I thanked him and he said, “Of course. These courts belong to everyone.”
We hit nice and easy, sustaining our very first rally like an arrow pointing both ways. I blurted out “Let’s go for 100,” and he said, “I can’t do over 20,” but we had left 20 behind long ago. I was elated. No slice, just connection.
This made me realize that I want to commemorate the quest with a victory lap to any free public courts in L.A. County parks I inadvertently missed.
I’ll play with anyone.
Standout courts
And for those ready to play on courts that stood out to me, here are my highly-opinionated best of picks, from the most scenic to the most zen. My quest taught me that tennis courts are much more alike than different. That said, the following courts have distinguished themselves with intriguing features.