By Isang Udokwere: Can’t lie, it’s hard to know what to expect when traveling to a city whose official local dish is called the “trash plate”. As it turned out, where appearances underpromised, experiences and local culture over delivered. 

We couldn’t have been inside Fairport Pickleball Club for more than 3 minutes, before one of the PPA refs that we had met previously greeted me and ushered me over to meet someone. As we walked, he reminded me that we had previously spoken about the barn on the logo for the Fairport Challenger Tournament, and that he knew the man who owned it. 

Paul Valenti introduced himself with a handshake and an invitation to hitch a ride with him and his daughters to visit their home and the famous pickleball barn. Corey, Connor and I confidently hopped into a strangers car and got a crash course on the Valenti history and their deep roots in community, pickleball lore, and most importantly, family values. 

Paul toured us around his home and courts, then took us to eat at a local breakfast spot. All the while, he alternated between discussing pickleball and family. For the rest of the weekend, we would see JOOLA pros win gold, cheer Josh on for the first time, and more. But two matches really stood out most to me. 

In one of them, Valenti played a mixed doubles match against a team with a particularly chatty opponent. This opponent continuously complained, berated the ref, and caused delays in the match. But it seemed that with every comment made, a member of the local community materialized court side in support of Paul (who remained unfazed and in good spirits). By the time the match ended, at least 30 people had gathered to watch and they erupted in applause. I couldn’t tell if they were cheering for Paul or for the spirit of good sportsmanship. Felt like a W for both.

The second match that I won’t forget was Corey playing with the Valenti kids. It wasn’t the match itself but more so who was playing and where. The legacy of their grandfather, handed down to their father, and now to them was very present all around the barn - the idea that your family name is not assessed by money or material things, but how you treat people. The entire barn was decorated with pickleball artifacts that were nods to the sport and the code of ethics and fair play that goes along with it. All four kids all seemed to understand and embody that as they played. Sports can be competitive and still be fun. Still be wholesome. 

Ultimately I left Fairport Challenger with the assurance (from both on and off the court) that the future of pickleball is in good hands. And the confirmation that a trash plate is not something I’m remotely interested in trying.