In a realm where paddles dance like shadows in the twilight glow,
Where laughter mingles with the thwack of a ball,
A titan once ruled, but now, the winds blow,
Through courts once vibrant, now echoing the call.
Ben Johns, his name a symphony of skill,
The maestro of pickleball, orchestrating delight,
With every stroke, he bent the game to his will,
A champion’s odyssey, dazzling and bright.
Yet, one day, with the sun hanging low on the crest,
He whispered his thoughts, startling the crowd,
A transition, abrupt, an unexpected quest,
As if the stars themselves had briefly bowed.
“Thank you for the love, for the moments we shared,
For every match, every cheer, every tear shed,
But my heart seeks a different place, unprepared,
To venture beyond, to follow the thread.”
The announcement, a ripple across hearts and minds,
As fans clutched their paddles, staring in disbelief,
In the hush of the crowd, a silence that binds,
A mixture of sorrow, joy, and bittersweet grief.
Sponsors stood stunned, their plans now awry,
The face of the sport, now a story untold,
Yet heroes are forged not just by the high,
But in the choices they make, in the paths they unfold.
From bright, shining courts, to shadows unknown,
A journey awaits beyond the bright glare,
For those who create, in the seeds they have sown,
It is often from endings that new dreams repair.
And so we remember this moment so rare,
Where a champion chose to step into the dusk,
For it’s courage that lingers in the air,
To embrace the unknown, to trade what they must.
As the echoes of pickleball softens the pain,
And the court lays silent, the net gently sways,
May we honor his journey, though it may seem plain,
For in the heart of the game, his spirit forever plays.
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