I have been separated from playing pickleball for too long. I was in the early stage of recovery from tennis elbow and easing into my normal playing regimen when the coronavirus pandemic halted physical sports. Recently, I learned it will be a while longer before I can play again (more details below). The separation took me back in a way to the mid-1970s, when by brother Patrick was stationed in the Army in West Germany. Separated by thousands of miles, he stayed in touch with my parents and me by writing us letters. We responded in kind. A few nights ago, overcome by cabin fever and feeling thousands of miles away from a pickleball court, I got into the letter-writing spirit again. I thought of what I would say if I could write a letter to the sport of pickleball. Inspired, I wrote one and I share it here. Unlike the letters my brother sent my parents and me, and vice versa, this is not a “how-is-everything-fine-Ihope” type of letter. It is flowery. As in Shakespearean flowery. …