It is time I tested my faith – in moral victories in sports, that is. That thought must have been in my subconscious between 9:30 and 10 a.m. June 12. Around that time, I had just won a doubles pickleball game. Normally, I would pack up and head home because: a) our pickleball group in the gym at Richmond City Hall usually finishes play about 9:30 and b) I have a George Costanza-like obsession with ending pickup sports sessions on what the “Seinfeld” character would call a “high note” – i.e., a scoreboard win. But on June 12, I blurted out to the other three players remaining, “Anyone want to play one more?” Or something close to that. When I asked that question, I knew that Patty Wright, my doubles partner in the victory, would be playing against me, based on our system of rotating partners, if the four of us agreed to another game. And I knew my partner and I would have a daunting task if that were the case. Although I have not kept track, I would guess I lose more games than I…