Anyone for Pennis? Comedians Trade Bar Hangs for Pickleball Games

On a cold Saturday afternoon in Wheat Ridge, laughs come between and during the volleys. A dozen or so Denver stand-up comics lace up sneakers, grab paddles and take over the courts at 3rd Shot Pickleball, where trash talk is light, competition is optional and the running joke is that no one calls it pickleball anymore. They call it “pennis.”

“Pickleball is kind of a silly term, so one of our group members came up with the term ‘pennis,’ and that’s what we call it,” says “pickleball fanatic” and local comedian/producer Deb Lastowka. “Our Facebook chat is called the Denver Comedy Pennis Club.”

The monthly pickleball comedian meetup is the brainchild of Lastowka, who became obsessed with the sport two years ago after her sister taught her the fundamentals.

“Pickleball was just a sport that I kept hearing about more and more, and I just got really curious,” Lastowka says. “My sister had been taking lessons through Denver Parks & Rec, so I asked her to teach me how to play. She agreed and taught me the basics. If you’ve ever played before, it definitely gives gym class vibes. It’s just like super fun and easy to pick up, and then from there I was just completely hooked and wanted to keep playing.”

After comparing notes with fellow sober comic Andrew Orvedahl about what fills the social gap when drinks are off the table, Lastowka realized pickleball could be a new gathering point. Games with Orvedahl and Ron Doyle, a Denver-based podcast producer and editor, led to a one-off comics tournament about a year ago, which quickly revealed that comedians weren’t exactly a hyper-competitive pickleball crew. Open play, it turned out, was more their speed.

Since then, the group has settled into a monthly Saturday session — usually around noon, but sometimes later for late-night comics — with a smaller core that plays together a few times a week. About twelve-to-fifteen people show up each month; most have fully caught the bug.

“Some people are competitive, but for the most part, we try to keep it pretty chill and just have a good time,” Lastowka says. “It’s been over a year, and it’s been awesome.”

The scene works because it’s welcoming. The gym knows them. Free paddles appear when needed. And because it’s indoors, the games run year-round, even on days when staying home feels like the easier choice.

“I just sometimes wonder what these people would be doing if they weren’t here playing pickleball,” Lastowka says. “They’d probably be home, staring at a screen, so it’s just pretty cool that this sport exists and that people are out being social and active.”

For comedian Christina Vasili, who has been there since the beginning, the appeal is equal parts community and release. She got pulled into playing pickleball while she was unemployed and had a lot of free time.

“Deb took advantage of me being laid off,” Vasili says. “I would have never thought about playing, but she knew that I had some days off, and she plays during the day sometimes, so she would be like, ‘Oh, we just need a fourth,’ and then it just kind of bloomed from there.”

Though she was initially hesitant to try pickleball, Vasili now eagerly anticipates the monthly meetup. “It’s a nice time to get together with like-minded people from comedy,” Vasili says. “We have things to talk about without drinking, and it’s a good workout. Plus, we have some heated rivalries that are fun to take out on a pickleball court.”

Vasili is also responsible for the group’s unofficial rebrand. “Pickleball is a little bit of a lame term,” she says. “So I thought, pickleball and tennis … pennis.” The name stuck, possibly too well.

“Pennis was just between me and Deb,” Vasili says. “Then, when she started extending it to a bigger group and named our Facebook group that, I was like, ‘I don’t know if this needed to get this big.'”

Others came in skeptical and, to their surprise, ended up falling in love with the sport. Comic Ali Kareem admits he expected pickleball to be corny. “I thought it was going to be stupid, but I really enjoy it,” he says. “It’s easy on my knees. If you’ve never tried it, you should. You’ll have a lot of fun.”

Kareem plays to win. “‘I’m the right amount of competitive,” he says. “I take it seriously. I mean, I have to. Otherwise, why are we even playing? I don’t like losing. I try to keep my competition under control, but yeah, I end up swearing in Arabic all the time. To clarify: I’m not swearing at them. I’m swearing at the way I play it; I’m like, ‘Damn,’ to myself.”

Even though he takes the game seriously, his favorite aspect is the friendships he has developed. “It’s really cool to have community and just play pickleball with the other people and have fun,” Kareem says. “I think that kind of kills the competition more, which is a good thing. We’re all trying to have fun and turn off for a couple hours and just play pickleball.”

For Lastowka, who quit drinking more than four years ago, the games have reshaped her relationship to the local comedy scene. “As a sober comedian, I don’t hang out in bars,” she says. “Without pickleball, I wouldn’t have gotten to know this community as much at all.” Now she plays nearly every day, has joined leagues and keeps expanding the circle. She is even planning on pairing comedy shows with pickleball spaces down the line.

Do pickleball jokes make it onstage? It depends on the comedian. Lastowka makes jokes about it, but Kareem and Vasili keep their pickleball and comedy separate.

“I did a show where I played pickleball with the host, and he had the audacity to say that while bringing me onstage, and then I had to defend myself because I wasn’t ready to be seen publicly as a pickleballer,” Vasili says. “But no, it hasn’t really found its way into my material yet. It will, though. It’s time to start developing the pickleball material. I feel like when you do something long enough, don’t you always write a joke about it? I’ve been keeping this buried away, and now the next step is acceptance.”

Whether pickleball ever becomes punchline fodder matters less than what it’s already become offstage. For a group whose social and professional lives so often orbit bars and late-night shows, the court has offered a rare third space that’s active, sober-friendly and built around showing up for each other. Between games, comics who might never share a bill trade stories, stretch sore legs and reset before heading back into the grind of Denver’s comedy scene.

“It’s been a great way to form community outside the actual places we do comedy,” Lastowka says, glancing around the court as another game starts. “I know I sound like a pickleball fanatic, which I probably am, but I love it. Pickleball is definitely a major part of my life, and this group of comedians to play with has just been great.”