The short answer: World Pickleball Magazine is following twelve players on the road to the 2026 English Open at the NEC in Birmingham. They include Stephen Hargreaves, who trains around Amazon night shifts, Zoe Ashbridge, who lost every match last year and has since won tournament gold, nursing student Emily Williams, wheelchair player Simon Heaps and Welsh pioneer Kath Knowles.
Twelve players. One summer. One road to the English Open. From wheelchair champions to 7am drill sessions, World Pickleball Magazine begins following the stories behind Europe’s biggest tournament.
The sport that took over their lives
The lights inside the sports hall in Hull do not flicker on until late evening, but by then Stephen Hargreaves has already been awake for hours.
He has finished another night shift at Amazon. Somewhere between family life, organising his own club in Doncaster and chasing the elusive jump to 4.0 level pickleball, he has squeezed in another 100-mile round trip for training.
On Thursdays, that journey takes him to the We Do Pickleball centre in Hull. On Wednesdays, it might be Grantham. Most evenings end the same way. Watching PPA Tour matches deep into the night, studying patterns, rewinding rallies, trying to understand why the best players in the world make the decisions they do.
“I want to play it every minute of every day.”
Across the country, alarm clocks are going off before sunrise for reasons that have nothing to do with work.
At 7am, Zoe Ashbridge is already on court drilling backhand dinks before the working day begins. Last year she walked into the English Open unsure whether she even deserved to be there. She lost every match she played. This week, she won a gold at a tournament and spoke with the quiet confidence of somebody beginning to realise she belongs.
In North Wales, Emily Williams is trying to balance nursing placements, GCSE revision sessions with her son, committee work at Anglesey Pickleball Club and preparation for the biggest tournament of her year.
“I’m stretched, but I’m determined.”
Meanwhile, Simon Heaps is spending part of his week hitting 200 serves from a wheelchair, sharpening movements and refining chair adjustments ahead of the English Open. At 70 years old, the former England and Great Britain table tennis international has already conquered one sport. Now he wants another title in another arena.
“Proper Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance,” he says, still carrying the mindset of an elite athlete decades after first competing internationally.
And in Wales, Kath Knowles is temporarily off court altogether.
The woman who helped establish pickleball communities across Anglesey and played a major role in the growth of Pickleball Wales is currently battling a hamstring injury. Physio exercises have replaced tournaments for now. Beyond missing matches, she fears losing something much bigger.
“I’ve realised how empty and different my life would be without pickleball.”
This is the reality behind the English Open.
Beyond the medals, livestreams and packed halls at the NEC in Birmingham. Beyond the rankings, draws and podium photographs.
For the players World Pickleball Magazine is following on the Road to the English Open, the tournament has already started to reshape daily life.
Sleep schedules are changing. Holidays are being planned around tournaments. Bodies are being pushed. Confidence is rising and collapsing again within the same week. New friendships are forming. Old sporting identities are returning.
Some are chasing medals.
Some are chasing proof.
Some are simply trying to hold on to the feeling the sport has given them.
And somewhere between the early morning drills, the motorway miles, the injury rehab and the late-night match study, pickleball has quietly stopped being just a hobby.
Pickleball has taken over
For some players, the road to the English Open looks carefully planned and balanced.
For others, it has started to consume almost every spare hour available.
Stephen Hargreaves laughs when he describes his pickleball life as “hectic”, but there is an intensity underneath the joke that many players inside the sport will recognise immediately. Two years ago, he decided it was time to put down the gaming controller and direct his competitiveness elsewhere. Now his weeks are built around league matches, high-level sessions, tournaments, drilling and long drives across the country searching for stronger opposition.
There are weekly sessions in Hull with 4.0+ players preparing for the English Open. There are trips to Grantham to work with his doubles partner. There is league play with Grid Pickleball in North Yorkshire, where his team opened the season with twelve wins from twelve matches. Then there is the constant background noise of improvement. Watching PPA Tour matches. Studying patterns. Trying to close the gap between where he is and where he believes he can reach.
The danger, he admits openly, is burnout.
A recent knee problem, caused by a Baker’s cyst, has forced him to think more carefully about how much training his body can absorb. Yet even while talking about the injury, the excitement still spills through. He talks about singles losses that suddenly became encouraging instead of disappointing. About realising how far he has come. About finally feeling like he belongs in stronger company.
That same obsession with improvement exists in a very different form for Zoe Ashbridge.
Her route into pickleball began at the English Open itself in 2024. She attended because a client was exhibiting there. At the time, she barely knew what pickleball was. Now she plans her entire working week around it.
Because she is self-employed, she has built a life where pickleball sessions fit around work rather than the other way around. Some days involve two separate sessions. Others start before sunrise.
This week, she described meeting fellow player Lauren Brown at 7am specifically to work on backhand dinks before the working day started. They are part of a women’s development squad coached by Gemma Southall, with sessions built around repeating and refining specific shots rather than simply playing games.
A ball machine has become part of the routine too.
“Who couldn’t resist going on a ball machine when you’ve got the whole court to yourselves?” she laughed.
Twelve months ago, the emotional tone around the tournament was completely different. Zoe arrived at the English Open wondering whether she deserved to be there at all. She lost every match. Instead of retreating from the experience, she doubled down on it.
Now there is less fear and more curiosity.
“This year feels different,” she admitted.
Hari Bollineni’s story is still at an earlier stage, but the pull of the sport already sounds familiar.
He started pickleball last year with no racket sports background and now finds himself trying to balance full-time work with social sessions, drilling, tournaments and helping grow the game around Worksop. What has struck him most is how quickly the sport humbles players who think they have figured it out.
“Some days I feel like I’m improving quickly,” he said. “Other days the game humbles you very fast.”
That tension between confidence and frustration appears again and again in these stories.
The obsession is less about winning medals yet than about the feeling that another level exists somewhere just ahead, if only enough hours can be poured into finding it.
The journey has already started
Over the next thirteen weeks, some of these players will arrive in Birmingham carrying confidence.
Others will arrive carrying injuries, doubts or exhaustion.
Some partnerships will click. Others will not. DUPR ratings will rise and fall. There will be breakthrough performances, brutal losses, surprise runs and difficult drives home. There will almost certainly be moments where players question whether all the hours, motorway miles and nerves were worth it.
And then there will be moments that remind them exactly why they started.
A packed court at the NEC.
A medal match.
A comeback win.
A new friendship.
A message from somebody inspired to try the sport for the first time.
For now, though, the Road to the English Open exists in quieter places.
In early morning drill sessions before work.
In wheelchairs loaded into cars before league matches.
In physio exercises done while hoping a body holds together for one more tournament.
In nursing placements, family schedules, motorway services and WhatsApp groups full of tactical conversations.
This is something far more recognisable than the polished side of professional sport.
People trying to become something more than they were a year ago.
People trying to belong.
People trying to prove something to themselves before time, injury or life gets in the way.
The tournament itself has not started yet.
But for these twelve players, the journey already has.
