I haven’t played many sports in my life. If you don’t count cheerleading, I’ve been a member of exactly (stop here for a moment while I do the count) zero sports teams.

I never tried to score goals, outrun the other team, hit home runs, throw a three-pointer, catch a good pass or set up a great offensive maneuver. I never even experienced a sports injury.

I was a sports fan and I cheered on many teams, but I didn’t compete in the scoreboard sense. 

Until recently. Until I discovered something new. Something called Wallyball. 

For those pickleball players not in the know, Wallyball is a close cousin to volleyball, except it is played on a racquetball court. Players use the walls to bank shots — creating fun, albeit challenging, angles and trajectories. 

I prefer it to pickleball for one main reason. Where I live, pickleball is played outdoors — often in heated and sunny conditions. Wallyball is played indoors, where there is air conditioning. 

As I grow older, I find I have an affinity for air conditioning.

I’ve played on this team sport for three years. I’ve met some really great friends. I’ve found it to be a super supportive environment. Plus we’re all exercising and working up a sweat (despite the air conditioning). It’s a win-win situation.

Or at least it was. Until the injury. 

No one wants a sports injury, or to see anyone suffer from a sports injury. It can be life-changing. Luckily for me, my injury wasn’t that. 

My injury was to a finger. (Not that finger!)

Fingers are often in injured during Wallyball. They get jammed when you hit the ball at the wrong angle. 

(Did I mention Wallyball is about angles?)

My injury did not involve a jammed finger, but it did involve bruising.

My finger turned black and blue. At first I wasn’t sure how it happened.

The ball used in Wallyball is soft. I hadn’t hit it in any way that caused pain. 

I was perplexed, but then someone made a good play and I clapped for them and it hit me. (Not the ball, the answer.)

Earlier, I alluded to the fact that I’ve been a cheerleader. You know what they say about cheerleaders.

No, not that. 

What I was thinking was “You can take the leader out of the cheerleader, but you can’t take the cheer out of the leader,” or something like that. You get my gist. Cheerleaders aren’t famous for their worksmithartistry.

Anyway, I try to encourage other players. I use my voice (as cheerleaders are wont to do) but I also get physical. (Nod to Olivia Newton-John here) and that most often involves clapping.

They don’t allow pom pons at Wallyball so I work with what I have. My hands.

I clap after a good play. I clap after a bad play. I clap after every play.

I clap a lot. Apparently I may even clap too much (if there can be such a thing).

My sports injury wasn’t because of any of my great sets or gets or volleys or powerful serves. 

It was the clapping. 

The pressure from the repetitive and prolonged clapping caused trauma to the small blood vessels in my finger.  

I’ve heard of people suffering from The Clap, but this is a whole new take on that angle.

Who would’ve guessed? 

I thought I’d never experienced the hazards and body strains of real sports, but I guess I was wrong. Turns out cheering is more dangerous than most people might think.

— Jill Pertler’s column Slices of Life appears regularly in the Times. She can be reached at 

slicescolumn@gmail.com.