A Myriad of Thoughts on Squash
It’s cold in San Francisco. Well, cold by California standards, which means a palpably polar 50 degrees farenheit. While it’s certainly warm enough to run comfortably outside, I definitely gravitate toward indoor activities now that outdoor excursions require an extra layer or two and the sun sets by 5:30pm.
I grew up on the east coast, where seasonal shifts had a much greater impact on my routines and sense of wellbeing. I tried playing squash for the first time in college because my school had super fancy squash facilities thanks to some very specific endowment gift it was a good sport to play indoors when there was too much snow on the ground to run around outside. Having played tennis my whole life, I found that my racquet skills translated reasonably well. What surprised me about squash, though, was its exhilarating pace and flow of movement.
You’re not only focused on winning points, but also on not getting hit by your opponent or by the ball. When I play squash, I feel a bit like I’m surrendering control of my body, because I don’t even have time to notice that I’m moving. The game demands your complete attention and leaves no room for you to muse on the day’s distractions.
Squash moves faster than tennis because of the smaller court and lighter ball. In relative terms, think of a sports car zooming on the highway vs a sedan moving in relative traffic. For the recreational squash player, you could be hitting a groundstroke at around 70-100 mph, whereas an average tennis player might be hitting somewhere around 40-70 mph.
The quarters are also tight. The close proximity is part of what makes squash so intense. You’re constantly maneuvering around your opponent in a confined space, which demands good spatial awareness and court etiquette to avoid collisions or interference.
An aside about movement rules: In a typical squash exchange, players follow a disciplined rotation pattern to avoid collisions despite the tight quarters:
After hitting the ball, the striker immediately moves to the "T" position (the center of the court where the lines intersect). This creates a clear path for the opponent to access the ball. This "hit and clear" pattern is fundamental to squash etiquette and safety.
Players must provide their opponent with a fair view of the ball and direct access to hit it. If you're blocking their path to the ball, they can call a "let" or receive a point through a "stroke" decision if the interference is significant.
Despite these precautions, players experience light contact at all levels, and more significant collisions can happen in heated amateur games when players lack proper court movement discipline (not to mention, when you’re a relative beginner like I am, it’s a whole endeavor in and of itself not to sprint into a wall when the walls are ten paces apart from each other, à la Platform 9 3/4 but without the magic.)
In such a small, enclosed space, some of my friends find this "scary," but I argue that with a few rounds of practice, anyone might find it thrilling. And yet, I’ve only played twice since moving to San Francisco!
Few facilities offer squash courts in San Francisco. Finding public squash courts presents a challenge¹, and memberships for gyms that house courts go from $129 per month for a UCSF gym membership or $269 per month at the Bay Club. Both of these facilities are quite far from where I live.
Luckily, I've found considerable joy in many other activities. You can often find me running, climbing, and doing yoga, all of which are popular and easy to do here. And with San Francisco's wonderfully temperate weather, it's usually possible to play pickup sports and be active outdoors year-round. (Suffice to say, every cold-tolerant cell in my east-coast-constitution shriveled up within months of moving here.) Yet even with the plethora of athletic options in a city like this, I’m still chasing that feeling of perfect focus that only seems to happen when I'm desperately trying not to get hit by a small rubber ball traveling at breakneck speed.
When I do get to play, it's wonderful—being competitive, dripping sweat, and navigating space in ways that feel absent from my workday, which is usually spent at a computer. This active, social engagement not only fulfills me personally—it confirms what researchers have discovered about wellbeing practices. Studies on social determinants of health consistently show that genuine relaxation often involves doing something active with other people, not just sitting on the couch and scrolling. There's compelling evidence about the efficacy of social prescribing on improving wellness.
Perhaps if I truly committed to making squash a priority, I'd invest in one of those gym memberships instead of continuing at my current local climbing gym where all my friends go (which, at $107/month, isn't exactly cheap either). But that's the thing about squash—it exists in this strange space—stimulating enough to captivate me, yet inconvenient enough to elude my regular routine.
Footnote 1:
Part of this accessibility issue stems from squash's history. Private clubs and elite schools historically dominated the sport, dating back to its popularization in British boarding schools in the late 1700s.
Building and maintaining also requires substantial investment. A standard squash court costs between $40,000–$120,000 to construct for just 672 square feet. Court construction demands specific requirements:
Precision-engineered walls meeting strict rebound standards
Specialized flooring made from hardwoods like Canadian maple or ash
Walls typically made of plaster or sand-filled panels
Glass back walls for visibility
These specific requirements make squash courts approximately 795% more expensive per square foot than multipurpose courts like basketball, despite being 85.7% smaller in total area.
