Still Competing. Still Learning. Still Becoming.
The Long Game of Purpose
There is something quietly powerful about watching a seventy-year-old man walk onto a professional court with the same composure as someone half his age.
Not defiance.
Not nostalgia.
Not spectacle.
Just readiness.
When Steven Chia stepped into the APP Pro Doubles event in Kuala Lumpur as the oldest competitor in the draw, he did not arrive to make a statement about age. He arrived to compete. To test himself. To belong.
And perhaps more importantly — to continue becoming.
Beginning at Sixty-Six
Most athletes spend decades trying to extend their competitive prime. Steven’s journey into pickleball began at sixty-six.
The sport did not grow up with him. It found him later in life — at a stage when many are reducing physical ambition rather than expanding it. Yet what began as a new pursuit quickly evolved into something deeper: structure, discipline, community, and a renewed sense of challenge.
By sixty-nine, he was no longer just playing locally. He was preparing for international competition.
When asked what went through his mind upon being invited to compete at the APP in Kuala Lumpur, his response was measured:
“As long as I stay healthy, fit and committed, anything can happen.”
There is no bravado in that statement. Only clarity.
The Evolution of Competition
Steven is honest about who he used to be as a competitor.
In his younger years, winning mattered above all else. The scoreboard was the primary language. The pursuit was intense, sometimes singular.
Age has not dulled his desire to compete. It has refined it.
Today, he speaks first about connection. About making friends across generations. About listening to younger players and absorbing their ideas without ego. He is open to suggestion, open to adaptation, open to being a student even as others view him as a veteran.
The transformation is subtle but profound: competition has shifted from conquest to contribution.
Winning is still meaningful — but it is no longer the only measure of success.
Why Not Slow Down?
It would be easy to assume that professional competition at sixty-nine is unnecessary. Steven sees it differently.
For him, stepping into a pro environment keeps him aligned with the evolution of the sport. It forces discipline. It demands preparation. It sharpens focus. Competing at a higher level is not reckless ambition; it is a method of staying current.
Training is intentional now. Strengthening muscles is not optional but essential. Nutrition is calculated. Recovery is ritualised.
He has no memory of a moment when he considered stepping back. If anything, his appetite has grown. His goal is ambitious — to compete overseas at least once a month — stretching his own perceived limits while his body permits.
Hope, for Steven, is not abstract. It is built in repetitions, drills, and flights booked.
The Intelligence of Doubles
In doubles, Steven relies on what he calls “S & S” — Synergy and Strategy.
He understands that at this stage of life, raw explosiveness may not define his game. Experience must compensate. Precision must outthink pace. Positioning must outmanoeuvre power.
He prefers consistency in partnership, committing to train and drill with the same partner over extended periods. Familiarity breeds instinct. Instinct builds trust.
On court, his philosophy is clear: slow the tempo, open angles patiently, break rhythm, control the kitchen. Where younger players may accelerate, Steven disrupts. Where others rush, he waits.
This is not retreat. It is orchestration.
Ritual as Longevity
Longevity does not come from willpower alone. It is built from ritual.
Steven begins every session with deliberate stretching. At least fifteen minutes of controlled dinking warm both hands and awareness. Cooling down is non-negotiable. A lukewarm shower resets the body. A short nap restores equilibrium. Nutrition and supplementation are calibrated for sustainability.
“Listening to my body,” he explains, means understanding what to eat, when to rest, and how to maintain strength with intention.
Mentally, age has gifted him composure. Physically, it has demanded responsibility.
He does not fight time. He collaborates with it.
Kuala Lumpur: Assurance and Hope
Walking onto the APP court in Kuala Lumpur carried weight. Not because it was foreign soil, but because it was a threshold.
He felt assurance — that he could still compete internationally if he committed fully. He felt hope — that pickleball remains uniquely inclusive, allowing generations and genders to share the same competitive space.
When the match begins, his focus narrows toward performance. He wants spectators to see capability rather than chronology. If victory follows, it is welcomed. But even without it, there is satisfaction in demonstrating possibility.
Impact, not image, matters.
Setbacks Without Regret
Steven does not romanticize competition. He acknowledges losses, moments where he could have done better, tactical misjudgments, over-driven shots.
But he does not grieve them.
He resets. Moves forward. Signs up for the next tournament.
The forward motion is the point.
The Three Cs
When asked what he hopes younger players take from watching him compete, he does not mention rankings or titles. He offers the Three Cs.
Character — Compete fairly. Respect opponents and officials. Win with humility. Lose with dignity.
Consistency — Show up on time. Warm up properly. Train seriously. Stay calm under pressure.
Continuity — Keep learning. Adapt without complaint. Ask questions freely. Share knowledge openly.
It is a framework not only for sport, but for life.
Approaching Seventy
As Steven approaches seventy in 2027, he sees no immediate endpoint. He plans to continue competing in senior and 50+ categories, locally and internationally, as long as health allows.
He cannot identify anything pickleball has taken from him. Instead, he credits it with purpose — a reason to train, to travel, to engage, to stay mentally alert and physically mobile.
The sport crossed his path at sixty-six. It did not shorten his life. It expanded it.
If there is one quiet aspiration beyond medals and matches, it is this: that his children and grandchildren discover pickleball earlier than he did.
Because opportunity delayed is still opportunity seized — but opportunity discovered sooner can shape entire lifetimes.
The Long Game
Steven Chia does not stand as a symbol of defying age. He stands as evidence of what sustained commitment can create.
In a sporting culture that often worships youth, he reminds us that relevance is earned through preparation, not birth year. That growth does not expire. That inclusivity, when genuine, elevates everyone.
He is not playing against time.
He is playing with it.
And for now, the game continues.
Continue Your Journey
Steven Chia’s story is a reminder that growth does not expire — it compounds with intention.
Whether you are 19 or 69, improvement begins with structure, awareness, and consistency.
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Compete. Learn. Evolve.
Professional stages are not reserved for a specific age — they are earned through commitment.
Stay disciplined. Stay curious. Keep showing up.