Last night I met my softball at a small meet and greet at The Fountainhead, which is ironic considering we play for the Pumpjack.

Everyone seems really nice. We don’t have any rookies on the team this year and the youngest person on the team is 30 years old. There are four women and two American ex-pats on the team. I’m already sensing one team romance budding, if not a one-night stand.

Most of the conversation circled around gossip of seasons past and nightmare coaches although the subject of who our Miss WESA contestant is going to be did come up. No takers so far.

The big surprise of the evening was learning that my “buddy” isn’t actually on our team. I could have swore they called his name at the Draft party but according to our coach, my Buddy didn’t list me as his “buddy” when he registered. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t text him to see if he was going to the meet and greet; it would have caused all sorts of anxiety on his part.

I’m torn between feeling relieved and guilty. I’m relieved that I won’t feel pressured to make sure my Buddy is having a good time, but I feel guilty about the screw up with the teams since he’s been so anxious about play ball. I have no idea what team Buddy is playing on and I’m afraid to text him to find out what is going on. I have a sneaking suspicion this will totally kill his plans of playing if they aren’t dashed already.

Our coach is planning a practice for next Monday, which I can’t make because I’ll be out of town with my boyfriend. One of my teammates that knows my boyfriend asked if he would be bringing pompoms to our games to cheer us on. I told him we already bought a pink flamingo to stick in the lawn.

“But we play for Pumpjack,” he said.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

The season doesn’t start until April. In the meantime I’m going to have to coordinate my curling schedule with our practices. I wish I could ditch curling for softball, but I should see the curling season out. I always get this way this time of year; the first sign of spring, the last thing I want to do is think about is winter sports.

My boyfriend and I have already planned to bring our gloves with us to the cottage. I’m hoping to get my arm warmed up before my first practice. I’m also hoping my boyfriend doesn’t have second thoughts about dating me once he sees what a horrible softball player I am.