Love on the Sidelines: A Small Town Sports Romcom

1. Ava

Eight days.

Some people countdown to important things like weddings and having babies. Me? My countdown is to lacrosse season.

It’s not that I don’t want those things… eventually. Finding someone who’ll put up with and want to procreate with me is the challenge. Just ask my one and only ex-boyfriend. Actually, don’t bother.

Being an athlete and also a woman tends to give men an ego trip.

It”s been a while since I was on a travel lacrosse team that wasn”t connected to my college career, but I”m just as nervous as I would”ve been then, except I’m the coach this time. The only control I have is through shouting out advice instead of driving the ball to the net.

I”m hoping to give these girls the chance to play at a more competitive level than what they usually do here in northern Utah. But that means getting past all the good and bad from my own career.

Thinking of myself at the age of my players, thirteen and fourteen, it makes me realize how critical lacrosse was for building character when my life had been turned upside down in a few short months.

I’ve just visited my grandmother at the rehab center she’s at after breaking a hip two weeks ago. Then I head over to the pickleball court in our small town.

Why am I here when I know nothing about this sport? Because I can’t compete at a competitive level for lacrosse anymore, thanks to my bum knee. And I might’ve heard a girl on TikTok mention how she ditched dating apps (not that I’ve ever had those) and went to the pickleball court to find a date.

I mentioned I wanted to settle down and have kids one day, right? Well, sometimes it’s better to start the search early. Trial and error is the mantra of my life.

In a town as small as Oakhaven, the chance of finding a guy in my age bracket would be a miracle, let alone if he’s single and attractive.

How did I get here?

In college, I was confident that I would have a boyfriend and that we’d be able to go the distance. That turned out to be a joke. My ex-boyfriend ditched me for a women’s softball player and I left college single.

That wasn’t all bad.

I played at the University of Colorado and then played for a professional team for two summers before tearing my ACL for the last time. I probably could”ve pushed the doctors to let me play longer, but I knew it was time to be done.

I park next to the pickleball court and survey the landscape. It seems like this game is definitely a favorite among the older generations.

I pull out the paddle I bought when I drove to the next city over the weekend. Yesterday, I spent a couple of hours learning the rules and making sure I have a good grasp of the game. Thank you to the people who think, “I should make a video of that,” and then post it online. It’s super helpful to the prideful people of the world, like me, who struggle to ask for help.

For a small town, I’m still surprised that we have this many courts. Sure, they can double as tennis courts, but there are already several people passing what I originally thought was just a wiffle ball back and forth.

I scan the area, feeling ridiculous that I’m even trying to find a date. To be honest, I had planned to be at the wedding for one of my roommates tomorrow. Going to a wedding by myself isn’t the worst thing, but I’m kind of glad Brooke called it off. The guy she was dating didn’t fit her well.

She’s the gal who will find someone even better soon, so I might as well search for my plus one now.

Maybe it’s getting older that makes me feel the pressure to find a significant other, or just living in this town where most of the women my age are already married and have a kid or two. I’m only twenty-six, so fairly young by my own standards.

I stand on the sidelines of the court and wonder what to do. I didn’t come with a partner and it looks like everyone else is paired up. Do I just wait and hope one of them will let me play? This was definitely not addressed in the videos I watched.

It’s like every horror dream I’ve ever had, except for there’s no heckling here.

“Aren’t you Shirley’s granddaughter?” a woman asks, walking over to pick up a towel on a bench.

“Uh, yeah.” I’m trying to place the woman, but I can’t really figure out who she is. Of course, everyone knows my Gran, which makes for a lot of awkward conversations for me. “This is my first time trying pickleball.”

“I’m Betty Jean Carpenter. Your grandma was my preschool teacher all those years ago. She always knew how to cheer me up when I was having a hard time.”

My grandmother had been a preschool teacher for forty years before she retired ten years ago. Her health didn’t do well with all the little bugs and viruses the kids brought to class, and she sobbed the day her last classes graduated.

“Come play with us,” Betty Jean says. “Fran and I will teach you all the rules.”

I smile and follow her to the third court over, where there’s a woman on the other side. “Can you play with an odd number?”

Fran waves her paddler. “I’ve got to go to an appointment. Take my spot,” she says to me. She leans in close but doesn’t lower her voice when she says, “Watch out though. Betty Jean is good at cheating.”

“I am not!” Betty Jean says, laughing. “You just need to get your eyes checked.”

I might not have found a date, but what I did find was laughter and a zest for life. It makes me miss my roommates.

We were all so close during our time as the Sunny Girls. I probably should’ve gone to see Brooke and the others anyway with my plane ticket. Instead, I figured I’d save it for the next time one of them gets married. I doubt it will be long before that happens. I definitely lucked out in the college roommate department.

Over the next thirty minutes, I learn a lot about this sport. Betty Jean has to be in her late fifties, and while I wouldn’t have pegged her for a fierce competitor, she’s beating me with ease.

Several people have come and left from the courts, but I’ve barely noticed since I’m so focused on trying to hit the ball soft enough that it actually lands in the court.

“All right, darlin’,” Betty Jean says. “It’s time I head home and shower before I have to pick up my grandkids. We come to play on Friday mornings, if you’re itching for a rematch.” The wicked grin she gives me hurts my pride but also makes me laugh at the same time.

“I’ll have to put that on my calendar,” I say, taking a swig from the water bottle I brought. This is probably the most exercise I’ve gotten since being cleared from my last surgery. I’m not feeling stiff right now, but I wonder if that’s because I’m not playing on grass or turf. Then again, soreness usually hits hard two or three days after a good workout.

Another woman standing close to the bench grabs a bandana and wipes at her forehead, wheezing. “It’s a hot one today.”

I nod and say, “It definitely is.”

She smiles at me and says, “Ava? Ava Hooper?”

Taking another look at the woman, I finally recognize her. “Hi Mrs. Danielson. I didn’t realize you’re back in town.”

“I moved back with my granddaughter a couple of days ago. How have you been?” She reaches over and pulls me into a bear hug. I cringe, hoping I don’t smell like a wet dog after sweating for the last sixty minutes.

“I’m doing well. Just working and taking care of Gran.”

She grins and says, “I need to stop by and see her. It’s been too long.” Her eyes get a faraway look to them and I’m sure she’s reliving some memory involving Gran. She smiles at me and says, “Do you want to play a game with us?”

I debate whether I want to head home or play. I have Fridays off because I spend any Saturday I’m in town and weeknights as the manager of the rec games on all the fields.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve been this challenged in anything and I nod. “I’d love to, Mrs. Danielson.”

“You can call me Tina. Charlie is on the other side. It looks like he’s recruited someone to play as well. It’s always a bit more fun with four on the court.”

I freeze, glancing at the tall figure on the other side of the net.

Charlie Danielson. My brother’s former best friend and the one who always teased me endlessly and then got my brother to ditch me every time they hung out.

Do I try to come up with some excuse to leave the court? It’s too late, because I’m already here and Charlie has most definitely seen me.

“Where is it you’ve been?” I ask, trying to remember what Gran told me once I got back from college and playing away for two years. She’s the best source of gossip in this town.

Tina says, “Michigan. I was up there with my daughter while she was going through cancer. She passed about six months ago and Emily, my granddaughter, and I just moved here on Monday. I used to play pickleball up there daily, so I finally wrangled Charlie out here to play. He needs it. The guy is behind a desk all the time and can use the sunshine.”

Charlie is about twenty yards away from me, talking to a man who looks about his mother’s age. What he lacks in a tan, he definitely makes up for in physique. Tina makes it sound like he doesn’t get outside, but he must be some kind of gym rat to look that good.

He’s always looked that good, even during the gangly years when his ears were too big for his head. If he hadn’t been such a jerk all those years ago, I might’ve looked at him differently.

“Yeah, I don’t know if he needs all that fresh air,” I say, trying to avert my gaze. No need to get all excited about someone who used to eat bugs for fun.

We walk to the net and Tina says, “Charlie, you remember Ava, right?”

Recognition hits in his eyes and he grins. “Yes, I definitely do. How’s Bobby?”

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to talk to my older brother since he works on a ship at sea and the cell service is spotty.

I reach out my hand to shake and he takes mine, making every nerve in my hand tingle. He shakes my hand, giving me a sly grin. Oh great, he hasn’t changed one bit.

“He’s good. Probably in the Mediterranean Sea?,” I say.

“Lucky guy. He always knew where to find the fun.”

I purse my lips, wondering if Charlie remembered what Bobby’s career entailed. Deep-sea welding isn’t something I’d call fun. He’s basically giving the water a chance to take his life every time he dives in.

Tina asks about the man standing next to Charlie. “This is Paul,” Charlie says. “He’s been playing for over a year now.”

“Women versus men?” Tina asks.

“You might not be happy that today is my first day,” I whisper to her.

Tina chuckles and says, “It’s all in good fun. Unless we place bets. Then things get interesting.”

What can be that interesting about pickleball? Is there a hazing ritual I didn’t stumble upon in my research?

Charlie nods. “Perfect. Rock, paper, scissors for first serve?”

I frown, turning to look at his mother. Maybe I was expecting chivalry, but–

“North side goes first,” Tina says with a smile, taking the ball to the back line of the court. Charlie grins at me and takes a few steps into the box on his side. “0-0-1.”

From all I’ve learned today, that means the score and what number of serve we’re on.

She hits it to Paul, since the ball has to go into the box opposite of where the server stands. He volleys it over to me and I’m able to get it over the net, but only barely in. Paul misses the ball and Charlie has to chase it.

“Nice,” Tina says, giving me a high-five. I smile and switch to the next box, getting ready for the serve.

After nearly thirty minutes, the set is close.

Charlie raises his eyebrows and says, “You’ve never played before?” He walks over to pick up the ball by the fence.

I shake my head and try to not let his approving look affect me. From everything I remember, this guy was a ladies’ man, one who has no problem swaying women to hang out with him. I’ve never been good at being a second or a seventh choice, so I shut down those feelings right now.

It’s my turn to serve, and I send it into Charlie’s square. It bounces once, and he sends it to his mom, who volleys it back. Paul hits it over to me and I take a big swing, sending the ball flying… right into Charlie’s face.

At first, I feel victorious.

Sure, the guy was impressed that I’ve only been playing for the last ninety minutes, but we’d battled in other sports growing up. He’s the reigning P-I-G champion with me as a close second. Bobby was never that competitive, mostly loving the entertainment our games gave him.

But then I see blood.

My stomach tightens and I try to breathe out slowly, wishing I could redo the last minute.

“Are you all right?” I ask, walking up to the net.

His mom stands right next to me, but since he hasn’t moved, she jogs around the net to inspect the injury.

Blood. Why is there blood? My stomach twists at the sight.

He pulls his hand away from his eye and I see a small stream of red trickling down the side of his face. We use a wiffle ball for this sport. How in the world did it penetrate his skin?

He’s got that eye closed and I finally break out of my trance to grab the bandana his mother used earlier, so I don’t think she’ll mind.

I brave the sight and join the small huddle. “Here,” I say, handing Tina the cloth.

She glances over and gives me a tight smile before taking the light pink bandana and pressing it up against the wound. When she pulls it back, there’s a cut at the end of his eyebrow. It fills quickly with blood, making my stomach twist at the sight.

“I think we’ll need to see a doctor for this one, Charlie,” his mom says softly.

His shoulders slump and ?he looks way more vulnerable than I’ve seen him since we started playing.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I say, hoping the wound won’t leave a scar. I mean, the guy is classically attractive. It wouldn’t be great to have that on my conscience to screw up his future life because of a hit to the eyebrow.

“He’ll be fine,” Tina says, giving me more of a regular smile at this point. “He’s not a huge fan of needles, but we’ll see how that works out now.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like the sight of blood,” I blurt out. Charlie turns to give me a glare and then walks off the court with the bandana pressed against his wound.

He stops next to a nicer car, and my concern suddenly evaporates. If anything, Charlie probably has the money to get some kind of plastic surgery if needed. I try to remember if Gran told me what he does for work, but nothing comes to mind.

“Do you want to keep playing?” Paul asks from a few feet away.

I give him a quick smile and say, “I’ve already injured one man today. I would hate to do that to you.”

I turn on my heel and grab my water bottle from the bench before hurrying to my car. I’m going to need some serious regrouping time to come back after this. Maybe I’ll get lucky and not see Charlie and Tina for a few months.

Chances of me coming back to play pickleball soon are slim. Instead of meeting someone dateable at the courts, I found Charlie, of all people. That about sums up my life right now.