Instead, I hurry outside to join Trish and Kendra at the side yard where a basketball goal is set up on a small concrete court. A few scantily-clad Sweet Butts are placing lounge chairs around the edges of the court while the men toss a basketball back and forth.

“They’re going to play a basketball game?” I ask, still confused as to what’s happening. “In blue jeans and boots? That’s weird and something I’ve never seen before.”

“You’ll never catch one of these men in a pair of shorts or without their boots,” Trish says. “Grab a lounge chair. We shouldn’t sit too close to the court. The guys can get rough, and I don’t want them crashing into the baby or little Josh.”

I drag a couple of lounge chairs from the stack and set one up in the shade for Trish and the baby. Kendra plops down on the other side of me with Josh hanging onto her legs for support. He starts to fall, and I instinctively reach over to grab his chubby little hand.

Weird.

I can’t remember ever touching a baby’s hand before. He smiles at me, showing a new tooth, and my heart melts.

“Better watch out,” Kendra says. “Josh is teething and he’ll eat your hand.”

As if right on cue, Josh tries to cram my finger in his mouth. Kendra laughs and pulls my hand free.

“Told you so,” she says.

I point at the basketball court.

“How do they split up the teams with thirteen guys?” I ask “Isn’t that too many players?”

Trish laughs. “They make up their own rules,” she says. “And they reserve the right to change them frequently. Tom is the referee since he’s older, slower, and has bad knees. Jesse and Flint are team captains. They each pick a team of six. Five men play and one member will sit on the sidelines and wait to be tagged in. That usually only happens when someone is injured.”

“When someone is injured?” I repeat. “Don’t you mean if?”

“We wish,” Kendra answers. “When you throw that much testosterone together with no rules, someone usually winds up with a minor injury. Luckily Trish is training to be a nurse and I’m a veterinarian, so we can usually patch them up without sending them off to the emergency room. The only hard and fast rule they follow is ‘no hands.’ No grabbing or punching allowed. Elbows, body slams, tripping, head butting, and rolling around on the ground are all okay.”

I frown, not liking the sound of this. They said the game was going to be fun. Foreplay, Kendra had called it. So far, I’m missing the appeal.

“Alright boys,” Tom yells out from the center of the court. “Time for the Prez and VP to pick your teams. Go Jesse. You’re up first, big fella.”