“What hospital did they go to!” Andy scrunches the brim of his hat in frustration as he pulls it down over his forehead.  He's itching to spike a big one across the net right through the middle of those corporate sports warriors. After all, volleyball is just like soccer, only higher.

“I didn’t see their car. They haven’t come back yet,” confirms Oscar as he returns from a quick tour of the parking lot. The sun warmed grass tickles his toes in his sandals.  He should have volunteered to take Pam. They have newspapers and televisions at the hospital  - and air conditioning. 

“Maybe they went home?“ says Kevin. He grins, “maybe they’re doin’ it.”

“A little afternoon delight,” Creed nods and stretches his calves, ready to come in as Jim’s alternate.

“People, this is a serious game!” Dwight frowns at the remaining players. The black shirted team on the other side of the net paces restlessly. He makes a quick decision. “Creed, you’re in! Temp, the net!” He gestures at Ryan.

“My ankle hurts --,” Ryan responds, lowering his phone. He shoots Dwight a hard blue-eyed stare.

“Oh, for ---,” Dwight groans. He can’t waste his breath on someone who has two-tone hair. “Phyllis –in!”

“Dwight, my ankle hurts.” Phyllis rubs her knee and takes a long slurp of picnic punch.

Angela raises her hand slowly.

“Erin, where is Kelly?!”  Dwight asks the tall brunette rubbing the toe of her gym shoe into the ground.  

“Dunno,” she shrugs. 

“Dwight, Angela could substitute,” Meredith jerks her head at the sidelines.

Dwight sighs.  Rolph thoughtfully steps in front of the big straw hat, obscuring the wearer.

“Stanley --- you’re in!” 

“No.”

“Stanley!  C’mon, you’re in!” 

“Uh uh.”

Dwight adjusts his authentic Down Under Oilskin Bush hat firmly.  His cell phones rings.  Finally.

“Jim?”