Women’s Hot Stove comin’ atchya live!

Okay, not live. Tape delayed.

If you’re not familiar with what’s on your screen, it would probably be best to start here. And then, venture over here.

Trust me, the concept isn’t difficult. I’m just a guy who used to play who understands the delicate intricacies hidden deep within the dynamic that is a beach volleyball partnership. Oh, and I’m not afraid to burn photos of those partners who couldn’t muster up the requisite chemistry to keep their volley relationship alive. Nor am I afraid to hide in the bushes outside a player’s front door with a boom mic to get the juice on where each beleaguered athlete will end up in his or her subsequent ‘volleyship.’ I just created a word.

If your internet connection is stronger than my parents’ dial-up, then you were probably able to view this latest edition of the Hot Stove without unnecessary interruption and most likely won’t need to read the rest. For the rest of you (Dad), I’ll provide a little post-“game” commentary to keep you from leaving your chair as it buffers. And I’ll begin with an apology.

Sorry to all of you who came here expecting a surplus of door-to-door invasive reports. For some reason, the women are just not as open as the men when it comes down to spilling the beans. After my first insidious attempt…

…I realized it wasn’t going to be as easy as I had hoped to get the goods. Italy? Thanks Britt. Thanks a lot. You had me searching every beach volleyball database on the globe looking for your new “partner” and how she was surreptitiously connected to the United States. And just when I thought I found her—in Trieste, after visiting the Hall of Records (beautiful spot, by the way—who knew the border of Slovenia was that gorgeous?)—I received a text from an anonymous source clarifying a piece of vital information that could have saved me more than 28 hours of flight time: “Kropp/Hochevar 2010!”

No hard feelings, Brittany Hochevar. All I ever wanted was a name. Plus, I needed the miles. And vacation. Come to think of it, I should have visited Montenegro while I was in the area. I’ve heard it’s more beautiful than Santa Ana.

Needless to say, our limited production budget couldn’t afford another wild goose chase to Italy, so operations scaled back to merely my favorite part of the exercise, burning photos at the Stove. And of course, mass texting my entire database with the hope that someone, anyone, might give me the dirt on the two players left out in the Southern California rain. That sentence used to end with sun, until this week; SoCal is the new Seattle.

Of course, Hochevar’s ex-partner, Jen Fopma, quickly became the big question mark. It only required one message from her coach and significant other, Jeff Conover, to confirm: “Yeah, Whit [Pavlik] for 2010.”

Instead of going with the veteran Barbra Fontana, who lives in Los Angeles, Fopma elected to minimize driving time and partner up with 2008 AVP Rookie of the Year Whitney Pavlik, who resides nearby in Orange County.

As far as Fontana is concerned, she’s the only illustrious name still up for grabs. I befriended her on Facebook to find out her plans and yet, nothing. I don’t even know if she’s still preparing to play 2010? After all, Barb is no spring chicken; if the woman wants to retire peacefully, she’s certainly earned that right.

If you’re still shaking your head in disbelief at the newly reunited partnership of Elaine Youngs and Rachel Wacholder, or were wondering what exactly went down between the two in Paris and Klagenfurt, or were just marveling at how cool Carly Keese made the reverse photo burn look on camera, you’re not alone. I’m doing the same.

I can answer you this: the last time Elaine Youngs and Rachel Wacholder shared court space and sided out together in France and Austria, phrases like “You’re a no-talent hack!” and “You’ve got no [expletive] balls!” were heard more than once by fans in the stands. Fortunately, no one listening (besides other American players) fully understood their intonation.

Keep in mind, I’m not playing the blame game. I’m just saying things get heated on the court and players say things to their partners they habitually regret down the road. Volleyships (I used it again) are often times more stressful and complicated than personal relationships. Why? Because finances and livelihoods underlie every swing. Elaine and Rachel are two of my favorite players on the Tour. They’re both adults. There is no reason not to believe they can’t return to the form they shared as the second-ranked team on the AVP in 2005. And for the record, I hope they do.

Note: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle equals Misty May-Treanor. She’s been the Turtle since Casey Jennings first coined the nickname in 2004, her defensive skills are ninja-like, she’s so good she’s obviously a mutant, and she still has the exuberant energy of a teenager. If it’s not evident, I don’t know what is.