If, for some reason, you were looking for me this past weekend, you would have found me at Gus Macker. I spent Friday night, and most of the day Saturday and Sunday, doing my part to help out with the 3-on-3 tournament which brought more than 420 teams, nearly 1,700 players and thousands and thousands of fans to Chenango County.
Now, let me say that I’ve never been much of a basketball fan, despite the best efforts of my family. My father, at 6’4”, was always a commanding presence on the court and my sister was a star on her championship high school team at Oxford. Even both of my brothers played at one time or another. My mother has a thing for college basketball, and basically has to be surgically removed from the big screen during March Madness.
But not me. Sure, I put in the required time in gym class, and even played in junior high, but I never really saw the appeal. I was more into volleyball.
So, you can probably imagine my family’s surprise when I told them I’d be volunteering during Macker. In fact, my dad actually said he’d be happy to take my place. Something about the good of the children ...
You can probably also guess my reaction when Mark Abbott, who I approached about donating my time, suggested I be a Gus Buster. Given my minuscule knowledge of the sport, I thought it would be better to leave that role to those who at least know the rules. Otherwise, there might be angry mobs of parents chasing me through the streets before the end.
Thankfully, I was able to convince Mark of my wisdom and we compromised: I’d work registration both days and then try my hand at being a scorekeeper.
I was pretty secure in my ability to handle the former. The latter, I still had my concerns about. Especially during the first 20 minutes of the volunteer meeting which took place at the Y on the Thursday before Macker was due to start. As SuperBusters Steve Benenati and Bob Tenney debated the finer points of the tournament’s rules, I was completely lost.
But then Ted Guinn took all of us scorekeepers aside to explain our role. After a quick course in filling out the score sheet and keeping time, I felt better. And after the more experienced volunteers shared some of their tips with the newbies, I was a bit more confident.
On Friday, I reported to the Norwich Firehouse for registration. We were given our marching orders by Mike, who was one of the Macker staff in town for the tournament. Our job was fairly simple: check each player’s identification (birth certificate, driver’s license, etc.), collect their waivers, verify their height was within 2” of what they’d reported on their registration, give them the wristband which they’d wear for the duration of the weekend and send them on their merry way.
Sounds easy, I know, and it was for the most part. But people invariably forget their id., and team captain’s make mistakes when filling out the online registration. One of the most notable was a captain who misstated the height of one of his players. The guy, who was easily 6’5”, was down as 5’10.” Thankfully, Mike was there to straighten things out as needed.
Saturday was more of the same, although fewer volunteers were around. I helped with registration from 7 a.m., until just after 11 a.m. when they closed up shop in the Fire House and moved check-in to the bracket tent.
I didn’t have to report to my afternoon scorekeeping assignment on Court P until noon, but I was still a bit nervous. So after a quick stop at the hospitality tent to grab a hot dog, I made my way down to my court with the intention of observing the morning scorekeeper in action.
That didn’t work out quite as I’d planned, however. It was probably 11:30 when I got there, and a game had just finished. The next wasn’t until 12:30, so I thought I had some time to kill. I hung out for awhile, chatting with Phil Curley and John Martinson, the two GusBusters assigned to the court.
Because the forecast was calling for rain, John and Phil decided it would be better to forego the break and move up the afternoon games. They had me sign in the players, and before I even had time to let my nerves get the best of me, the game was getting started. Phil and John were awesome, and I’d like to think I caught on pretty quick. I couldn’t have asked for a better court to start my scorekeeping career.
Within no time, I was confidently calling out the score and time, while watching all the action on the court. The young athletes on the court were teenage boys around age 16, I’d guess. I couldn’t believe how talented they were. Before long, I was glued to the game, and loving every minute of it.
I had so much fun, in fact, that when Ted came around to see how I was doing, I volunteered to come back for more on Sunday. He promised me that if I showed up at around noon, he’d find something for me to do.
John and Phil’s decision to move up the games proved to be a wise one. We were finished on our court before the rain came, delaying games well into the evening hours.
On Sunday, Ted was true to his word. The afternoon scorekeeper on Court F hadn’t been able to make it for her shift, so I got to fill in. The morning person had been on her feet for hours, and was eager to be replaced so I took over the clipboard and stop watch a few minutes into a game already in progress. GusBusters Kristen and Bill, who were assigned to the court, took the change in stride.
This time, the players were young girls, but let me tell you, the games were no less intense. They would have run rings around me. It was pretty exciting watching them, and I think I might have picked up a few pointers that will come in handy the next time I play 1-on-1 with my brother Dennis.
We were a little behind on our court, because of the break everyone took for the Slam Dunk contest, so the kids played one game after another. I got so caught up in it, that I screwed up, double clicking my stopwatch at the start of a game. By the time I realized the clock wasn’t running, it was 4 minutes in. Which I knew because, as one of the veteran scorekeepers had suggested on Thursday, I’d jotted down the time the game had started, so there really wasn’t cause for alarm. I felt ridiculously proud of myself for being so thorough.
The weather started off gorgeous, bright and sunny with a nice breeze. But by mid-afternoon it was getting a bit hot on the asphalt. The players were dousing themselves with water on the sidelines and I was frantically re-applying sunscreen (SPF 30) after every couple of games.
When the final game was played, and the trophy given out, volunteers swooped in (as Julie Wallen told me they would) to pull up the tape and lower the basket. It left me feeling a bit sad, because it really had been a lot of fun. So much so, in fact, that I’m wondering if it is too early to sign up to volunteer to do it all over again next year.