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.