Long, deep, cool, emancipated breaths — that's what I've been breathing these past few days. This must be what men feel after being paroled from a lengthy prison sentence. After 15 years of attending college off and on, the final paper of the final class has been written. I've done the cap and gown thing. I've bid farewell to school chums and begun to feel the warmth of freedom's sun on my face. It's heady stuff.

And just in time, too! The annual summer camp season is getting underway. Whether attending as a camper, or working to pick up a little pocket change, chances are you've hit the hardwood recently.

I worked one night in each setting last week. Each night's experience contributed something to the proposal I'm about to make. At the first camp my friend Bert worked eight games a day — most of them two-whistle and many of them on full-sized college floors — for three straight days. The second occurred when another crew tried to take a floor from my partner and me so they could work together. They were reluctant to leave, and we even joked about working four-whistle mechanics. Eventually we suggested that if they wanted to be together so badly, we knew of a motel close by. They left. The floor, not the building. As far as I know.

Continued...