There was no formality to the entire affair. Players warmed up and started their matches at their leisure. The even numbered seeds went first and everybody plays at the same time-- diminishing the attention placed on any one match.

Nobody officiates these matches. Just as if you and your buddy went to the Q-Rac to hit the ball around a little, you make your own rulings. A member of each team watches, keeps score, and acts as an appeal referee, but I didn't see many disputes.

The squash players simply go out and play. Once the matches start, there is little Harvard Coach Satinder Bajwa can do. Instead, he wanders about, encouraging his team, and schmoozes a few parents along the way.

It very much is an insular sport. Granted, part of that there is a pretty high barrier to entry in the U.S. with most squash courts being in private clubs. But once you're inside, it's a real community. During the most intense of matches, opponents will still tip their racquets for nice shots.

The informality meant that I could wander along from match to match too, deciding which of the fast-paced contests caught my eye. For someone who has never seen a squash match before, I was impressed with the speed of the matches, and I finally saw the actual skill level of the famed Harvard Crimson.

I knew that my squash-joking days were over when I sat down in grandstand, after everyone else had competed, to watch Harvard co-captain Tim Wyant battle Amherst captain David McNeely. McNeely is the highest- ranked American collegiate player, and Wyant came ever so close to capturing the NISRA championship last year.

I have no technical knowledge of squash to break down the match. All I can offer is my amazement to see how many balls each competitor retrieved and the battle it was for each point. Wyant kept getting stronger as the match proceeded and capped off a perfect evening for Harvard.