Spectacular squash, from a less than spectacular location

Last weekend, Princeton University, unbeknownst to many of its students, hosted the Intercollegiate Squash Association championships.

Big deal?

It actually was a big deal.

Hosting college squash's version of the National Collegiate Athletic Association basketball tournament, albeit with far less teams, gave Princeton the unique privilege to witness firsthand the nation's top college squash players.

College squash is one of those few sports here at Princeton, according to the humble opinion of this lowly sports writer, where its players are nearly as good as professional ones; where action is seldom dull; and where a day spent literally holed underground in Jadwin Gym's C-Floor, even on a dreary late Sunday morning, is not wasted.

Sunday's top three finals matches were seemingly the three most entertaining matches one might find in all of men's college squash.

The first found senior David Yik, who won the national championship in 2001 as a sophomore, playing Trinity's Nickolas Kyme.

The catlike Yik came alive in the second game after a slow start, bearing a smile less the result of quirky fan cheers than the fact that Kyme seemed to be gradually losing his shorts on the court as the match unraveled. The bespectacled Kyme, sporting his safety goggles, played more like a chemist than Trinity's No. 3, and was easiy defeated by Yik.

Senior Will Evans took the court next, playing against the Englishman Michael Ferreira, a member of the English national team who might make something of himself if he grows several feet and learns how to shut-up on the court.

Squash seemed to be secondary to Ferreira's antics, most specifically his incessant pleas to the referee — his own teammate — which evoked more jeers and laughs from the crowd than actual sympathy. On one play, early in the match when it seemed that Ferreira might actually have a shot at winning, he beat his chest after what to him seemed a miscall and said to the referee, I quote, "You upset me."

It's good to let others know how you feel, Mikey! Your teammate made the correct call, though.

It seemed that the "sellout" crowd had all come to see Princeton's No. 1 Egyptian phenom, Yasser El Halaby, take on Trinity's Bernardo Samper, Colombian National Champion. Incredibly, El Halaby was ranked most recently at 68th in the world.

Get the best of the ‘Prince’ delivered straight to your inbox. Subscribe now »

For all the waiting that the crowd endured, the match did not even hit the hour mark. Yet length doesn't matter, and the wait was worth it. El-Halaby shut out his opponent, in the process displaying an athleticism and sportsmanship which Princeton squash has the pleasure to exploit for another three years.

The Bantams, as they are called, descended to Jadwin's C-Floor with the swagger of international playmates. It was apparent that each of their top nine players had multiple earrings to go along with the hundreds of championship trophies which the players undoubtedly share among themselves and only take out of the closet when they need dates.

Trinity ascended to ground level, hours later, with another national championship, the three matches held on Court 1 the only ones they lost all day.

The loss isn't what I'll remember, though.

The day had the feel of an afternoon spent at tennis's US Open, a tournament held annually amidst the dying heat of late August and early September in Flushing Meadows, N.Y. which I used to frequent as a kid. Some minor discrepancies exist.

I was closer, so close in fact that I probably could have spit (though certainly would not have done so) on the players. The sound of the hollow blackball colliding with the wall, when hit its hardest, sounded like bullets being discharged from a gun. I was close enough to hear that sound unmuffled.

The match was also free, not only not costing a cent but also free from the usual distractions. I heard not a single cellphone ring, nor a baby cry.

My only complaint is that the seating space is way too small. The "arena," if one may call it that, is beyond intimate. I felt like a packaged sardine. If I actually thought about it, I guess, the random odors and needless touching would have made me nervous and sent me sweating, but the action on the court in front of me distracted me as if I were at a topless beach.

Thinking about it, Princeton squash deserves to play in the football stadium. Yet it has found a good home in Jadwin Gymnasium for now. Maybe in a couple years, though, when the men's squash team's trophy cases are overflowing and its court's walls have dulled the athletic department might think about putting up a court outside of Frist or Nassau St. or even putting the stadium, which lies fallow for half the year, to good use during squash season.

But please, no cellular phones.