I can’t seem to put my finger on exactly why, but I’ve had a craving for s’mores for the past couple of days. Hmmm.

Well, never mind that – it’s time to tell you about the L.A. Sparks annual Camp Day, in which they schedule a noontime game against some poor, unsuspecting opponent and then offer cut-rate tickets to every summer camp in SoCal. Works like a charm. This year over 14,000 kids, armed with vocal cords of steel, descended upon the Staples Center, where a Sports Fan on a mission to experience the WNBA had unwittingly wandered into the aural blast zone.

Although I hail from Connecticut, the current epicenter of women’s college basketball, I’d be lying if I said that I’ve really paid much attention to women’s hoops. On television the game always struck me as plodding, and played way too far below the rim for my tastes. But mostly it’s the lack of serious competition that’s kept me away.

See, while NCAA women’s basketball has exploded in terms of participation, it still hasn’t reached the point at which there are dozens of teams playing at an elite level. So if you want to see the best women’s basketball in the land – played by teams like UConn, Tennessee and Stanford – on most nights you’re probably going to witness a blowout. That’s why I only tune in when the women’s NCAA tournament has reached the Sweet Sixteen stage. And even then the competition is often disappointingly lopsided.

In preparing to see the game played at the professional level though, it struck me that the skill levels of each team must be more or less equivalent – and so I looked forward to a competitive, talent-on-talent contest for my inaugural WNBA game. And as has rarely been the case during this journey, I was exactly right. Except for the screaming kids part.

For sure the WNBA game is competitive. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed that even the player introductions were hotly contested. The pace of play here compares more than favorably to an NBA game, especially in the transition game. The women push it up and down the court with abandon, almost completely eschewing the familiar walk-it-up “tempo” of the men’s pro game.

The other thing that jumps out at you is that the WNBA plays a much more physical game than you see in women’s college hoops. It’s not quite a night out with Snooki at the Jersey Shore, but let’s just say that the ladies come fully equipped with elbows – and they know how to use them. And by turning pro, the women have earned the right to an additional foul in each game. Despite playing the same 40-minute game (in four 10-minute quarters vs. two 20-minute halves) WNBA players are disqualified after six fouls instead of five as in the collegiate ranks. Based on the fact that three players fouled out of this game, those extra fouls clearly don’t go to waste.

As the game progressed, I came around to the conclusion that the previously mentioned lack of an above-the-rim game actually works in favor of the WNBA. While the entire culture of the NBA is seemingly built around the dunk, for obvious reasons the women don’t give it a thought. Instead they do quaint things like run plays and look to pass the ball to the open shooter. And they hustle constantly. For all the time spent on the floor diving for loose balls or taking offensive fouls, the WNBA should be sponsored by the National Strawberry Growers Association.

And what’s this? A full-court press defense? In the middle of the game? The WNBA clearly does not have an effective Player’s Union to address these egregious management demands.

While the rules are basically the same, there are nuances to the women’s game that makes it play quite differently than the men’s. For example, the women still “jump it up” on held ball calls, instead of the democratic but boring alternating possession practice of the men. It was comforting to see however, that you could always rely on at least one constant throughout all of pro basketball: the WNBA refs don’t call traveling either.

I had to tip my cap to the visiting Tulsa Shock. Coming into the game with a record of 4-16, they’re all but out of the playoffs already, and playing an early game on the road in front of a loud but largely disinterested crowd. They could have mailed it in. But despite having been down by ten points or more for most of the second half, Tulsa made a spirited comeback.

With 2:36 left in the game, having cut the Sparks lead to four points, the Shock unnerved them into a shot clock violation. Coming out of a subsequent L.A. time-out, Tulsa knocked down two foul shots to make the score 72-70. A clamp-down defense led to a game-tying basket, after which the Shock slapped on a full-court press, stole the ball and scored again to take the lead. It was just that quick.

It brought to mind the famed “40 Minutes of Hell” style of play that made the University of Arkansas NCAA champions in 1994 and national runners-up the next year. Which isn’t quite the journalistic reach that it appears to be when you take into account that both that Arkansas team and the current Tulsa Shock share the same coach – the legendary Nolan Richardson.

The reeling Sparks were desperately in need of a boost from the home crowd. Uh-oh. Houston, we have a problem.

Up until this point in the game, the most popular people in the building were, in inverse order: (3) Sparky, the fuzzy dog mascot; (2) the few roving concession vendors that were brave enough to show up for work that day; and (1) the cameramen.

Apparently there is no greater joy to a child than that which comes from being captured on camera and displayed on an arena video board. The euphoria that enveloped these kids when this occurred made Christmas morning seem like Bath Time in comparison. So the crowd was a tad bit unfocused with regard to the actual, ummm…game.

But despite this distraction – and despite the fact that ants had fully invaded the pants of the vast majority of the crowd sometime around mid-third quarter – the kids rose to the occasion.

With the score tied at 76 and the Shock setting up for a final buzzer-beating shot to win, the crowd pulled it together (albeit with the help of a video board prompt) for an eardrum-piercing chant of “De-Fense”.  And when the Tulsa shot narrowly missed, I was surprised to hear a definitive unsolicited roar from the crowd. How do you like that? All visual evidence to the contrary, a good chunk of them actually knew that the outcome of the game rode on the result of that shot.

The enhanced attention span carried over into the overtime. When the Sparks struck first on a three-pointer, another unprompted outburst occurred. And another, even larger one when the second of two free throws by Ticha Penicheiro gave L.A. an 85-81 lead with just 13.8 seconds left.

After a few traded free throws finished out the game with a Sparks 86-83 win, L.A. forward Tina Thompson took the microphone and thanked the crowd for coming out: “This is the loudest game of the year, and every year and we appreciate you.”

At that point, we were all Happy Campers, both figuratively and literally.