Let's all do like the Catholics do

CFL Grands is coming up this weekend, at which our archdiocese selects 6 of each to send to the annual CatNats confab, which is taking place this year in beautiful Albany, New York. As the Catholics say, Oy!

Running Grands is something of a nightmare. It’s a tiny event, with side restraints not only in LD but in PF, with each person bringing a judge, and either 2 or 3 judges in a round, depending on the size of the field (we go to 3 if the field is over 20). The computer is relatively useless for most of this, as it is for most small fields, although it does at least provide us double-checks on sides and previous judge issues and things like that. And, of course, it gives us placements and brackets. But mostly it’s me and JV and Catsmacker throwing cards and trying every conceivable combination of judges and sneaking off for empanadas and spending a really long day getting through 4 very complicated rounds (or occasionally 3 rounds, if the results are predictable). It’s a mathematical problem as much as anything else, which makes it interesting. Judges tend to judge an A flight in one room and a B flight in another, they get purloined out of one division and dumped into the other, and the ones who like to complain are out of luck because it’s virtually impossible to find us in the tab room (as if we were going to listen to their complaints in the first place).

Speaking of which, it never fails to amaze me how people complain about having to judge. “I’m in every round,” they say. Well, yeah, duh. So are the debaters. “I’m getting really exhausted.” Oh, you poor thing. I got here earlier than you and I’ll get out of here later. “I’ve got tickets for the opera/theater/cockfight and I’ve got to leave at 7:00 at the latest.” Well, we all want to go to the cockfight, but you don’t see us scampering out of here. The deal is, when you commit to judge, you have committed to judge. You get to sit in a chair and the only part of your body you have to exercise other than your mind is your note-taking hand. It’s indoors, which is especially nice in inclement weather. And you’re either getting paid or you’re supporting the child no one forced you to bring into the world. If you’re a student judge and you don’t want to judge, don’t. Get another job. I hear that the market is really great out there these days. And if you’re a parent judge, well, you’re screwed. If you didn’t want to do this, you shouldn’t have been procreating sixteen or seventeen years ago. You think all that heavy breathing comes without consequences?

On the Bronx Brooklyn front, I have added a number of Facebook chums since the posting of the last tale of great debate adventure. Obviously the Bronx Brooklyn scientists think that sidling up to me will lead to more stories about their resident sweater-vest model. Maybe. Then again, they could just all go back and listen to Nostrum. Jules and the Nostrumite may not write exactly the way I do, but I narrate that exactly the way I narrate my tales, so it’s all much of a muchness as far as listening is concerned (once one gets past the first few pre-good-mic episodes). Gee. New Nostrum fans. Just what the world needs more of.