Friday’s start was, well, a Friday. When all was said and
done, we got out of there when we always get out of there. Fitting in three
rounds, when you’re not sure who is actually around, can be interesting. I have
to admit, there weren’t too many folks who registered ghost teams. Only one in
LD, if I recall correctly. Although they were dropping like flies as the
tournament progressed. Apparently one school that will remain nameless
(Collegiate) brought in a ton of germs that knocked a whole passel of people out,
including much of the Collegiate contingent. That is the down side of
biological warfare. And here’s the thing. When, as happened in the Bronx,
someone comes into the tabroom and says that so and so is “out there” vomiting,
our basic response is, well, keep them “out there.” I retired from coaching so
that I wouldn’t have to deal with one of my own kids vomiting. We insist that
adults chaperone all entries so that you have to deal with it. That arrangement
works well for me.
The Paginator and I both made a couple of bonehead mistakes,
so we kept even on that tally. As I said yesterday, tabroom performed
admirably. We never once cursed CP about the progress of the tournament,
although the P did have at him because of the way ratings are posted. You can see,
on the PF strike sheet, how often someone might be around. You can’t see that
on the LD pref sheet unless, according to CP, you set up round obligations.
Feh, said the P. He went off on his own to address that further. Given that CP
can out-feh the best of us, I hold little hope for his success in that arena.
We did have partial obligations, although not set in
tabroom. We handled it on a spreadsheet, and it was a couple of minutes per
round but no great problem. I don’t think we ever pulled anyone in beyond
obligation, since no one ever stormed in and pleaded overwork. Then again,
aside from a few folks who seem to live in judges’ lounges (and this time I
really won’t name any names, but they are definitely from the realm of the
usual suspects), most people prefer actually sitting in the back of the room during the span of a tournament,
provided they get a few minutes to catch their breath once in a while. We do
try to give people a round or two off as a matter of course, but those folks
who are heavily preferred do indeed keep busy unless there is an overriding
claim. No good judge goes unpunished, in other words.
It turns out that there isn’t a coffee place within a
thousand miles, but somehow we remained caffeinated. People would get on their
camels and head out to the oases every once in a while, and lattes would
eventually appear. Saturday was a pretty nice day but Sunday was on the chilly
side, to put it mildly (or, more precisely, less mildly). Mid-October can go
either way. I can recall hanging out on the front courtyard basking in the sun
some years, and that was the way of it Saturday. On Sunday everyone was huddled
around the radiators, although we did get a report of one room being too hot.
Our initial response was to pack up the somewhat frigid tabroom and move in there (the P said I
looked like I was dressed for camping out on a winter’s night), but we ended up
staying put. We had a big screen overhead on which we posted the Status page of
tabroom, which automatically refreshes and allows you to watch the progress of
the rounds. Back in the olden days, before I was in this room, they would watch
a football game on this screen. The P and I not knowing what a football game is
led to our keeping the status page up. Thank God Rose JT doesn’t tab anymore!
Go…team? Green Peas? The Puckers? Whatever.
The Bronx wireless was a little dicey, but people got over
it. Only once did anyone come in to complain that a round couldn’t take place
in such-and-such a room because there weren’t enough outlets, to which we
responded as you might expect. There were way too many people at registration
who didn’t understand why you couldn’t change judges on Friday after prefs were
closed. Please, if you’re not paying attention to the minimal rules of the
game, stay home and watch the Green Pea Puckers rather than whining at us. Do
you even think about reading any of the emails we send?
And Kaz was in the motel from hell. I’ve stayed there
myself, and could have warned her if I had only known. Yes, the blasting base
of the disco music does indeed go on all night. She complained about it after
Friday, but on Saturday, when I dropped her off there, I saw her start to
boogaloo as she went through the door, deciding, I guess, to give in and go with
the flow. Party hearty, and all that. If you can’t beat ’em, dance with ’em.
Yee ha!
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