The hell with it.
I mean, it’s August 21. If I were still coaching, I’d already have met a couple of times with my team to go over the first resolutions of the season. Summer is over, forensics-wise. It’s time to get back to business.
One sure sign of the season to come is upon us is the home page of tabroom. There are already dozens of open registrations. Of course, I’ve already written about deadlines for the toolkit, and I’m a bit unsure that coaches who aren’t in school yet know who they’re sending to a tournament in November (doesn’t anyone read my great advice?), but there’s worse offenses for a tournament director than premature e-registration.
Yes, I just typed that.
My own season begins the first weekend after Labor Day at Byram Hills. I think this is their third year kicking off the season, and it’s worked pretty well. They have varsity divisions in LD and PF, and I think it’s seen by a lot of people the same way it’s billed, as a warm-up for Yale the following week. They’re not breaking down the doors to get in, but the divisions end up reasonably sized, with enough work on the tabbing end to warrant the expenditure of energy. That it’s a not very long drive from the chez doesn’t hurt.
The other event I’ve been giving thought to is Rather Large Bronx. Registration has been open for a week or so, and the numbers for the debate events are similarly rather large. I’m not the one who handles the WL here; that’s done by the TDs, but I do provide counsel on suspicious entries. We spent a lot of time a few weeks ago setting things up, mostly with Kaz and I pointing out what we think is important for a tournament in 2017.
Other events I know I’ll be working so far are Princeton and Scarsdale, and I would imagine the NYCFL events unless for reasons unknown they boot me out of the organization. Probably I'll be doing the other first-half-of-the-season usual-suspect tournaments as well: I’ve put them on my calendar.
In any case, the hell with it. The season has begun. The DJ will get done one way or the other. Meanwhile, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Or in the stirring words of Jean Shepherd. Excelsior, you meatball.