A typical Wednesday:
3:00 a.m. Text message from O’C telling me he’s updated his Facebook page.
6:00 a.m. Stare into face of ever punctual alarm cat. Get out of bed and get some exercise while listening to podcasts (either Wait Wait, TWIT or WDW Radio).
6:45 a.m. Turn on telephone. Read text message from O’C about updating his Facebook page. Perform morning ablutions.
7:25 a.m. Breakfast. Read the Times and the comics (all on paper). Post rude comment on O’Cs Facebook page.
7:45 a.m. Morning commute to work. Listen to audiobook. (At the moment, First Lord’s Fury.)
8:30 a.m. Turn on DJ computer and sort through morning messages. Do some real work.
10:00 a.m. Check personal email. Contribute to correspondence with Bietz, O’C and CP about why we once again can’t do our regularly scheduled TVFT. Plan to resume discussion next Wednesday at 10:00 a.m.
10:05 a.m. DJ continues.
10:43 a.m. Inadvertently interrupt spiel from boss’s boss, telling him that there’s no warrant to the claim he just made. Crawl under conference room table.
11:13 a.m. Read tweet from daughter proving yet again that her life is much more interesting than mine.
11:24 a.m. Read text from O’C proving yet again that his life is [fill in blank].
11:45 a.m. Sandwich at desk. Check personal email. Read registration changes to tournament this coming weekend. Fail to record any of them.
12:02 p.m. Scour internet for articles for Coachean Feed, DJ blog, annoyance of O’C, etc. Wonder for the millionth time who exactly Snooki is.
12:30 p.m. DJ resumes.
2:00 p.m. Walk next door for grande nonfat latte. Ogle latest technology at the Apple store.
2:10 p.m. Read private email while drinking latte. 3 people can’t figure out tabroom.com and have requested technical help. 7 people can figure out tabroom.com and have requested psychological help. Speecho-American Sailor signs up for tournament conducted three months ago. Ayn Rand fan club doesn’t care if I join them or not. Ayn Rand fans in Nigeria and elsewhere tell me that I have money, women and rejuvenated body parts awaiting me.
2:15 p.m. DJ resumes.
2:48 p.m. Turn around in chair so that if I fall asleep reading romance novel no one will notice.
2:51 p.m. Fall asleep in chair reading romance novel.
2:53 p.m. Wake up wondering if the ballots are in from round 4.
2:54 p.m. DJ resumes. Reject boring romance novel.
5:00 p.m. Check private email. O’C has ordered the trophies for the next 425 tournaments and says I know I love them. I know no such thing.
5:15 p.m. Evening commute. More audiobook.
6:00 p.m. Visit Aged P. Tell her I would be a better person if she had been a better mother. She tells me that if I had more schools, all my troubles would go away. Wonder when Aged P joined the NFL.
6:35 p.m. Arrive home. Turn on music. Prepare dinner. Eat dinner. Discuss the day’s events worthy of discussion, if any, with spouse.
8:00 p.m. Watch episode from Season 6 of E.R.
9:00 p.m. Turn on computer. Update podcasts, audiobooks and music. Scour RSS again.
10:00 p.m. Carry cat alarm up the stairs to the bedroom. Turn off phone in case there’s more messages from O’C. Brush cat alarm. Give cat alarm fresh water. Perform evening ablutions while trying not to trip over cat alarm.
10:15 p.m. Read.
10:16 p.m. Fall asleep.
A typical Thursday:
Rinse.
Repeat.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
A few fries short of a Happy Meal?
NDCA has to have generated more mail among staff and board than any twenty other tournaments. Nothing wrong with that; it’s just a curiosity. Usually we stumble into tournaments and hope for the best, praying that at least some of the contingencies have been prepared for. Here, if something hasn’t been prepared for, I’d be shocked. I think our hosts are even providing kielbasa. What else could anyone possibly want (Other than the Panivore)?
Going back to the subject of MJP, one of the issues that has to be realized is that, without it, and short of going totally random, decisions are still going to be made by someone about who gets to judge what. We have tried community ranking and found that it is pretty much exactly the same as what the traveling tab room would rank the judges. Our overall perception is the same as the community’s overall perception, in other words. We tend to go by experience more than anything else, unless a judge has demonstrated consistently inane ballots with useless commentary and baffling RFDs (we do try to see who’s doing what, as much as time permits). The sense is that most coaches and most ex-debaters provide reasonable adjudication, and thus we want them in the most competitive rounds. MJP presumably does the same thing, although it does eliminate the judge who always drops you. (So do simple strikes, come to think of it, but a couple of people—obviously not PJ—who have griped to me about MJP also have griped that their own crappy judges all got struck, and that this was all some sort of commie plot or something.) In my busy judging years, there were people who simply could not pick up my ballot, not because of malice on my part, or many times even recognition. I’d go into a round, judge somebody for the fifteenth time without recognizing them, and drop them for the fifteenth time. For them, it was epic. For me, it was one more round. For that matter, there were people I almost always picked up, and it’s commonplace that at any juncture in the activity there are people everyone is always picking up. These were not biases on my part, at least not consciously. Some people consistently lost and some consistently won. What can I say? I was involved in one epic stretch quite knowingly (albeit not maliciously), dropping one particular debater pretty much week after week for three years until I started picking her up all the time when she was a senior. What happened? I have my opinion, but the thing is, wouldn’t she have been justified in striking me as much as possible? From either of our positions, it was uncomfortable. So why not just move along? Everybody has a judge or two they can’t pick up come hell or high water, and it’s not a matter of adapting or getting better, it just is what it is. Why does a debater have to face that judge? What possible benefit can that be for anyone? Anyhow, I think that MJP isn’t all that different from tab rankings, and it does eliminate the perceived stinkers, or at least, if strikes would otherwise still be available, allows for some distinctions (keeping in mind that in MJP, a 3-3 or 4-4 is considered mutual, if not necessarily the priority).
I will point out that people who debate well tend to win at tournaments regardless of the judging structure. They win with MJP, they win parent judges, they win every damned thing. As I say, I’m not convinced that much of it makes that much difference, aside from judges whose incompetence is broadly manifest, i.e., the ones who obdurately refuse to listen and pay attention, the ones who don’t speak English, and the ones whose elevator doesn’t reach the top floor…
Going back to the subject of MJP, one of the issues that has to be realized is that, without it, and short of going totally random, decisions are still going to be made by someone about who gets to judge what. We have tried community ranking and found that it is pretty much exactly the same as what the traveling tab room would rank the judges. Our overall perception is the same as the community’s overall perception, in other words. We tend to go by experience more than anything else, unless a judge has demonstrated consistently inane ballots with useless commentary and baffling RFDs (we do try to see who’s doing what, as much as time permits). The sense is that most coaches and most ex-debaters provide reasonable adjudication, and thus we want them in the most competitive rounds. MJP presumably does the same thing, although it does eliminate the judge who always drops you. (So do simple strikes, come to think of it, but a couple of people—obviously not PJ—who have griped to me about MJP also have griped that their own crappy judges all got struck, and that this was all some sort of commie plot or something.) In my busy judging years, there were people who simply could not pick up my ballot, not because of malice on my part, or many times even recognition. I’d go into a round, judge somebody for the fifteenth time without recognizing them, and drop them for the fifteenth time. For them, it was epic. For me, it was one more round. For that matter, there were people I almost always picked up, and it’s commonplace that at any juncture in the activity there are people everyone is always picking up. These were not biases on my part, at least not consciously. Some people consistently lost and some consistently won. What can I say? I was involved in one epic stretch quite knowingly (albeit not maliciously), dropping one particular debater pretty much week after week for three years until I started picking her up all the time when she was a senior. What happened? I have my opinion, but the thing is, wouldn’t she have been justified in striking me as much as possible? From either of our positions, it was uncomfortable. So why not just move along? Everybody has a judge or two they can’t pick up come hell or high water, and it’s not a matter of adapting or getting better, it just is what it is. Why does a debater have to face that judge? What possible benefit can that be for anyone? Anyhow, I think that MJP isn’t all that different from tab rankings, and it does eliminate the perceived stinkers, or at least, if strikes would otherwise still be available, allows for some distinctions (keeping in mind that in MJP, a 3-3 or 4-4 is considered mutual, if not necessarily the priority).
I will point out that people who debate well tend to win at tournaments regardless of the judging structure. They win with MJP, they win parent judges, they win every damned thing. As I say, I’m not convinced that much of it makes that much difference, aside from judges whose incompetence is broadly manifest, i.e., the ones who obdurately refuse to listen and pay attention, the ones who don’t speak English, and the ones whose elevator doesn’t reach the top floor…
Extra! Lifeline needed!
Tomorrow night the Sailors attack their final Bean Trivia of the season. Both O'C and Kt are unavailable. Any volunteers?
Monday, April 11, 2011
In which various bits and pieces are reviewed, including the rearing of golf's ugly little head
PJ is someone to be listened to on the other side of the MJP coin; you should read his comments on what I wrote last week. The jury is very much still out on whether MJP would shut down innovation (or, for that matter, shut down change that isn’t innovative). One thing that should be pointed out is that, for the most part, a debater’s first couple of years are at the hands of random judges, a virtual bootcamp of learning to adapt, so MJP only affects seasoned pros. And for that matter, all highly preferred judges are not the same: each is highly preferred in his or her own way, hence all those paradigms. And all prefs are not 1-1, heaven knows…
This last weekend was without debate for me, and I don’t think I missed it. Saturday I played my first round of golf of the season, and wasn’t even terrible, although I wasn’t exactly good, and I couldn’t move my back for the ensuing twenty-four hours. Then yesterday we went into NYC for lunch with Kate, which was quite good. I did get bulletins along the way from the Sailor Speecho-American contingent at the NYSFL annual hoo-ha; not all of us had the weekend off, in other words. We broke one and got an honorable mention for the others, so nothing shabby there, I’m happy to say.
Next weekend will be roughly the opposite in terms of debate intensity, with the NDCA tournament running from Friday night registration to breaks on Monday. There’s been some discussion of the number of rounds; Bietz, with his anti-neg bias (so to speak), requested the eight rounds to even everyone’s opportunity to debate the dreaded aff. I think we’re even changing the name of the side from the Affirmative to the Dreaded Affirmative, complete with DAC, 1DAR and 2DAR. My research on this subject, as discussed on TVFT, supported Bietz’s position when addressing the strongest debaters. The problem is that there’s an immovable awards ceremony after our seventh round. One solution was to break 24, including lots of 4-3s, allowing folks on the bubble one last chance to debate neg. I’m not sure how this has been adjudicated; it’s up to the board of the organization. Either way, it’s a lot of rounds…
Also, I was comparing notes this morning with Tim Averill, with whom I’ll be tabbing PF at TOC. I think he was worried that I might not be up to the task, but I assured him that I’ve been down that road a time or two. I mean, with no MJP and no side restraints it will be the proverbial walk in the park. The only problem with that is that, historically, TOC weekend is also the weekend that the university fertilizes the grounds, thus making a walk in the park a little less…floral?
This last weekend was without debate for me, and I don’t think I missed it. Saturday I played my first round of golf of the season, and wasn’t even terrible, although I wasn’t exactly good, and I couldn’t move my back for the ensuing twenty-four hours. Then yesterday we went into NYC for lunch with Kate, which was quite good. I did get bulletins along the way from the Sailor Speecho-American contingent at the NYSFL annual hoo-ha; not all of us had the weekend off, in other words. We broke one and got an honorable mention for the others, so nothing shabby there, I’m happy to say.
Next weekend will be roughly the opposite in terms of debate intensity, with the NDCA tournament running from Friday night registration to breaks on Monday. There’s been some discussion of the number of rounds; Bietz, with his anti-neg bias (so to speak), requested the eight rounds to even everyone’s opportunity to debate the dreaded aff. I think we’re even changing the name of the side from the Affirmative to the Dreaded Affirmative, complete with DAC, 1DAR and 2DAR. My research on this subject, as discussed on TVFT, supported Bietz’s position when addressing the strongest debaters. The problem is that there’s an immovable awards ceremony after our seventh round. One solution was to break 24, including lots of 4-3s, allowing folks on the bubble one last chance to debate neg. I’m not sure how this has been adjudicated; it’s up to the board of the organization. Either way, it’s a lot of rounds…
Also, I was comparing notes this morning with Tim Averill, with whom I’ll be tabbing PF at TOC. I think he was worried that I might not be up to the task, but I assured him that I’ve been down that road a time or two. I mean, with no MJP and no side restraints it will be the proverbial walk in the park. The only problem with that is that, historically, TOC weekend is also the weekend that the university fertilizes the grounds, thus making a walk in the park a little less…floral?
Friday, April 08, 2011
Ch-ch-ch-ch-change-ezz
In more immediate news, next week is NDCA, which I’ll be doing with Kaz and Bietz. It looks interesting. We’re going to be doing e-ballots, and the Warm Room, for one thing, or, I guess, two things, both of which are new to me. Followers of TVFT know well that the idea of e-ballots intrigues all of us. We’ll see how it works out.
Last week at State, we had a strong but small field of VLD: 21. Still, we used MJP. In my various ramblings I have more and more come to believe that MJP is preferable to any other system, and this was a good test of how it would work on a small field. The answer? It worked fine. Almost all the rounds got 1-1s. If not, at least all the rounds on the bubble got them, and one or two other folk got the best we could do. If you can do it with this small a number, anything bigger has to work too. Part of it is that we get more proficient at it with each tournament. The only theoretical factor mitigating against MJP at this point, then, since we know it works in the tab room, is the idea that the judging of all rounds should be entirely random. I guess someone could defend that approach to the activity, but their arguments would have to be both that somehow MJP is bad and that occasionally judges who are totally inept (and there are way too many of these) should be deciding competitive success. My original fear of MJP was that it was allowing students to pick their own judges and that this somehow would benefit them unfairly, but that is silly because both students are picking, making the choice fair between them. That students might gravitate to a certain kind of judge and away from other kinds of judges can be portrayed as a bad thing, but only if you believe that the activity must remain static. Also, as I say, if one prefers randomness one has to accept judges who are, as I say, inept. I don’t make this up. There are some schools that send judges who are thoroughly unprepared, and in some cases linguistically incapable (they really can’t follow the English language). Curiously, in many cases the coaches protesting against MJP are the ones providing these unusable judges (who, in practice, end up in novice rounds since the rules of engagement don’t allow me to cut off their heads). Curiouser still, the students from these schools have no compunctions about using MJP themselves. Consistency is not a ruling factor, in other words.
But absent bad judges—and there are many schools who, while providing “lay” judges, do a good job of training them, and there are plenty of parent judges who I personally would rank as a 1 because they are both smart and experienced, so I do not revile the breed as a group (it spawned me, after all), any more than I believe that all former $ircuit debaters are automatically good—the question can probably be debated, is MJP a good thing, since it allows participants in the activity to, however indirectly, determine the direction of the activity. I think that the benefit of time helps us answer this question. A number of years ago, LD was going to hell in a handbasket because of then fashionable pomo “philosophy” and critical theory. This material, most of it cultural studies analysis at best (and incoherent nonsense at worst) offered little or no ethical framework for application to LD discussions, and threatened to derail any meaningful discourse. Now this material has mostly gone away except for the parts that have withstood the heat of the forge: some 20th Century philosophy is useful, including some critical theory. Is every resolution tainted due to race/feminism/LGBT issues? No. Are there valid uses of Foucault or (shudder) Nietzsche? Sure. LD was not derailed when this material was de rigeur. Everyone did a lot of new reading, we all learned a lot, and we moved on. Is theory the death of LD now? I don’t think so. We will learn better how to handle goofy positions that in the past we had no tools for, but every round won’t be a theory debate. Is everyone going too fast? Only if their adjudicators can’t follow them. The good debaters continue to adjust their speed for totally lay audiences (e.g., at the Newark RR final, where two of the fastest debaters around never got out of first gear), but why should they have to pretend that some judges can’t handle it? Judge adaptation, my old number one rule for success, is still up there in my book.
So, over the years, LD can be seen as going here, going there, going somewhere else. MJP can, conceivably, move it along quicker. Is it a dialectic of improvement? Not necessarily. Some of the changes are merely stylistic. Some are bad and they go away. Some are good and they stay. And probably some are bad and they stay and some are good and they go away. But this is a natural evolution, one way or the other. And let’s face it: doesn’t totally random judging also act as a determinant, albeit a negative one? If the pool is lightly experienced and not necessarily adroit with the technical or strategic background of the activity, don’t we end up missing out on a lot of benefits? Don’t we miss out on the use of new and interesting ideas (even those which may not prove out) if we force the students to always rechurn the same old ideas? If judges are trained that only certain philosophies are acceptable, isn’t that bad for education? I wonder if science teachers, sure of their fields the day they start teaching, don’t allow any new scientific ideas to enter their classrooms in the ensuing years? Do English teachers believe a book published today cannot have value? Do social studies classes not include ideas from people in today’s political arena?
Oh, well. I can appreciate conservatism. But I do suggest that it be clearly explained, and that it needs to keep up with the realities. Conservative coaches who proselytize against change simply for the sake of preventing change are doing a disservice to all of us. Proselytizing against change because of perceived harms, on the other hand, is fine. But then we must examine those harms, and the risks entailed, and make our decisions accordingly. Over time, I have found myself more and more on the side of the non-conservatives. What can I say? Live and learn. Or at least try.
Last week at State, we had a strong but small field of VLD: 21. Still, we used MJP. In my various ramblings I have more and more come to believe that MJP is preferable to any other system, and this was a good test of how it would work on a small field. The answer? It worked fine. Almost all the rounds got 1-1s. If not, at least all the rounds on the bubble got them, and one or two other folk got the best we could do. If you can do it with this small a number, anything bigger has to work too. Part of it is that we get more proficient at it with each tournament. The only theoretical factor mitigating against MJP at this point, then, since we know it works in the tab room, is the idea that the judging of all rounds should be entirely random. I guess someone could defend that approach to the activity, but their arguments would have to be both that somehow MJP is bad and that occasionally judges who are totally inept (and there are way too many of these) should be deciding competitive success. My original fear of MJP was that it was allowing students to pick their own judges and that this somehow would benefit them unfairly, but that is silly because both students are picking, making the choice fair between them. That students might gravitate to a certain kind of judge and away from other kinds of judges can be portrayed as a bad thing, but only if you believe that the activity must remain static. Also, as I say, if one prefers randomness one has to accept judges who are, as I say, inept. I don’t make this up. There are some schools that send judges who are thoroughly unprepared, and in some cases linguistically incapable (they really can’t follow the English language). Curiously, in many cases the coaches protesting against MJP are the ones providing these unusable judges (who, in practice, end up in novice rounds since the rules of engagement don’t allow me to cut off their heads). Curiouser still, the students from these schools have no compunctions about using MJP themselves. Consistency is not a ruling factor, in other words.
But absent bad judges—and there are many schools who, while providing “lay” judges, do a good job of training them, and there are plenty of parent judges who I personally would rank as a 1 because they are both smart and experienced, so I do not revile the breed as a group (it spawned me, after all), any more than I believe that all former $ircuit debaters are automatically good—the question can probably be debated, is MJP a good thing, since it allows participants in the activity to, however indirectly, determine the direction of the activity. I think that the benefit of time helps us answer this question. A number of years ago, LD was going to hell in a handbasket because of then fashionable pomo “philosophy” and critical theory. This material, most of it cultural studies analysis at best (and incoherent nonsense at worst) offered little or no ethical framework for application to LD discussions, and threatened to derail any meaningful discourse. Now this material has mostly gone away except for the parts that have withstood the heat of the forge: some 20th Century philosophy is useful, including some critical theory. Is every resolution tainted due to race/feminism/LGBT issues? No. Are there valid uses of Foucault or (shudder) Nietzsche? Sure. LD was not derailed when this material was de rigeur. Everyone did a lot of new reading, we all learned a lot, and we moved on. Is theory the death of LD now? I don’t think so. We will learn better how to handle goofy positions that in the past we had no tools for, but every round won’t be a theory debate. Is everyone going too fast? Only if their adjudicators can’t follow them. The good debaters continue to adjust their speed for totally lay audiences (e.g., at the Newark RR final, where two of the fastest debaters around never got out of first gear), but why should they have to pretend that some judges can’t handle it? Judge adaptation, my old number one rule for success, is still up there in my book.
So, over the years, LD can be seen as going here, going there, going somewhere else. MJP can, conceivably, move it along quicker. Is it a dialectic of improvement? Not necessarily. Some of the changes are merely stylistic. Some are bad and they go away. Some are good and they stay. And probably some are bad and they stay and some are good and they go away. But this is a natural evolution, one way or the other. And let’s face it: doesn’t totally random judging also act as a determinant, albeit a negative one? If the pool is lightly experienced and not necessarily adroit with the technical or strategic background of the activity, don’t we end up missing out on a lot of benefits? Don’t we miss out on the use of new and interesting ideas (even those which may not prove out) if we force the students to always rechurn the same old ideas? If judges are trained that only certain philosophies are acceptable, isn’t that bad for education? I wonder if science teachers, sure of their fields the day they start teaching, don’t allow any new scientific ideas to enter their classrooms in the ensuing years? Do English teachers believe a book published today cannot have value? Do social studies classes not include ideas from people in today’s political arena?
Oh, well. I can appreciate conservatism. But I do suggest that it be clearly explained, and that it needs to keep up with the realities. Conservative coaches who proselytize against change simply for the sake of preventing change are doing a disservice to all of us. Proselytizing against change because of perceived harms, on the other hand, is fine. But then we must examine those harms, and the risks entailed, and make our decisions accordingly. Over time, I have found myself more and more on the side of the non-conservatives. What can I say? Live and learn. Or at least try.
Regarding a message from Mike Bietz
A few days ago I spoke briefly, albeit reluctantly, about the discussion regarding TOC, because I felt it needed to be addressed but at the same time, I was repelled by it and didn't want to contribute to it. I still am and still don't, but a message my friend Mike Bietz has sent out to the NDCA indicates that despite the fact that the public venues for the discussion have temporarily shut down, there is still venom being spread through other channels.
One can believe whatever one wants about the situation itself, but the nature of the discussion has been detrimental to our activity as a whole. I have often refused to participate in discussions I have found wanting for one reason or another, but I have never suggested that others should not participate in them. But this time I do. I ask you, if you are among those continuing to carry on this conversation, please stop. The issues, such as they are, have been raised. That is what speech, per se, is about. Actions will or will not be taken, and everyone is free to regard those actions or lack thereof as they wish. But we are beyond the point where speech will have any effect short of inflicting even more personal harm. If you number yourself among the people who respect my opinion on things, please respect my opinion on this. Enough is enough.
To those who have already been harmed by this discussion, I extend my concern and my support. I am a member of this community because of the good that it does both educationally and socially. Please do not judge the community or undervalue that good on the basis of the last week or so. We have failed, but we are human. With luck, we will learn from this too.
One can believe whatever one wants about the situation itself, but the nature of the discussion has been detrimental to our activity as a whole. I have often refused to participate in discussions I have found wanting for one reason or another, but I have never suggested that others should not participate in them. But this time I do. I ask you, if you are among those continuing to carry on this conversation, please stop. The issues, such as they are, have been raised. That is what speech, per se, is about. Actions will or will not be taken, and everyone is free to regard those actions or lack thereof as they wish. But we are beyond the point where speech will have any effect short of inflicting even more personal harm. If you number yourself among the people who respect my opinion on things, please respect my opinion on this. Enough is enough.
To those who have already been harmed by this discussion, I extend my concern and my support. I am a member of this community because of the good that it does both educationally and socially. Please do not judge the community or undervalue that good on the basis of the last week or so. We have failed, but we are human. With luck, we will learn from this too.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Why we don’t change ballots
The following comes up now and then—I’m recalling a policy contretemps last weekend, which is why I bring it up now—and our stance in tab should be explained: A judge will come in and want to change a ballot after it’s been handed in and recorded, and we won’t do it (although we could). Why not?
Let me start first with an analogy. Imagine a jury trial. Both sides present their cases, after which the jury deliberates for as long as it takes to arrive at a decision. Once that decision is reached, it is handed down to the court. But what happens if a juror goes home that night and changes his or her mind? If something suddenly occurs to that person that turns their thinking upside down? The answer is, nothing. It is too late. The decision has been handed down. This is similarly true in non-jury situations. With SCOTUS, for example, cases are presented. The judges deliberate, then they announce their decision. The lawyers in the case do not, as the decision is read, start interrupting the judge and arguing further to advance their positions. It’s over. The decision has been reached.
We operate similarly in tab rooms. The belief is that the round is a certain length of time, beginning with the 1AR and ending with the 2AR. Once the last words of the 2AR are spoken, the debaters should shut their traps. Practically speaking, a judge should listen to the round, think, write a ballot and then critique. Most judges do operate this way. From tab’s point of view, what matters is the decision that is officially handed down. Once we have that ballot, that is the law.
What happens once in a while is that the judge has a change of heart, in effect going home after the jury deliberation and seeing things differently. They want to change their ballot. Sure, this sounds okay in some regards, but why do they want to change their ballot? Have they talked about the case to some other people, been further persuaded by a debater from the round in a conversation in the cafeteria, or do they now simply see things differently? We don’t know, which is why we say, when the ballot it handed in, that’s it. (We’re not talking about actual ballot-signing mistakes, of course, where low point wins are incorrectly marked or not marked, which we do doublecheck with the judges.) The thing is, there has to be some point where it’s official, and this is that logical point. If a line is not drawn, then no round is ever over. A week from now a judge can have a change of heart: what do we do then?
Do judges make adjudication mistakes? Of course. Good judges and bad make bad decisions. It is far from unusual for both debaters to be startled by a decision, even from a panel, even when the judges are highly preferred. It happens. The good news is, it’s a debate round, not a life imprisonment term for a crime you didn’t commit. Most debaters are equally on both ends of bad decisions over the stretch of their careers, winning about the same number of rounds they shouldn’t as they lost ones they should have won. But the point is, from the tab room point of view, we give out a ballot and trust that everything is fair and aboveboard in the round. The judge has a certain amount of time to make a decision, and once that ballot it handed in, the decision is official. We have seen ballots where judges have changed their minds before handing in the ballot, and we don’t question that (although we do hope it is not because of out-of-round arguing*, but simply a result of deeper thinking on the judge’s part during the deliberation process). It is what is submitted to us as final that we consider final. If not at that point, then how do you bracket future rounds? How do you ever conclude the tournament?
Fair? Probably. Unfortunate? Occasionally. Would you do it any differently? Unlikely.
* There is no 3NR or 3AR, and no rules concerning such. If a judge were to ask a question of a debater after the conclusion of the round, and the debater starts furthering a position, this would be outside the boundaries of the round, in that no-rules area. A judge must not be swayed by out-of-round arguments, and it is considered worse than bad form for a debater to attempt to make such arguments. When a debater is attempting to sway a judge after a decision is made, and a judge allows that to happen, it is a bad business that is often reported to tab as just that. Our hands are tied by the official ballot submitted, but that judge and that debater will usually be reprimanded.
Let me start first with an analogy. Imagine a jury trial. Both sides present their cases, after which the jury deliberates for as long as it takes to arrive at a decision. Once that decision is reached, it is handed down to the court. But what happens if a juror goes home that night and changes his or her mind? If something suddenly occurs to that person that turns their thinking upside down? The answer is, nothing. It is too late. The decision has been handed down. This is similarly true in non-jury situations. With SCOTUS, for example, cases are presented. The judges deliberate, then they announce their decision. The lawyers in the case do not, as the decision is read, start interrupting the judge and arguing further to advance their positions. It’s over. The decision has been reached.
We operate similarly in tab rooms. The belief is that the round is a certain length of time, beginning with the 1AR and ending with the 2AR. Once the last words of the 2AR are spoken, the debaters should shut their traps. Practically speaking, a judge should listen to the round, think, write a ballot and then critique. Most judges do operate this way. From tab’s point of view, what matters is the decision that is officially handed down. Once we have that ballot, that is the law.
What happens once in a while is that the judge has a change of heart, in effect going home after the jury deliberation and seeing things differently. They want to change their ballot. Sure, this sounds okay in some regards, but why do they want to change their ballot? Have they talked about the case to some other people, been further persuaded by a debater from the round in a conversation in the cafeteria, or do they now simply see things differently? We don’t know, which is why we say, when the ballot it handed in, that’s it. (We’re not talking about actual ballot-signing mistakes, of course, where low point wins are incorrectly marked or not marked, which we do doublecheck with the judges.) The thing is, there has to be some point where it’s official, and this is that logical point. If a line is not drawn, then no round is ever over. A week from now a judge can have a change of heart: what do we do then?
Do judges make adjudication mistakes? Of course. Good judges and bad make bad decisions. It is far from unusual for both debaters to be startled by a decision, even from a panel, even when the judges are highly preferred. It happens. The good news is, it’s a debate round, not a life imprisonment term for a crime you didn’t commit. Most debaters are equally on both ends of bad decisions over the stretch of their careers, winning about the same number of rounds they shouldn’t as they lost ones they should have won. But the point is, from the tab room point of view, we give out a ballot and trust that everything is fair and aboveboard in the round. The judge has a certain amount of time to make a decision, and once that ballot it handed in, the decision is official. We have seen ballots where judges have changed their minds before handing in the ballot, and we don’t question that (although we do hope it is not because of out-of-round arguing*, but simply a result of deeper thinking on the judge’s part during the deliberation process). It is what is submitted to us as final that we consider final. If not at that point, then how do you bracket future rounds? How do you ever conclude the tournament?
Fair? Probably. Unfortunate? Occasionally. Would you do it any differently? Unlikely.
* There is no 3NR or 3AR, and no rules concerning such. If a judge were to ask a question of a debater after the conclusion of the round, and the debater starts furthering a position, this would be outside the boundaries of the round, in that no-rules area. A judge must not be swayed by out-of-round arguments, and it is considered worse than bad form for a debater to attempt to make such arguments. When a debater is attempting to sway a judge after a decision is made, and a judge allows that to happen, it is a bad business that is often reported to tab as just that. Our hands are tied by the official ballot submitted, but that judge and that debater will usually be reprimanded.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Thousands (all right, seventy-two) cheer!
I am, of course, going to TOC with the Panivore. While she has traveled with others often during the year as she has bounced around on the $ircuit, I have stayed at home running my normal local course of events, thankful that we have such good friends in the region who are willing to add Sailors to their travel list (and, in the P’s case, suffer through watching her eat bagel after bagel after bagel, interrupted only occasionally by toast, baguettes and the odd Parker House roll). Nowadays the TOC has more judges than the Panivore has gluten, but one still gets put into the pool, and in my case, no doubt ranked about as low as the numbers will allow, not because I’m inherently terrible (although I may be) but because I am startlingly out of practice, and while some debaters will cagily rank me high knowing that they can pick up my ballot without batting the proverbial eye, most will prefer someone who is, shall we say, a little more au courant. I don’t blame them for that. But it would mean a pretty boring couple of days for me (as it is most judges who are not at the top of the preference scale). I’d judge a round or two at most, and one of them would only be because the first choice got run over by a bus on the way to the room. There’s nothing worse than walking into a round with a ballot in your hand and having the contestants fall to the ground to beat their breasts in despair. Then of course I’d be in an octos round, the ballot no one bothers to pick up as they speed along merrily and I do my best to keep up without toppling off the bed as I do so. There is no worse RFD in the world than, “I was able to flow more of you than the other one so you win.”
But here’s the good news. I’ll be tabbing PF. I will be much happier (and busier) as a result, but I’ll still have plenty of time to schmooze and enjoy the event. I do always like TOC, which I haven’t been to in a while. It’s civilized, with rounds ending for dinner, and Kentucky is pretty that time of year. I have always resented not being able to watch the Derby, but this year the tournament is the week before the race, which is nice for an old railbird like myself. And since I’ll be tabbing, I’ll feel productive for a change. Needless to say, my exit from the LD judging pool improves that pool quite a bit, which I guess makes this a win-win situation.
And that will be the end of the year. Looking forward, there’s this weekend off, NDCA, Easter, TOC, golf. Ahhh.
(By the way, I am happy to report that the Aged P situation has improved quite a bit. She is thriving as a result of the monitoring of meals and medications and regular physical therapy. We are looking for a nice assisted living place in the area, where she can maintain both independence and security. All’s well that ends well, in other words. There is still work to be done, but the stress is much less. Once again, Ahhh.)
But here’s the good news. I’ll be tabbing PF. I will be much happier (and busier) as a result, but I’ll still have plenty of time to schmooze and enjoy the event. I do always like TOC, which I haven’t been to in a while. It’s civilized, with rounds ending for dinner, and Kentucky is pretty that time of year. I have always resented not being able to watch the Derby, but this year the tournament is the week before the race, which is nice for an old railbird like myself. And since I’ll be tabbing, I’ll feel productive for a change. Needless to say, my exit from the LD judging pool improves that pool quite a bit, which I guess makes this a win-win situation.
And that will be the end of the year. Looking forward, there’s this weekend off, NDCA, Easter, TOC, golf. Ahhh.
(By the way, I am happy to report that the Aged P situation has improved quite a bit. She is thriving as a result of the monitoring of meals and medications and regular physical therapy. We are looking for a nice assisted living place in the area, where she can maintain both independence and security. All’s well that ends well, in other words. There is still work to be done, but the stress is much less. Once again, Ahhh.)
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
A serious note
I have begun writing about the present controversy a number of times, but I never get very far, because I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.
I posted an article on the feed today about that idiot in Florida who burned a Koran. The message of the article was that, yes, free speech allows a lot of things, but with the freedom of speech comes the responsibility to use that freedom well. I have to wonder how the debate community, which is heavily engaged in studying the subject of free speech, has so lost the ability to handle it responsibly. Incautious speech causes harms, and those harms can be deep. Further, racist speech, however covert, is among the most harmful, as its very utterance is painful. It points to what is the worst of the human animal, and the most animal part of our humanness. It is a sad thing.
It is also a sad thing—and often an illegal thing—to say or write bad things about people. Freedom of speech does not protect the speaker from the results of the personal harms that are caused. The debate community should know better than that. Name-calling in situations portrayed as evil-doing is socially and legally unacceptable. Why so many people seem to feel that they can do so freely, again with the education of debate behind them, is a disturbing thing.
There are real people being maligned, abused and hurt on all sides of this controversy. People are being accused of all sorts of things, and the remarks are cutting on a deep level, all of it over a debate tournament. Yes, for many its an important debate tournament, but is it as important as the feelings of any one person involved, be they a student or a coach?
My guess is that eventually some of the parties central to this controversy will speak their piece, there will be a flutter of responses both positive and negative, and then it will die down in the public arena. But for a couple of people, it will never die down. They will always have the memory of the public vituperation and excoriation that has occurred.
We can not be proud of ourselves for this. As I say, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I like to think better of us. I like to think we can discuss differences honestly and openly without resorting to character assassination.
I am disappointed.
I posted an article on the feed today about that idiot in Florida who burned a Koran. The message of the article was that, yes, free speech allows a lot of things, but with the freedom of speech comes the responsibility to use that freedom well. I have to wonder how the debate community, which is heavily engaged in studying the subject of free speech, has so lost the ability to handle it responsibly. Incautious speech causes harms, and those harms can be deep. Further, racist speech, however covert, is among the most harmful, as its very utterance is painful. It points to what is the worst of the human animal, and the most animal part of our humanness. It is a sad thing.
It is also a sad thing—and often an illegal thing—to say or write bad things about people. Freedom of speech does not protect the speaker from the results of the personal harms that are caused. The debate community should know better than that. Name-calling in situations portrayed as evil-doing is socially and legally unacceptable. Why so many people seem to feel that they can do so freely, again with the education of debate behind them, is a disturbing thing.
There are real people being maligned, abused and hurt on all sides of this controversy. People are being accused of all sorts of things, and the remarks are cutting on a deep level, all of it over a debate tournament. Yes, for many its an important debate tournament, but is it as important as the feelings of any one person involved, be they a student or a coach?
My guess is that eventually some of the parties central to this controversy will speak their piece, there will be a flutter of responses both positive and negative, and then it will die down in the public arena. But for a couple of people, it will never die down. They will always have the memory of the public vituperation and excoriation that has occurred.
We can not be proud of ourselves for this. As I say, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I like to think better of us. I like to think we can discuss differences honestly and openly without resorting to character assassination.
I am disappointed.
In which some tournaments are dragged and dropped on the calendar
One nice unexpected benefit of the State tournament was getting a chance to talk to Monticello’s RJT. Since her retirement from the field of forensics (but not from her teaching job) I’ve really only seen her on her home turf. This was a good opportunity to look at next year’s schedule and sort out a few things, namely, the positioning of the Monti MHL where it’s always been, followed by our taking a look at the Monti invitational. This has, since the beginning of time and perhaps even before, always occurred on Columbus Day weekend. But this year that weekend is right in the middle of the Jewish holidays, so an executive decision was made to move the invitational to the previous weekend, which is of course the earlier Jewish holiday, but the impact seemed less, and the day off on Friday would allow us to get an early start, so there you are. The best of a bad situation, simply put. As I’ve discussed with O’C in the past when the Vassar RR could have potentially fallen on the holidays, there is always the prospect of a special “Goyim Only” event, but no one has ever taken me up on that for some reason. Go figure.
Speaking of the VassaRR, I think O’C also declared what weekend that would fall on. (All of this is posted on my various schedules.) He’s been talking about holding it in NYC, but still under the Vassar auspices, to make it easier for people to get there from far afield. Makes sense to me. I have to admit, though, that I’m a little RRed out. I mean, there seems to be a round robin nowadays with almost every tournament. I can understand why it’s done, as an attempt to attract stronger competition, but that does tend to be the usual suspects week after week, and it does turn weekend tournaments into endless affairs and one wonders about regular old school after a while. The good news for me is that next year I’ll not be in the thrall of any usual suspect, so at least my calendar will be clear. I’ll miss Bean Trivia at Lexington, though.
Speaking of the VassaRR, I think O’C also declared what weekend that would fall on. (All of this is posted on my various schedules.) He’s been talking about holding it in NYC, but still under the Vassar auspices, to make it easier for people to get there from far afield. Makes sense to me. I have to admit, though, that I’m a little RRed out. I mean, there seems to be a round robin nowadays with almost every tournament. I can understand why it’s done, as an attempt to attract stronger competition, but that does tend to be the usual suspects week after week, and it does turn weekend tournaments into endless affairs and one wonders about regular old school after a while. The good news for me is that next year I’ll not be in the thrall of any usual suspect, so at least my calendar will be clear. I’ll miss Bean Trivia at Lexington, though.
Monday, April 04, 2011
The Art of the State
We did it.
This weekend, after years of frustration with our state organization (about which the VCA has been informed ad nauseum), the debate coaches from almost all the policy schools and a seriously strong representation of the LD schools in the state got together and threw their own shindig in the style of the rest of the tournaments we attend throughout the year. (We also had PF, but that’s already still so small around here that it’s hard to claim much traction one way or the other.) It was a hit. Everybody had a good time, the rounds went off neatly, the judging was super, and anyone who didn’t collapse of heart failure going up and down the six flights of stairs went away well satisfied.
This first venture was down at Brooklyn Tech, where we had an MHL last year. I liked the building a lot then, which was why I was glad we had it for this event, although I don’t think it registered on me how many stairs there were. Coming in early Saturday morning and mounting to the heights carrying all my gear is going in the book as my physical achievement of the year, and I’m in fairly decent shape for a fossil. By the end of the day it probably looked like Mt. Everest, with a string of abandoned gear surrounding the climbers who whispered to their colleagues, “Just go on without me.” At one point I was heading up and an unaccompanied policy tub was heading down, and there were people in hysterics (positive or negative I couldn’t tell you) at the top. For most of the participants it was the last debate of the season, so how much could they miss this year’s folders?
Needless to say, putting O’C in charge of the trophies meant that we had not trophies but Trophies. ‘Nuff said.
I can’t speak to the food at the event, because Friday the Sailors and I met up with JV for some nice Italian near our hotel (we got out fairly early), and Saturday JV and I went to this great burger place for lunch, and between the two, the job was done (not to mention a pile of bacon at the hotel buffet that even Kaz would have been satisfied with). JV and I were tabbing PF and LD, while Kaz and Lakeland’s SB were handling all the policy divisions (including what Kaz described as a middle school group as cute as the dickens).
As for the competition and judging, they speak for themselves. The Sailors acquitted themselves admirably, with the PC making it all the way to semis, and Liana making non-advancing octos (we wanted to acknowledge the top 12, but had to be out of the building by 8:00 Saturday night). Both also picked up speaker awards, so it has been a good year for the team in general, especially when you add in our Speecho-American folks (who go to the other State tournament this coming weekend). The PC even finally got his plaque from O’C acknowledging him as, well, the PC. Pretty cool, especially since it doesn’t say People’s Champion of what. Could be anything. That’s a plaque he can hang in any room he’s in for the rest of his life.
So, a great start for a new organization and a new tournament. It was great to have all those UDL schools there, and the middle-schoolers. While a lot of us worked hard to make this happen, top credit goes to Jon Cruz (note use of whole name) who, as the head of the organization and tournament director, put it all together. Kudos.
This weekend, after years of frustration with our state organization (about which the VCA has been informed ad nauseum), the debate coaches from almost all the policy schools and a seriously strong representation of the LD schools in the state got together and threw their own shindig in the style of the rest of the tournaments we attend throughout the year. (We also had PF, but that’s already still so small around here that it’s hard to claim much traction one way or the other.) It was a hit. Everybody had a good time, the rounds went off neatly, the judging was super, and anyone who didn’t collapse of heart failure going up and down the six flights of stairs went away well satisfied.
This first venture was down at Brooklyn Tech, where we had an MHL last year. I liked the building a lot then, which was why I was glad we had it for this event, although I don’t think it registered on me how many stairs there were. Coming in early Saturday morning and mounting to the heights carrying all my gear is going in the book as my physical achievement of the year, and I’m in fairly decent shape for a fossil. By the end of the day it probably looked like Mt. Everest, with a string of abandoned gear surrounding the climbers who whispered to their colleagues, “Just go on without me.” At one point I was heading up and an unaccompanied policy tub was heading down, and there were people in hysterics (positive or negative I couldn’t tell you) at the top. For most of the participants it was the last debate of the season, so how much could they miss this year’s folders?
Needless to say, putting O’C in charge of the trophies meant that we had not trophies but Trophies. ‘Nuff said.
I can’t speak to the food at the event, because Friday the Sailors and I met up with JV for some nice Italian near our hotel (we got out fairly early), and Saturday JV and I went to this great burger place for lunch, and between the two, the job was done (not to mention a pile of bacon at the hotel buffet that even Kaz would have been satisfied with). JV and I were tabbing PF and LD, while Kaz and Lakeland’s SB were handling all the policy divisions (including what Kaz described as a middle school group as cute as the dickens).
As for the competition and judging, they speak for themselves. The Sailors acquitted themselves admirably, with the PC making it all the way to semis, and Liana making non-advancing octos (we wanted to acknowledge the top 12, but had to be out of the building by 8:00 Saturday night). Both also picked up speaker awards, so it has been a good year for the team in general, especially when you add in our Speecho-American folks (who go to the other State tournament this coming weekend). The PC even finally got his plaque from O’C acknowledging him as, well, the PC. Pretty cool, especially since it doesn’t say People’s Champion of what. Could be anything. That’s a plaque he can hang in any room he’s in for the rest of his life.
So, a great start for a new organization and a new tournament. It was great to have all those UDL schools there, and the middle-schoolers. While a lot of us worked hard to make this happen, top credit goes to Jon Cruz (note use of whole name) who, as the head of the organization and tournament director, put it all together. Kudos.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
I admit I had to look it up, but I know O'C won't have to.
Things continue nuttily on the home and DJ fronts, the former being a little eased by the need to wait and evaluate, and the latter being heated up in nothing but good ways (projects I’ve wanted to do finally happening, that sort of thing). Since the debate season continues to rapidly wrap up, at least I’m not too conflicted. Lacking enough hours in the day, perhaps, but that is better than too many, in my experience.
Tying up the loose ends of the District tournament has not proven as boringly administrative as expected. Yes, they expect you to send them both copies of the Goy electronic data and the printouts from the data, for reasons only a systems analyst in pon farr can explain, not to mention that this goes here and that goes there for reasons that might actually make sense, but there has been a glitsch that keeps the congress speaker data from taking. (Oh, the horror of not immediately being rewarded with congress speaker points; if that doesn’t bring on pon farr, nothing will!) Whatever. At least they haven’t come to my house in the night and beaten me with sticks. Although I do gather that the executive committee had put that on the agenda.
Last night the Sailors heading for the State finals congregated at the chez. NoShow Junior explained in brilliant detail how he managed to miss Districts (he claimed to have screwed up, an excuse one could not argue with), and everyone explained why working on their cases would have brought on the vapors, and my internet winkled out, but I think it might have something to do with my cutting back on my cable service, because it only lasted a little while. As did the meeting. So as we await the blizzard of ’11 the Sailors are as ready as they ever are. Where did these forecasts of 5 to 10 inches come from? Sunday golf doesn’t look very likely, I’ll say that.
Cutting back cable service is the most modern thing I’ve done since eliminating my landline phone. I watch little TV as such, but I’ve been paying as if I’ve been glued to it. A light diet of old shows or the occasional movie on DVD and I’m full, plus a couple of times a year (or whenever it’s on, whichever comes first) I watch the Superbowl to try to figure out what a down is. Fortunately our cable provider has a dynamic website overflowing with options. If you drill down for a couple of months you will discover the option for reducing your service. The service rep was nice enough about it (he didn’t threaten to come to my house in the night and beat me with sticks), and the deed is now done. So don’t be coming over to the chez to watch any of them newfangled channel networks. Or much else, actually. I’ll be happy to play you a tune on the piano, though.
Speaking of technology, Amazon will now allow me to buy music and store it in the cloud. Whatever. I am a big Amazon buyer versus iTunes because they have more deals and freebies, but that may not last, especially if MobileMe goes both free and musical, since rumors are that you’ll be able to store all your music rather than just some purchases. I have to admit that neither is terribly compelling to me at the moment. At home I already have my music, and on the road I don’t necessarily have internet access (you try hanging around in high schools and see if your experience is any different), nor do I really need to only have my music. Sometimes I like to listen to music I don’t have. Hence Pandora & c. It’s interesting how this business keeps changing, though. It used to be if you wanted to hear a Mozart quartet, you became Mozart’s patron and had him move into the castle with three other musicians. Nowadays it’s a bit different. And I don’t think it’s anywhere near over yet.
Tying up the loose ends of the District tournament has not proven as boringly administrative as expected. Yes, they expect you to send them both copies of the Goy electronic data and the printouts from the data, for reasons only a systems analyst in pon farr can explain, not to mention that this goes here and that goes there for reasons that might actually make sense, but there has been a glitsch that keeps the congress speaker data from taking. (Oh, the horror of not immediately being rewarded with congress speaker points; if that doesn’t bring on pon farr, nothing will!) Whatever. At least they haven’t come to my house in the night and beaten me with sticks. Although I do gather that the executive committee had put that on the agenda.
Last night the Sailors heading for the State finals congregated at the chez. NoShow Junior explained in brilliant detail how he managed to miss Districts (he claimed to have screwed up, an excuse one could not argue with), and everyone explained why working on their cases would have brought on the vapors, and my internet winkled out, but I think it might have something to do with my cutting back on my cable service, because it only lasted a little while. As did the meeting. So as we await the blizzard of ’11 the Sailors are as ready as they ever are. Where did these forecasts of 5 to 10 inches come from? Sunday golf doesn’t look very likely, I’ll say that.
Cutting back cable service is the most modern thing I’ve done since eliminating my landline phone. I watch little TV as such, but I’ve been paying as if I’ve been glued to it. A light diet of old shows or the occasional movie on DVD and I’m full, plus a couple of times a year (or whenever it’s on, whichever comes first) I watch the Superbowl to try to figure out what a down is. Fortunately our cable provider has a dynamic website overflowing with options. If you drill down for a couple of months you will discover the option for reducing your service. The service rep was nice enough about it (he didn’t threaten to come to my house in the night and beat me with sticks), and the deed is now done. So don’t be coming over to the chez to watch any of them newfangled channel networks. Or much else, actually. I’ll be happy to play you a tune on the piano, though.
Speaking of technology, Amazon will now allow me to buy music and store it in the cloud. Whatever. I am a big Amazon buyer versus iTunes because they have more deals and freebies, but that may not last, especially if MobileMe goes both free and musical, since rumors are that you’ll be able to store all your music rather than just some purchases. I have to admit that neither is terribly compelling to me at the moment. At home I already have my music, and on the road I don’t necessarily have internet access (you try hanging around in high schools and see if your experience is any different), nor do I really need to only have my music. Sometimes I like to listen to music I don’t have. Hence Pandora & c. It’s interesting how this business keeps changing, though. It used to be if you wanted to hear a Mozart quartet, you became Mozart’s patron and had him move into the castle with three other musicians. Nowadays it’s a bit different. And I don’t think it’s anywhere near over yet.
Monday, March 28, 2011
And so we bid a fond farewell
If we had more schools, all our problems would go away…
Districts was Saturday, and to be honest, running it as a red light district had its benefits. For one thing, none of the events aside from LD went into extra innings because by round 3 we were at finals, and there you were. And we had plenty of judges, so everything was adjudicated at a great level. Yes, we didn’t get two people into every event but we did get one person. As Catholic Charlie said, that’s probably better than hitching a ride with another district. Seeing that we’ll never have the requisite number of active schools, this may just be the eternal future. So it shall be written, so it shall be done.
There were a couple of problems with the Goy. Kaz and CC know how to draw a bye like most people know how to breathe. And there’s a window in the program that shows who is or isn’t eligible, and it agreed with us. But when it came to actually assigning the byes, the software lost its way. We also had to call in on an issue with advancing the wrong people, but that only turned out to be a setting. One double-entered kid qualing in two places threw one whole division for a loop, but it’s clear from the data who the qualifier ought to be, even if the Goy kept it blank (both the qualifier and the alternate). I did have some problems entering Congress data online yesterday, but Rippin’ has told me all is fixed so I’ll try it again tonight. To tell you the truth, for the most part the Goy worked fine, although no better or worse than cards when you have pros like Kaz and Charlie. Whatever. I packed everything up and mailed it in today. And that’s that.
Given the cost and the rewards of NFL, I’ve pretty much decided that next year we will be withdrawing from the organization. We’re not getting enough for our money—which over the space of a year could support our attending an invitational—and given that most of this money has come out of my own pocket, ‘nuff said. I somehow doubt that Rippin’ will cry too much over the loss. I gather that the champagne was flowing back on the day I retired as the World’s Worst District Chair, and it was only through mischance that I ended up back in the position. Losing me completely, and the team, will no doubt send skyrockets up over Wisconsin. As the VCA knows, I have not gone into detail this time around about our woes. Enough is enough. Suffice it to say that it’s over, and there you are.
Onward.
Districts was Saturday, and to be honest, running it as a red light district had its benefits. For one thing, none of the events aside from LD went into extra innings because by round 3 we were at finals, and there you were. And we had plenty of judges, so everything was adjudicated at a great level. Yes, we didn’t get two people into every event but we did get one person. As Catholic Charlie said, that’s probably better than hitching a ride with another district. Seeing that we’ll never have the requisite number of active schools, this may just be the eternal future. So it shall be written, so it shall be done.
There were a couple of problems with the Goy. Kaz and CC know how to draw a bye like most people know how to breathe. And there’s a window in the program that shows who is or isn’t eligible, and it agreed with us. But when it came to actually assigning the byes, the software lost its way. We also had to call in on an issue with advancing the wrong people, but that only turned out to be a setting. One double-entered kid qualing in two places threw one whole division for a loop, but it’s clear from the data who the qualifier ought to be, even if the Goy kept it blank (both the qualifier and the alternate). I did have some problems entering Congress data online yesterday, but Rippin’ has told me all is fixed so I’ll try it again tonight. To tell you the truth, for the most part the Goy worked fine, although no better or worse than cards when you have pros like Kaz and Charlie. Whatever. I packed everything up and mailed it in today. And that’s that.
Given the cost and the rewards of NFL, I’ve pretty much decided that next year we will be withdrawing from the organization. We’re not getting enough for our money—which over the space of a year could support our attending an invitational—and given that most of this money has come out of my own pocket, ‘nuff said. I somehow doubt that Rippin’ will cry too much over the loss. I gather that the champagne was flowing back on the day I retired as the World’s Worst District Chair, and it was only through mischance that I ended up back in the position. Losing me completely, and the team, will no doubt send skyrockets up over Wisconsin. As the VCA knows, I have not gone into detail this time around about our woes. Enough is enough. Suffice it to say that it’s over, and there you are.
Onward.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tempus fugit
Tonight we’ll be on the TVFT case again. We did want to do it last week, but everyone was scattered about for one reason or another. The question we hope to address, or at least the starting question, is what are the defining characteristics of a finals bid tournament? And, after that presumably, semis and quarters. We’ll see how far we get.
Meanwhile people keep sending me info on the District tournament, judge names and bills and the like. The odd drop (for a surprise bris, if I remember correctly, a thought that rather perplexes me). The Goy keeps offering tutorials on the software, but when you can practically tab the thing on your fingers, plus your time is pretty much totally taken between the DJ and the Aged P, that’s just not going to happen.
The State tournament looms the weekend after this one. A couple of the divisions are small, but we’ll handle those as RRs. It was suggested that we could fold in divisions then break out into separate elims, but I’ve never understood the logic behind that. I mean, it is almost by definition a guarantee that the first years will lose to the second years who will lose to the third/fourth years, so the key to success would seem to be good draws, meaning that your chances of breaking are more a matter of luck than skill. Hand-pairing an RR, on the other hand, keeps you debating at your level, although without meaningful brackets. That sounds better to me, and certainly a better test of competitive ability.
Otherwise, as I say, it’s mostly time totally taken between the DJ and the Aged P. Which is too bad, because I really want to write about how an art design is or isn’t young (a DJ issue that I couldn’t discuss as well there as here), plus there’s the other writing I’ve been distracted from. Oh well…
Meanwhile people keep sending me info on the District tournament, judge names and bills and the like. The odd drop (for a surprise bris, if I remember correctly, a thought that rather perplexes me). The Goy keeps offering tutorials on the software, but when you can practically tab the thing on your fingers, plus your time is pretty much totally taken between the DJ and the Aged P, that’s just not going to happen.
The State tournament looms the weekend after this one. A couple of the divisions are small, but we’ll handle those as RRs. It was suggested that we could fold in divisions then break out into separate elims, but I’ve never understood the logic behind that. I mean, it is almost by definition a guarantee that the first years will lose to the second years who will lose to the third/fourth years, so the key to success would seem to be good draws, meaning that your chances of breaking are more a matter of luck than skill. Hand-pairing an RR, on the other hand, keeps you debating at your level, although without meaningful brackets. That sounds better to me, and certainly a better test of competitive ability.
Otherwise, as I say, it’s mostly time totally taken between the DJ and the Aged P. Which is too bad, because I really want to write about how an art design is or isn’t young (a DJ issue that I couldn’t discuss as well there as here), plus there’s the other writing I’ve been distracted from. Oh well…
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Bonus question: What's the name of Space Mountain?
Rippin’ informs me that we only need 1 judge in the presets, not 3. Much better.
I am getting erratic about holding Sailor meetings in these last dwindling days of the season. First of all, I’m running around a bit now trying to get my aged p. settled, and second of all, we’ve sort of run out of steam. There’s not much more to say about anything, truth to tell. Last week it was just me and the P telling war stories (“Back when I used to judge, justice was your value and you stuck with it through thick and thin…”). In other words, it’s time to move on.
I had trouble posting results of the Grands to tabroom. I literally couldn’t see the posting platform. CP told me to look where it always is, but always, in my opinion, was now more like once in a while. He kept telling me it was there and I kept telling him I couldn’t see it, and then finally I could. This is my fault…how? Anyhow, the results went up last night, two days late. I blame CP, end of story.
I do have hotel rooms and the like set for all the upcoming qualifiers. I do like it when a hotel creates a website just for the tournament group. Of course, if it’s like TOC, it only works if you stay two extra days, but with some of them it’s an absolute charm, e.g. the CatNats hotel. Bing, bam, reservations done. Simple as cake. After Districts this week the future holds State, NDCA and TOC. After which, I’m done for the season. Somewhere along the line we need the Sailor’s final batch of bean trivia, but that’s something else altogether. It’s the one meeting everybody attends, for one thing. Texting Cruz as one of the game options isn’t what it used to be though, as lately he’s been having dinner with Obama or something silly like that that has taken preference. Oh, well. He doesn’t know the name of the flying elephant in the Magic Kingdom, so who would want to use him as a lifeline anyhow?
I am getting erratic about holding Sailor meetings in these last dwindling days of the season. First of all, I’m running around a bit now trying to get my aged p. settled, and second of all, we’ve sort of run out of steam. There’s not much more to say about anything, truth to tell. Last week it was just me and the P telling war stories (“Back when I used to judge, justice was your value and you stuck with it through thick and thin…”). In other words, it’s time to move on.
I had trouble posting results of the Grands to tabroom. I literally couldn’t see the posting platform. CP told me to look where it always is, but always, in my opinion, was now more like once in a while. He kept telling me it was there and I kept telling him I couldn’t see it, and then finally I could. This is my fault…how? Anyhow, the results went up last night, two days late. I blame CP, end of story.
I do have hotel rooms and the like set for all the upcoming qualifiers. I do like it when a hotel creates a website just for the tournament group. Of course, if it’s like TOC, it only works if you stay two extra days, but with some of them it’s an absolute charm, e.g. the CatNats hotel. Bing, bam, reservations done. Simple as cake. After Districts this week the future holds State, NDCA and TOC. After which, I’m done for the season. Somewhere along the line we need the Sailor’s final batch of bean trivia, but that’s something else altogether. It’s the one meeting everybody attends, for one thing. Texting Cruz as one of the game options isn’t what it used to be though, as lately he’s been having dinner with Obama or something silly like that that has taken preference. Oh, well. He doesn’t know the name of the flying elephant in the Magic Kingdom, so who would want to use him as a lifeline anyhow?
Monday, March 21, 2011
And don't ask how many bagels they consume in a week
Last Saturday was CFL Grands. Twas a lovely day.
First of all, if fewer than 20 teams are registered, we only have to use two judges per round. Right off the bat, JV and Kaz and I were dancing in the aisles of Stuyvesant. Nineteen—count ‘em, 19—LDers, so we made this by the skin of our teeth. Doing 3 is very hard, and can require double-flighting. Doing 2 just requires paying attention, especially when you can do the odd bit of juggling between PF and LD judges (a small number of the former were qualified as the latter, and a large number of the latter were qualified as the former), but it isn’t a nightmare. I remember back to some of our earlier shots at this, and some of the Grands I attended before I was tabbing it, when we’d be out of there no earlier than 8:00. This time we announced awards at 4:15, and I was standing around killing time waiting for everyone to show up. Nifty.
As far as qualifications of Sailors was concerned, Panivore Junior qualified in DI (or DP or DIP or DRIP or whatever they call it). The PJ is the younger brother of the P, and I might not have mentioned him before, but he’s a good actor and a lousy eater, making me seriously wonder if it’s just a matter of the family figuring that the only way to raise kids is to make them work hard and feed them bread and water. Of course, that’s an exaggeration. They eat more than bread and water. I’ve seen the official Hendrick Hudson Town Mac & Cheese truck delivering to their house: they have a coal shuttle into the basement into which the truck just pours a couple of tons of M&C a week to feed the panivorous young ‘uns. What can I say? While all this was going on, the P herself was down at Whitman doing quite well at that venue. Reports on the tournament were very positive. If only we could find them a weekend earlier in the year…
The topper of the day at CFL Grands for me was the announcement of the Rippon award, a scholarship given annually by the NYCFL primarily for representing the ideals of the league: leadership through forensics, personal growth, team and community spirit. I had nominated the People’s Champion, and lo and behold, he won it. (That’s Zack Struver for those who don’t follow the nicknames—he deserves a real name for this achievement.) I couldn’t have been prouder.
Next week is the NYS District tournament, and I spent a bunch of time yesterday boning up on the rules and setting up the software. [Sigh.] You need three rounds, minimum, and when there’s 8 or fewer entries, 3 judges. This means, for us, for all intents and purposes, 3 rounds with 3 judges from minute one. My head hurts already.
First of all, if fewer than 20 teams are registered, we only have to use two judges per round. Right off the bat, JV and Kaz and I were dancing in the aisles of Stuyvesant. Nineteen—count ‘em, 19—LDers, so we made this by the skin of our teeth. Doing 3 is very hard, and can require double-flighting. Doing 2 just requires paying attention, especially when you can do the odd bit of juggling between PF and LD judges (a small number of the former were qualified as the latter, and a large number of the latter were qualified as the former), but it isn’t a nightmare. I remember back to some of our earlier shots at this, and some of the Grands I attended before I was tabbing it, when we’d be out of there no earlier than 8:00. This time we announced awards at 4:15, and I was standing around killing time waiting for everyone to show up. Nifty.
As far as qualifications of Sailors was concerned, Panivore Junior qualified in DI (or DP or DIP or DRIP or whatever they call it). The PJ is the younger brother of the P, and I might not have mentioned him before, but he’s a good actor and a lousy eater, making me seriously wonder if it’s just a matter of the family figuring that the only way to raise kids is to make them work hard and feed them bread and water. Of course, that’s an exaggeration. They eat more than bread and water. I’ve seen the official Hendrick Hudson Town Mac & Cheese truck delivering to their house: they have a coal shuttle into the basement into which the truck just pours a couple of tons of M&C a week to feed the panivorous young ‘uns. What can I say? While all this was going on, the P herself was down at Whitman doing quite well at that venue. Reports on the tournament were very positive. If only we could find them a weekend earlier in the year…
The topper of the day at CFL Grands for me was the announcement of the Rippon award, a scholarship given annually by the NYCFL primarily for representing the ideals of the league: leadership through forensics, personal growth, team and community spirit. I had nominated the People’s Champion, and lo and behold, he won it. (That’s Zack Struver for those who don’t follow the nicknames—he deserves a real name for this achievement.) I couldn’t have been prouder.
Next week is the NYS District tournament, and I spent a bunch of time yesterday boning up on the rules and setting up the software. [Sigh.] You need three rounds, minimum, and when there’s 8 or fewer entries, 3 judges. This means, for us, for all intents and purposes, 3 rounds with 3 judges from minute one. My head hurts already.
Friday, March 18, 2011
What’s up?
My mother was taken ill two weeks ago today. We took her to the hospital, and while she was terribly disoriented, she seemed to have no physical problems. She certainly wasn’t in any pain. The doctors offered a variety of diagnoses, but admitted that they were stumped. Fortunately, she recovered herself over the next few days, and we were able to take her back to our house. She stayed there a few days, and seemed to be back to normal, at which point we figured that she could go back to her own condo, about 15 minutes from our house. Obviously she was going to need a regular eye on her health, but the doctor agreed that she was doing fine. The next couple of days were spent primarily chauffering around to her various physicians.
Yesterday, she relapsed, and we brought her back to the hospital. I’m not quite sure what will happen next. So far there is no new diagnosis, but they are adjusting her medications.
This blog is, of course, not about my personal life except insofar as that life intersects with debate and debate life. Still, people sort of expect me to be here, as well as at various real-life venues, and lately that has not been the case, and I felt that some explanation was called far. You don’t need to feel that you should send me messages of support; I know you understand, and I know you’ll be hoping for the best outcome. I appreciate all the friends I have made over the years in forensics, and know that they are always there for you.
Tomorrow I’m going to run the CFL qualifier in Manhattan, and next week I’m running the NFL qualifier in Pelham. I am going to try to get things back on track while solving the problems at hand with the help of my family. It is all one can do. If I can get my schedule back into some semblance of alignment, I also hope to recommence posting here early next week.
Again, thanks for you implicit support.
Yesterday, she relapsed, and we brought her back to the hospital. I’m not quite sure what will happen next. So far there is no new diagnosis, but they are adjusting her medications.
This blog is, of course, not about my personal life except insofar as that life intersects with debate and debate life. Still, people sort of expect me to be here, as well as at various real-life venues, and lately that has not been the case, and I felt that some explanation was called far. You don’t need to feel that you should send me messages of support; I know you understand, and I know you’ll be hoping for the best outcome. I appreciate all the friends I have made over the years in forensics, and know that they are always there for you.
Tomorrow I’m going to run the CFL qualifier in Manhattan, and next week I’m running the NFL qualifier in Pelham. I am going to try to get things back on track while solving the problems at hand with the help of my family. It is all one can do. If I can get my schedule back into some semblance of alignment, I also hope to recommence posting here early next week.
Again, thanks for you implicit support.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A quick update
At the moment my life is anything but coachean. I've had some family issues with my mother falling ill that have kept me busy. She is doing quite well now, but there are still arrangements to be made (she is, after all, 85; her days of judging policy, if any, are now behind her). I trust that I will be back to the old stand in another week or so. In the meanwhile, I have asked Charlie Sheen and Muammar Gadaffi to keep you entertained in my absence.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Notes from a darkened, quiet sickroom [cough cough]
I think I’m mostly over this cold I picked up last week. The first thing to go and the last thing to come back is my voice. If I talk even for a little while I start rasping and whispering and saying things like “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” At the Sailor’s meeting this week I pretty much gave up trying, but as I say, I’m almost back to normal now. One benefit of being sick is that one is allowed to pamper oneself, and I took advantage of my sniffles and coughs to pore over a little cache of comics I’ve been saving for just such an opportunity, not to mention an extra trip or two to the ice cream freezer. Life is good even when it sucks, if you just give it a little try.
We’re down to two entries at Lakeland this weekend. I really am beginning to feel the bite of small teamness. Next year, in the wake of the P and the P’s C's exits, it’s going to be pretty lonely if we don’t pick up a passel of plebes to replace them. I will certainly have no active seniors, for one thing. On the positive side, it gets me out of doing RRs, but on the negative side, I sort of like doing RRs, or at least hanging out at them. Can O’C handle the beans all alone during the Lexwegian event? I don’t know. All those questions about obscure Star Trek episodes and who won round 3 of the Ridge tournament in 2007 in room 204 are going to be pretty confounding to the assembled multitudes.
I am glad that I’m not struck by techlust over the iPad2. I was slow to embrace the iPad, but when I did, I fell in love, and I’d hate to have to upgrade so early in the game, or more likely piss and moan about not upgrading. I’m pretty sure that GarageBand will work on the original machine, and I want that a lot, and I really don’t care about having more non-camera cameras at my disposal (while I like having the iPhone camera in my pocket, my ultimate lenses are on my SLR), so I’m not going to get all het up about it. This could be a real problem for me. There’s an Apple Store in the mall right next door to the DJ, and I walk by it whenever I roll over to Starbucks. That is one strong temptation…
Anyhow, I saw today that some yabbo got 13 TOC bids this year, thus setting a record. Impressive. But I’ve got to wonder, doesn’t this guy ever go to class? Then again, when was the last time the Panivore saw the inside of her own academic devoir? She’s not doing Lakeland tomorrow pretty much because she felt she needed one weekend off this year. That’s probably not an exaggeration. I mean, I never get a weekend off, but then again, I don’t debate, and I don’t grind up the competitive adrenalin that goes with the activity as the students do. And of course, I’ve got nothing better to do on the weekends, at least until golf season begins (although whether golf is better than debate is questionable). Come to think of it though, next weekend is in fact a weekend off for me. No debates, not nowhere, not no how. And it’s too early in the year (just) for golf. Two whole days of… whatever. Sounds really, really good!
We’re down to two entries at Lakeland this weekend. I really am beginning to feel the bite of small teamness. Next year, in the wake of the P and the P’s C's exits, it’s going to be pretty lonely if we don’t pick up a passel of plebes to replace them. I will certainly have no active seniors, for one thing. On the positive side, it gets me out of doing RRs, but on the negative side, I sort of like doing RRs, or at least hanging out at them. Can O’C handle the beans all alone during the Lexwegian event? I don’t know. All those questions about obscure Star Trek episodes and who won round 3 of the Ridge tournament in 2007 in room 204 are going to be pretty confounding to the assembled multitudes.
I am glad that I’m not struck by techlust over the iPad2. I was slow to embrace the iPad, but when I did, I fell in love, and I’d hate to have to upgrade so early in the game, or more likely piss and moan about not upgrading. I’m pretty sure that GarageBand will work on the original machine, and I want that a lot, and I really don’t care about having more non-camera cameras at my disposal (while I like having the iPhone camera in my pocket, my ultimate lenses are on my SLR), so I’m not going to get all het up about it. This could be a real problem for me. There’s an Apple Store in the mall right next door to the DJ, and I walk by it whenever I roll over to Starbucks. That is one strong temptation…
Anyhow, I saw today that some yabbo got 13 TOC bids this year, thus setting a record. Impressive. But I’ve got to wonder, doesn’t this guy ever go to class? Then again, when was the last time the Panivore saw the inside of her own academic devoir? She’s not doing Lakeland tomorrow pretty much because she felt she needed one weekend off this year. That’s probably not an exaggeration. I mean, I never get a weekend off, but then again, I don’t debate, and I don’t grind up the competitive adrenalin that goes with the activity as the students do. And of course, I’ve got nothing better to do on the weekends, at least until golf season begins (although whether golf is better than debate is questionable). Come to think of it though, next weekend is in fact a weekend off for me. No debates, not nowhere, not no how. And it’s too early in the year (just) for golf. Two whole days of… whatever. Sounds really, really good!
Problem solved for CBS
I realize this is not the place for this sort of thing, but it just occurred to me that CBS could solve everything by hiring Martin Sheen to replace Charlie Sheen in "Two and a Half Men." Just start the next episode with the title, "Some years later..."
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Get me Rewrite! Hold the Frenchie stuff!
I was writing up this thing about non-bid tournaments, and it really sucked, so I just erased it.
My point would have been that too many people don’t give enough attention to tournaments without bids. Pretty much every team has a bunch of people who need rounds but who are not bid-worthy, and a nicely run two-day tournament is probably the place they should be. I’m talking about your sophomores or lightly debated juniors who don’t have much of a chance at a serious bid event, but have a fighting chance elsewhere, for instance at Lakeland this week. In fact, there is about a tournament a month that has no bid, or at most a finals bid (which is a pretty exclusive bid out of the reach of most of the field), and I’m surprised that more people don’t break down the doors to get to these, especially those with large teams that aren’t getting rounds anywhere else. We did a lot of conscious removal of JV divisions around here at the colleges, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot of virtual JV possibilities that I think are actually better. You need to think outside the box. All your debaters need rounds. You need to find those rounds for them, otherwise as coach you are not doing your job.
The paragraph above says, in one paragraph, what I was incapable of articulating in five paragraphs. Sometimes you do have to throw away stuff and start over.
I also did that with Rippin’. As I said yesterday, I had written out a whole song and dance, and then I ripped it up and made the video, which was much more to the point, I think. I do now sort of expect the Rips to break into my house at night and steal a cat or two to avenge their honor, but I’ve got to believe that my history as the World’s Worst District Chair precedes me, and that there is already no love lost between us on their side. As I said, old news. Plus ca change, plus la meme chose, eh? Anyhow, this is the first time I've summarily put something over on the greatest hits without a second thought. I don't know about you, but it just breaks me up. I do so amuse myself...
My point would have been that too many people don’t give enough attention to tournaments without bids. Pretty much every team has a bunch of people who need rounds but who are not bid-worthy, and a nicely run two-day tournament is probably the place they should be. I’m talking about your sophomores or lightly debated juniors who don’t have much of a chance at a serious bid event, but have a fighting chance elsewhere, for instance at Lakeland this week. In fact, there is about a tournament a month that has no bid, or at most a finals bid (which is a pretty exclusive bid out of the reach of most of the field), and I’m surprised that more people don’t break down the doors to get to these, especially those with large teams that aren’t getting rounds anywhere else. We did a lot of conscious removal of JV divisions around here at the colleges, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot of virtual JV possibilities that I think are actually better. You need to think outside the box. All your debaters need rounds. You need to find those rounds for them, otherwise as coach you are not doing your job.
The paragraph above says, in one paragraph, what I was incapable of articulating in five paragraphs. Sometimes you do have to throw away stuff and start over.
I also did that with Rippin’. As I said yesterday, I had written out a whole song and dance, and then I ripped it up and made the video, which was much more to the point, I think. I do now sort of expect the Rips to break into my house at night and steal a cat or two to avenge their honor, but I’ve got to believe that my history as the World’s Worst District Chair precedes me, and that there is already no love lost between us on their side. As I said, old news. Plus ca change, plus la meme chose, eh? Anyhow, this is the first time I've summarily put something over on the greatest hits without a second thought. I don't know about you, but it just breaks me up. I do so amuse myself...
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Petitioning Rippin'
I was going to write out this whole screed, but I changed my mind. Who needs it? I offer this instead.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Blow it out!
The MHL Blowout was a rather remarkable event in many ways. More than anything it was a reminder that debate can be fun and serious at the same time. Too often people forget that, and things are taken so seriously and so all-the-fun-wrung-out-of-it that you wonder if in fact we are negotiating the end of life on the planet as we know it rather than an extracurricular high school activity. Lighten up, in other words. Why so glum? It’s high school debate. It gets you out of the house and meeting new people, it gets you thinking new ideas and it allows you to get some nice credentials for your resume. Years from now you will remember all the fun and forget all of the glum, so I advise you to make sure that there’s enough of the former in it to make up for the presence of any of the latter.
At the blowout, each round began with all the opponents drawing a power. This might be something like having an extra speech, your opponent having no prep time, or your judge being able to interject during the speeches (“I’m not buying it!”). You might be able to get a varsity debater to handle one of your rebuttal speeches, or get a debater or coach to sit with you and coach you through the round. There were numerous variations on these themes, and as each person drew a power, JV announced it to the assembled multitudes to great moaning and/or glee, depending on the power. He quite enjoyed his role as maitre d’ of the event, adding his own level of glee if the power was particularly poisonous. After all the powers had been drawn, everyone went off to their rounds, and a splendid time was had by all. We had powers for all the divisions, although adjusted for whether it was LD, PF or Policy. You might be able to detect that, in addition to adding some humor to the proceedings, there was an underlying educational benefit. Shouldn’t you be able to run a case without any prep? Or without any flowing? Or at least try it once in your life? You might fail, but you’ll learn why.
At the end, we managed demo rounds of LD and Pffft with bona fide stars (for instance, the Panivore handily managed to defeat the hipster K, whatever the hell that is). Policy, which ran much longer, as always, ran longer still with addition of the powers, so we couldn’t do a demo there, but that was all right. At the end of the day we all assembled at roughly the same time to give out awards, including a set that each team had designed for its own novices. Being awarded “Most likely to forget your case” or “Most likely to wear skintight jeans” or whatever seems a fitting end to the day. Let’s face it. Some novices never win nuttin’. They should at least get an award for effort. The award for “Least likely to show up for practice” was given in absentia, of course.
The blowout with its silliness immediately became a must-do-again event. Maybe next year we’ll call it the MHL Blowout Classic II, and O’C will start giving service awards. He wandered off early to slice pizza or something, so I can’t say I saw much of him Saturday. The divisions were fairly small and Kaz and I were able to handle everything on one machine. And then, home by 7:00. A good day, on all counts.
At the blowout, each round began with all the opponents drawing a power. This might be something like having an extra speech, your opponent having no prep time, or your judge being able to interject during the speeches (“I’m not buying it!”). You might be able to get a varsity debater to handle one of your rebuttal speeches, or get a debater or coach to sit with you and coach you through the round. There were numerous variations on these themes, and as each person drew a power, JV announced it to the assembled multitudes to great moaning and/or glee, depending on the power. He quite enjoyed his role as maitre d’ of the event, adding his own level of glee if the power was particularly poisonous. After all the powers had been drawn, everyone went off to their rounds, and a splendid time was had by all. We had powers for all the divisions, although adjusted for whether it was LD, PF or Policy. You might be able to detect that, in addition to adding some humor to the proceedings, there was an underlying educational benefit. Shouldn’t you be able to run a case without any prep? Or without any flowing? Or at least try it once in your life? You might fail, but you’ll learn why.
At the end, we managed demo rounds of LD and Pffft with bona fide stars (for instance, the Panivore handily managed to defeat the hipster K, whatever the hell that is). Policy, which ran much longer, as always, ran longer still with addition of the powers, so we couldn’t do a demo there, but that was all right. At the end of the day we all assembled at roughly the same time to give out awards, including a set that each team had designed for its own novices. Being awarded “Most likely to forget your case” or “Most likely to wear skintight jeans” or whatever seems a fitting end to the day. Let’s face it. Some novices never win nuttin’. They should at least get an award for effort. The award for “Least likely to show up for practice” was given in absentia, of course.
The blowout with its silliness immediately became a must-do-again event. Maybe next year we’ll call it the MHL Blowout Classic II, and O’C will start giving service awards. He wandered off early to slice pizza or something, so I can’t say I saw much of him Saturday. The divisions were fairly small and Kaz and I were able to handle everything on one machine. And then, home by 7:00. A good day, on all counts.
Friday, February 25, 2011
The ragtop blues
I failed to mention that Chavez also managed to ruin my life completely by showing me the video of David Hasselhof singing “Hooked on a Feeling.” I’ll never be able think of the phrase ooga chaka ooga ooga ooga chaka in quite the same way again. Not that I ever did, but that’s neither here nor there.
This weekend is the final MHL, which we’re referring to as the Blowout. We have a lot of ideas for making it memorable, but we haven’t pinned any of them down yet. I’ll report after the fact. One team did question whether the competition would be up to their excruciatingly high standards, to which we responded with fart noises, so that answered that.
I have made live the NY State District Tournament website on the Goy. I know. You’re waiting sooooo patiently for me to comment on this. I will. I promise you, I will, but probably without too much vigor. I’m fairly out of interest on the subject by now, and have little to offer that hasn’t been offered in the past. But I understand the needs of the VCA to hear the latest invective, and far be if for me to ignore that demand.
Tonight is poker, for the first time in ages. I have a slight cold, but nothing short of the ague or St. Vitus dance would keep me away. (Although, come to think of it, I haven’t heard the phrase St. Vitus dance since I was a kid. My parents were always talking about it, so perhaps it was more popular back when they were young and hopping about. Or maybe they were referring to my dubious terpsichorean skills, which are, admittedly, minimal at best. Whatever.) I feel that this game is the first sign of spring, for some reason, although I almost killed myself on the residual ice on my driveway this morning, polished to an almost invisible fare-thee-well by a driving rain during the night. I want to be roaming the streets without a coat. I want to be a flaneur sipping absinthe on the boulevard. I want to feel the warmth of the sun and to put the top down on my car (not that it’s actually a convertible) and drive around listening to Beach Boys hits (like, for instance, “The Warmth of the Sun”). I want to scoot around the links in a golf cart, thinking to myself that if I can just get the next shot to within a mile of the pin I might, for once, not run the risk of being expelled from the course for sucking beyond the pale. I want to eat gelato in the West Village.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
This weekend is the final MHL, which we’re referring to as the Blowout. We have a lot of ideas for making it memorable, but we haven’t pinned any of them down yet. I’ll report after the fact. One team did question whether the competition would be up to their excruciatingly high standards, to which we responded with fart noises, so that answered that.
I have made live the NY State District Tournament website on the Goy. I know. You’re waiting sooooo patiently for me to comment on this. I will. I promise you, I will, but probably without too much vigor. I’m fairly out of interest on the subject by now, and have little to offer that hasn’t been offered in the past. But I understand the needs of the VCA to hear the latest invective, and far be if for me to ignore that demand.
Tonight is poker, for the first time in ages. I have a slight cold, but nothing short of the ague or St. Vitus dance would keep me away. (Although, come to think of it, I haven’t heard the phrase St. Vitus dance since I was a kid. My parents were always talking about it, so perhaps it was more popular back when they were young and hopping about. Or maybe they were referring to my dubious terpsichorean skills, which are, admittedly, minimal at best. Whatever.) I feel that this game is the first sign of spring, for some reason, although I almost killed myself on the residual ice on my driveway this morning, polished to an almost invisible fare-thee-well by a driving rain during the night. I want to be roaming the streets without a coat. I want to be a flaneur sipping absinthe on the boulevard. I want to feel the warmth of the sun and to put the top down on my car (not that it’s actually a convertible) and drive around listening to Beach Boys hits (like, for instance, “The Warmth of the Sun”). I want to scoot around the links in a golf cart, thinking to myself that if I can just get the next shot to within a mile of the pin I might, for once, not run the risk of being expelled from the course for sucking beyond the pale. I want to eat gelato in the West Village.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Would you like bugs with that fodder?
A mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I now stand to testify that Mr. Chavez has already wasted his completely and may prove to be of no further use to mankind. During the usual Sporcle sessions in the tab room last weekend, Jonathan demonstrated not simply a good memory for Academy Awards, not simply an encyclopedic memory of Academy Awards, but rather an ability to rattle off obscure and complete data in such a way as to frighten ordinary mortals. At least it frightened me, and I’m as ordinary as they come. Thank God this data is of no practical use. If it were, Chavez would be certifiably dangerous.
Last night on TVFT we talked some more about award ceremonies, continuing CP’s and my conversation from the previous week and not venturing too far from my original position that they are usually a good and useful thing, but they need to be swiftly executed. Listen to the podcast if you’re a tournament director, and follow our prescriptions. Please. Your attendees will thank you for it. In keeping with the spirit of the discussion, it’s the shortest TVFT to date! (Of course, following the logic that the best TVFTs are the shortest ones, no TVFT would be the best of all!)
I spent some time over the last couple of days securing accommodations and transportation to various events including TOC, NDCA and NYSDCA. Tomorrow I will do likewise for CIA, FBI, FDR and CBGB; after that, I will be moving on to whole words. Let me tell you, some of these were easier than others. TOC? No way you can do the so-called tournament hotel, but I found something not far away that will save the Sailor treasury a couple of hundred bucks, so there. NYSDCA folks were nice, although the invitation directs you to a woman who has nothing to do with the actual reservations. I warned her to take her phone off the hook for a couple of weeks. As for Scranton, that was the best, with a working dedicated hotel reservation site. My problem is three people, one to a room. I’m hoping that O’C or someone will come through with some bed fodder to take up the slack.
Bed fodder? That sounds strangely…strange. “Hi, my name is Bruce, I’ll be your bed fodder for the weekend.” Yep. Definitely strange.
Last night on TVFT we talked some more about award ceremonies, continuing CP’s and my conversation from the previous week and not venturing too far from my original position that they are usually a good and useful thing, but they need to be swiftly executed. Listen to the podcast if you’re a tournament director, and follow our prescriptions. Please. Your attendees will thank you for it. In keeping with the spirit of the discussion, it’s the shortest TVFT to date! (Of course, following the logic that the best TVFTs are the shortest ones, no TVFT would be the best of all!)
I spent some time over the last couple of days securing accommodations and transportation to various events including TOC, NDCA and NYSDCA. Tomorrow I will do likewise for CIA, FBI, FDR and CBGB; after that, I will be moving on to whole words. Let me tell you, some of these were easier than others. TOC? No way you can do the so-called tournament hotel, but I found something not far away that will save the Sailor treasury a couple of hundred bucks, so there. NYSDCA folks were nice, although the invitation directs you to a woman who has nothing to do with the actual reservations. I warned her to take her phone off the hook for a couple of weeks. As for Scranton, that was the best, with a working dedicated hotel reservation site. My problem is three people, one to a room. I’m hoping that O’C or someone will come through with some bed fodder to take up the slack.
Bed fodder? That sounds strangely…strange. “Hi, my name is Bruce, I’ll be your bed fodder for the weekend.” Yep. Definitely strange.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
More Philadelphia cheese
Aside from occasionally braving the four winds to battle my way over to Starbucks, I didn’t leave the building much over the weekend. That whole food court in the basement thing, including the great crepes place, mitigates the need for much roaming about unless you absolutely want to do so. If it had remained warm, I might have felt otherwise, but those trips fueled more by a desire to pick up the Times than the need for coffee were more than enough. And yes, this last Saturday was indeed a tough puzzle. If I were a giver-upper, I would have, but I’m not, so I didn’t, and I solved it. But I’ve got a few scars from it, let me tell you.
One problem we had was that the printers that the Quakers provided did not speak fluent Mac, and although CP banged around in the guts for a while and got them to at least spew forth ink, I couldn’t print from Vegas Elvis out of TRPC for love nor money. So, it was create pdfs and port them over from the Dark Side and print them out of MacOS, which is a pain, but at least it worked. On the assets sheet, in hindsight I’m more than happy to have decided in advance not to schlep around Philadelphia with my traveling tab printer, what with the 800 stairs leading out of the trolley stations. A little of that would have gone a long way, or at least longer than I personally wanted to go.
While we were doing our bit, I was of course following the progress of my couple of Sailors who insisted that they were better off in Harvard. Unfortunately the P’s C did not complete his set of quals for TOC, but he made a valiant effort. The Panivore did take top speaker, which is nothing to sneeze at, but then again, my sole novice did likewise in her division at Penn. Not bad. I learned this week that said novice has no truck with Facebook or Twitter or any other of that few-nangled fom-toolery. I find it interesting that I apparently have on our team probably the very last social network holdout under the age of 40. Maybe we should start a pool for when she succumbs. There’s money to be made in this.
Speaking ofmoney awards, I guess I should acknowledge that the Qs saw fit to give yours truly a service award, which is a little embarrassing but it is a nice honor. Of course, I really am only in it for the money, the lack of which continues to disappoint me. Let me remind you: I run a clean tab room. But not for lack of trying. Feel free to drop off your bribes at any time. No contribution is too small. Really. Just don’t let Kaz see you, otherwise she’ll no doubt want a matching gift. As will CP, Chavez, JV and O’C. Hmmmm. Forget what I said about small contributions. We’ve got a lot of mouths to feed here. Big contributions only, please.
One problem we had was that the printers that the Quakers provided did not speak fluent Mac, and although CP banged around in the guts for a while and got them to at least spew forth ink, I couldn’t print from Vegas Elvis out of TRPC for love nor money. So, it was create pdfs and port them over from the Dark Side and print them out of MacOS, which is a pain, but at least it worked. On the assets sheet, in hindsight I’m more than happy to have decided in advance not to schlep around Philadelphia with my traveling tab printer, what with the 800 stairs leading out of the trolley stations. A little of that would have gone a long way, or at least longer than I personally wanted to go.
While we were doing our bit, I was of course following the progress of my couple of Sailors who insisted that they were better off in Harvard. Unfortunately the P’s C did not complete his set of quals for TOC, but he made a valiant effort. The Panivore did take top speaker, which is nothing to sneeze at, but then again, my sole novice did likewise in her division at Penn. Not bad. I learned this week that said novice has no truck with Facebook or Twitter or any other of that few-nangled fom-toolery. I find it interesting that I apparently have on our team probably the very last social network holdout under the age of 40. Maybe we should start a pool for when she succumbs. There’s money to be made in this.
Speaking of
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Notes from the City of Bro' Lovin'
The Philadelphia experience was excellent.
It started at the tournament hotel, where we were met with a level of welcome packetage beyond all previous experience. Aside from their actually getting all the reservations correct (mine was a bit screwy, with late addition and subtraction), they had a manila envelope for each room, in which were tournament info sheets, maps, trolley schedules and very specific instructions for using the trolley (“Go out front, turn left,” that sort of thing), not to mention a little packet of 16 tokens. According to the Quakers (that’s the Penn mascot, congruent with Ben F as the mascot for everything else in Philadelphia including the cheese steaks, the cream cheese, the mall, the dog walk, the water treatment plant, the drug dealers and the sports franchises), this was mostly done by the hotel, the Crowne Plaza on Market Street. Simply put, I want to have their baby.
I popped over to the school, a short ride away, and checked in, finding CP and, shortly thereafter, Kaz. We had a nice dinner and when I got back to my room I uploaded the tournament and was all ready to go. That Friday was the warm one, and the streets of Philadelphia were thronged with warm Pennsylvanians, which are apparently an unpredictable enough group that stores were shutting down out of fear of their eruption. None of this was around us, however, and only Kaz had encountered it as she drove about in her car obediently doing whatever her GPS told her. At some point it told her to trap me in the back seat, and I almost ended up spending the night in the valet parking before it was decided to set me free. I cannot explain this, and will not try. I will point out that not only was I held prisoner, but at some point CP held us up as he did some sort of random posting, costing us at least three precious minutes of my life which I will never get back, which is a lot more than it sounds when you add in all the complaining I did to CP about the three precious minutes of my life that I would never get back. Figure an hour or two, give or take. Still, I manfully went on, managed to get a good night sleep, and was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning.
Somewhere along the way we acquired a couple of Bronx Scientologists who were bunking with us for the weekend, and they and my novice and Kaz headed out Saturday a.m. on a blustery morning quite different from the preceding one. Not much you can do about that. The underground trolley got us where we were going, and we got down to business. There was some confusion about scheduling, in that I thought we were starting at nine (silly me, I had looked at the posted schedule) and CP thought we were starting at eight (silly CP, he had posted some other schedule somewhere else), but we got everything up before nine, and got accelerated as the day progressed, and we ended the 6 rounds of PF by nine o’clock thanks to a couple of single-flighted rounds, so no one was complaining about that. No one complained either about the digs for central HQ, given that it’s all comfy chairs with a superior and healthy food court in the basement.
The biggest problem, endemic to colleges it seems, was the loosey-goosey participation of the parli people in the judge pool. They’re good for PF, but their names changed with a regularity that was mind-boggling. The outset of every round was marked by a totally new slate of adjudicators. We didn’t have this problem in LD, where you really need people who know the activity, but we certainly did have it in PF and Speech. The Quakers have been apprised of the undesirability of this business, and will work it out with their parli partners for next year. I somehow managed to keep a relatively cool head for this, although I did lose it in the morning when coaches didn’t show up to judge the first break round. This is just not acceptable. There is an obligation that we all share, and when I’m there at the crack of dawn trying to get the round out and you’re home in bed eating madeleines and sipping jasmine tea, we are not going to have what you would call a meeting of the minds. Simply put, don’t do this if you expect me to treat you with professional courtesy, because you have forfeited your professional credentials. Genuine issues that arise are one thing, and often there are reasonable excuses, but absent that, it’s a no-brainer. Be there. Do your job. Fulfill your responsibilities. End of story.
But these were minor blips. Otherwise, the tournament ran as smooth as a goat, and we watched with glee as our cousins to the northeast lugged their way through turtledom while we rabbited to the finish line. If you were there instead of with us, I hope you can satisfactorily answer the question that this was a wiser choice for your team than joining us at a well-run and shorter event where all the profits go to support inner city debate. We’ll be back at the old stand again next year this time. I hope to see you there.
It started at the tournament hotel, where we were met with a level of welcome packetage beyond all previous experience. Aside from their actually getting all the reservations correct (mine was a bit screwy, with late addition and subtraction), they had a manila envelope for each room, in which were tournament info sheets, maps, trolley schedules and very specific instructions for using the trolley (“Go out front, turn left,” that sort of thing), not to mention a little packet of 16 tokens. According to the Quakers (that’s the Penn mascot, congruent with Ben F as the mascot for everything else in Philadelphia including the cheese steaks, the cream cheese, the mall, the dog walk, the water treatment plant, the drug dealers and the sports franchises), this was mostly done by the hotel, the Crowne Plaza on Market Street. Simply put, I want to have their baby.
I popped over to the school, a short ride away, and checked in, finding CP and, shortly thereafter, Kaz. We had a nice dinner and when I got back to my room I uploaded the tournament and was all ready to go. That Friday was the warm one, and the streets of Philadelphia were thronged with warm Pennsylvanians, which are apparently an unpredictable enough group that stores were shutting down out of fear of their eruption. None of this was around us, however, and only Kaz had encountered it as she drove about in her car obediently doing whatever her GPS told her. At some point it told her to trap me in the back seat, and I almost ended up spending the night in the valet parking before it was decided to set me free. I cannot explain this, and will not try. I will point out that not only was I held prisoner, but at some point CP held us up as he did some sort of random posting, costing us at least three precious minutes of my life which I will never get back, which is a lot more than it sounds when you add in all the complaining I did to CP about the three precious minutes of my life that I would never get back. Figure an hour or two, give or take. Still, I manfully went on, managed to get a good night sleep, and was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning.
Somewhere along the way we acquired a couple of Bronx Scientologists who were bunking with us for the weekend, and they and my novice and Kaz headed out Saturday a.m. on a blustery morning quite different from the preceding one. Not much you can do about that. The underground trolley got us where we were going, and we got down to business. There was some confusion about scheduling, in that I thought we were starting at nine (silly me, I had looked at the posted schedule) and CP thought we were starting at eight (silly CP, he had posted some other schedule somewhere else), but we got everything up before nine, and got accelerated as the day progressed, and we ended the 6 rounds of PF by nine o’clock thanks to a couple of single-flighted rounds, so no one was complaining about that. No one complained either about the digs for central HQ, given that it’s all comfy chairs with a superior and healthy food court in the basement.
The biggest problem, endemic to colleges it seems, was the loosey-goosey participation of the parli people in the judge pool. They’re good for PF, but their names changed with a regularity that was mind-boggling. The outset of every round was marked by a totally new slate of adjudicators. We didn’t have this problem in LD, where you really need people who know the activity, but we certainly did have it in PF and Speech. The Quakers have been apprised of the undesirability of this business, and will work it out with their parli partners for next year. I somehow managed to keep a relatively cool head for this, although I did lose it in the morning when coaches didn’t show up to judge the first break round. This is just not acceptable. There is an obligation that we all share, and when I’m there at the crack of dawn trying to get the round out and you’re home in bed eating madeleines and sipping jasmine tea, we are not going to have what you would call a meeting of the minds. Simply put, don’t do this if you expect me to treat you with professional courtesy, because you have forfeited your professional credentials. Genuine issues that arise are one thing, and often there are reasonable excuses, but absent that, it’s a no-brainer. Be there. Do your job. Fulfill your responsibilities. End of story.
But these were minor blips. Otherwise, the tournament ran as smooth as a goat, and we watched with glee as our cousins to the northeast lugged their way through turtledom while we rabbited to the finish line. If you were there instead of with us, I hope you can satisfactorily answer the question that this was a wiser choice for your team than joining us at a well-run and shorter event where all the profits go to support inner city debate. We’ll be back at the old stand again next year this time. I hope to see you there.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
He said, he said
I broke a lawyer’s heart at the DJ today by telling him that Linda Ronstadt is about 40 years older now than she was 40 years ago. If you have any lawyers’ hearts you want broken, send them to me and I handle it for you.
Speaking of the DJ, yesterday I encountered an actual human being who referred to herself in the third person. This is extremely odd, but when you add into it that the person is Canadian, maybe less so. One positive thing about eliminating the first person from your speech, of course, is that verb conjugation becomes so much easier. Also finding the weirdest person in any particular group of speakers, but I don’t think either of these is her motivation. But, what can I say? Or as she might put it, what can he say? Eh?
In my latest crash of insomniac nights I’ve been playing with a writing project idea that I’ll probably unfold shortly. You might not like it, buthe does I do, and it might be a worthy experiment. For that matter, I have a finished writing project that I was unable to publish that I’ll probably self-publish in a little while. Sometimes I wonder where I get the spare time from, but then again, I’ve never watched even a single episode of American Idol, so think of all the hours I’ve accumulated for useful output.
This weekend is UPenn, which is small on the LD side and humongous on the Pffft side. We’re bringing a raft of Speecho-American Sailors and one novice LDer. For the life of me I can’t understand why people would prefer Harvard, unless mesmerized by the bid chase or in relatively decent position to break in whatever activity. As the VCA knows, my team officially swore off Cambridge the year that it broke the budget bank, and while various of my mavericks have seen fit to expose themselves to it (as far as I can recall with little reward), it has just not been what I would call forensics-efficient. If you have a small, building team, doesn’t it make sense to put them into appropriate competition? I guess you can argue that they’ll see all these good people, and that might be true, but at Boston hotel prices? Na’ah. Doesn’t work for me. I do appreciate that they have been doing something about the randomness of the LD event, however, bringing in members of the Traveling Tabroom to coordinate with them. If it’s going to be a zoo, at least have all the pachyderms in one enclosure and all the marsupials in another. I guess that the more time passes, the more I agree with Bietz that all colleges should have small bid levels (if any). Probably five percent of the people there are really chasing a bid; the rest are visiting Harvard, an understandable desire. Oh, well. We’ve talked about this before. There’s no point in beating it to death.
So I leave tomorrow after school. I should be there in time to help CP at registration. Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are.
Speaking of the DJ, yesterday I encountered an actual human being who referred to herself in the third person. This is extremely odd, but when you add into it that the person is Canadian, maybe less so. One positive thing about eliminating the first person from your speech, of course, is that verb conjugation becomes so much easier. Also finding the weirdest person in any particular group of speakers, but I don’t think either of these is her motivation. But, what can I say? Or as she might put it, what can he say? Eh?
In my latest crash of insomniac nights I’ve been playing with a writing project idea that I’ll probably unfold shortly. You might not like it, but
This weekend is UPenn, which is small on the LD side and humongous on the Pffft side. We’re bringing a raft of Speecho-American Sailors and one novice LDer. For the life of me I can’t understand why people would prefer Harvard, unless mesmerized by the bid chase or in relatively decent position to break in whatever activity. As the VCA knows, my team officially swore off Cambridge the year that it broke the budget bank, and while various of my mavericks have seen fit to expose themselves to it (as far as I can recall with little reward), it has just not been what I would call forensics-efficient. If you have a small, building team, doesn’t it make sense to put them into appropriate competition? I guess you can argue that they’ll see all these good people, and that might be true, but at Boston hotel prices? Na’ah. Doesn’t work for me. I do appreciate that they have been doing something about the randomness of the LD event, however, bringing in members of the Traveling Tabroom to coordinate with them. If it’s going to be a zoo, at least have all the pachyderms in one enclosure and all the marsupials in another. I guess that the more time passes, the more I agree with Bietz that all colleges should have small bid levels (if any). Probably five percent of the people there are really chasing a bid; the rest are visiting Harvard, an understandable desire. Oh, well. We’ve talked about this before. There’s no point in beating it to death.
So I leave tomorrow after school. I should be there in time to help CP at registration. Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The revolution is at hand
You might have seen the comments to yesterday's post. I’ve thought about the fact that it takes longer to MJP than not, as CP points out, but at a smaller tournament, with an appropriate percentage, why not? We certainly did it at Ridge a couple of years ago with little disruption and absolutely no experience. As we get better at it, it won’t ever be absolutely instantaneous, but I think that most folks would accept a little longer break between rounds in return for mutual judging. And yes, of course you could put all the strikes in simply as 6s in MJP, but that just dangles the old carrot. Give ‘em the whole thing, I say. We’ve been moving toward it philosophically, so why not just go all the way? We’ll get so good at it quickly enough that we’ll never remember when we didn’t do it.
And, let’s face it, the Panivore has given it her approval. Do you want to argue with her about it?
Bietz also mention this. I read it, but found it unenlightening unless you have all the time in the world and you don't mind allowing for half hour judge critiques. It's nice to know that someone's thinking about standardizing the running of tournaments, though. I guess they're talking about colleges and not high schools. Pre-pairing and releasing the night before teams show up? In the high school universe? Can I send you the names of a few coaches who can't tell you the names of their teams halfway through the tournament, much less the day before?
Anyhow, speaking of the Panivore, I've run out of things to say (actually, I did this around 1999), so at last night's meeting the P took over, explaining weighing to our vast horde of one, plus the People's Champion. 
The results—the photo of the rapt audience on the right—speak for themselves. I found it interesting, but I ended up taking pictures because, well, I can do the math.
Seeing the size of our team, you might want to compare it to the one below, taken at a recent Big Bronx LD meeting.
Sometimes you've just got to envy the size of other programs...
And, let’s face it, the Panivore has given it her approval. Do you want to argue with her about it?
Bietz also mention this. I read it, but found it unenlightening unless you have all the time in the world and you don't mind allowing for half hour judge critiques. It's nice to know that someone's thinking about standardizing the running of tournaments, though. I guess they're talking about colleges and not high schools. Pre-pairing and releasing the night before teams show up? In the high school universe? Can I send you the names of a few coaches who can't tell you the names of their teams halfway through the tournament, much less the day before?
Anyhow, speaking of the Panivore, I've run out of things to say (actually, I did this around 1999), so at last night's meeting the P took over, explaining weighing to our vast horde of one, plus the People's Champion. The results—the photo of the rapt audience on the right—speak for themselves. I found it interesting, but I ended up taking pictures because, well, I can do the math.Seeing the size of our team, you might want to compare it to the one below, taken at a recent Big Bronx LD meeting.
Sometimes you've just got to envy the size of other programs...
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Let's do it
So here’s what I’m wondering: Why not just do MJP all the time?
At the last few tournaments I tabbed, I went with the predictable community rankings of the usual suspects. I mean, let’s face it. Everybody in the pool inevitably shows up week after week, and there are very few of them we don’t know. Almost by definition, someone new is someone inexperienced, which is fine (provided they’ve been given a clue or two by their teams, which may or may not happen, but that’s another issue altogether), and everyone else is the same old same old. There are people who are always highly ranked, except by You-Know-Who, who inevitably strikes them, and there are people who are always struck, except by, again, You-Know-Who. (Come to think of it, there are often a couple of YKWs in the field, making things something of a challenge.) Everybody wants to be judged by judges who allow them to perform at what they perceive is their best. I think it’s silly to assume that everybody wants to be judged by people who will always vote for them, because that just doesn’t happen. If you’re in a tough round with a good opponent and a good judge who usually picks you up, chances are that the judge also usually picks up your good opponent. You don’t select your judges for the their mythical “guaranteed” ballots, but for their legendary powers of adjudication, which are two different things entirely.
But here’s my point. While, granted, MJP at a smallish tournament is something of a mug’s game from a tab perspective, if you handle the numbers correctly, it will allow for a decent number of strikes, and conflicts, plus it puts the ranking entirely in the hands of the debaters rather than either tab or the community at large. At those smallish tournaments you might have to specify 40% or 50% 1s, for instance, but at least they’re your 1s and not somebody else’s. And too, you might have a few more 2-2 rounds than you might prefer, but then again, it’s mutual. Where’s the down side of this?
I would point out that I’m not entirely benevolent in this. Giving individual strikes means that I’ve got to enter them all, one at a time, and I’ll make a mistake or two, no doubt, although lately I’ve gone over to striking more rather than fewer when there’s any doubt. But even if this is conquered technologically and the strikes can go into TRPC automatically, is it so bad to offer MJP, period?
Talk me out of this, please, or else let’s just do it.
At the last few tournaments I tabbed, I went with the predictable community rankings of the usual suspects. I mean, let’s face it. Everybody in the pool inevitably shows up week after week, and there are very few of them we don’t know. Almost by definition, someone new is someone inexperienced, which is fine (provided they’ve been given a clue or two by their teams, which may or may not happen, but that’s another issue altogether), and everyone else is the same old same old. There are people who are always highly ranked, except by You-Know-Who, who inevitably strikes them, and there are people who are always struck, except by, again, You-Know-Who. (Come to think of it, there are often a couple of YKWs in the field, making things something of a challenge.) Everybody wants to be judged by judges who allow them to perform at what they perceive is their best. I think it’s silly to assume that everybody wants to be judged by people who will always vote for them, because that just doesn’t happen. If you’re in a tough round with a good opponent and a good judge who usually picks you up, chances are that the judge also usually picks up your good opponent. You don’t select your judges for the their mythical “guaranteed” ballots, but for their legendary powers of adjudication, which are two different things entirely.
But here’s my point. While, granted, MJP at a smallish tournament is something of a mug’s game from a tab perspective, if you handle the numbers correctly, it will allow for a decent number of strikes, and conflicts, plus it puts the ranking entirely in the hands of the debaters rather than either tab or the community at large. At those smallish tournaments you might have to specify 40% or 50% 1s, for instance, but at least they’re your 1s and not somebody else’s. And too, you might have a few more 2-2 rounds than you might prefer, but then again, it’s mutual. Where’s the down side of this?
I would point out that I’m not entirely benevolent in this. Giving individual strikes means that I’ve got to enter them all, one at a time, and I’ll make a mistake or two, no doubt, although lately I’ve gone over to striking more rather than fewer when there’s any doubt. But even if this is conquered technologically and the strikes can go into TRPC automatically, is it so bad to offer MJP, period?
Talk me out of this, please, or else let’s just do it.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Another Scarsdale slips into the mists of time
I slept about two minutes last night, and I feel like death eating a fig newton.
Anyhow, Scarsdale is in the can, so to speak. It’s a wrap. It’s history. Etc. This is where varsity get to judge the novices in their off rounds, but for some reason, a lot of them don’t opt in. It’s not just a question of covering their entries, but participating in the tournament in a different way. As I said last week, there’s lots of debaters who never judge, and I think they should. Maybe they’re afraid that it will affect their performance at the tournament, but a lot of the breakers were in both the front and back of the rooms over the weekend which belies that. Maybe they really do feel that it is only about covering their entries, although Scarsdale has enough good student judging from its own team to dig the Panama Canal. Go figure. They’re missing a good bet, in any case.
From the tabbing perspective, it’s relatively nonstop but not terribly difficult. It’s a single flight every hour of the alternating divisions. Which means that the next round is always ready when you need it. Pffft, on the other hand, was captive to the whims of its judges, and I wisely, albeit not maliciously, passed that over to CP and O’C while Kaz and I stuck with LD. In the Pffft world, the judges come and judges go, talking of Michelangelo, especially from schools that have no real coach (i.e., either no coach, or no one worthy of the designation). Tracking them down is tough, but then again, the food in the judges’ lounges is superior, and you can usually find the culprits there tossing samosas down their pieholes, if you can get them to own up to being Central HS Judge #3, which is how they’re entered into the system. More shenanigans in Pffft than in LD, in other words, and I wasn’t a part of it. Ah, the cleverness of me.
Yesterday I sent out the first info about the district tournament to the interested parties. What a great way to spend a Sunday; I had forgotten how much busy-work there is in a district event. There is, of course, much of a story here, and you’ll get it eventually, but at some point Saturday we were looking at our district and shaking our heads over our red light status because we seem to have gotten our numbers where they were supposed to be after previous negotiations with the Evil Rippin’ Empire. But that’s a long story, and we’re not ready for that yet. One subject, more or less, at a time…
If there were any theme to the Scarsdale weekend, it was contained in the words, No mango left behind. That, and Get off my lawn. No wonder I feel like death eating a fig newton.
Anyhow, Scarsdale is in the can, so to speak. It’s a wrap. It’s history. Etc. This is where varsity get to judge the novices in their off rounds, but for some reason, a lot of them don’t opt in. It’s not just a question of covering their entries, but participating in the tournament in a different way. As I said last week, there’s lots of debaters who never judge, and I think they should. Maybe they’re afraid that it will affect their performance at the tournament, but a lot of the breakers were in both the front and back of the rooms over the weekend which belies that. Maybe they really do feel that it is only about covering their entries, although Scarsdale has enough good student judging from its own team to dig the Panama Canal. Go figure. They’re missing a good bet, in any case.
From the tabbing perspective, it’s relatively nonstop but not terribly difficult. It’s a single flight every hour of the alternating divisions. Which means that the next round is always ready when you need it. Pffft, on the other hand, was captive to the whims of its judges, and I wisely, albeit not maliciously, passed that over to CP and O’C while Kaz and I stuck with LD. In the Pffft world, the judges come and judges go, talking of Michelangelo, especially from schools that have no real coach (i.e., either no coach, or no one worthy of the designation). Tracking them down is tough, but then again, the food in the judges’ lounges is superior, and you can usually find the culprits there tossing samosas down their pieholes, if you can get them to own up to being Central HS Judge #3, which is how they’re entered into the system. More shenanigans in Pffft than in LD, in other words, and I wasn’t a part of it. Ah, the cleverness of me.
Yesterday I sent out the first info about the district tournament to the interested parties. What a great way to spend a Sunday; I had forgotten how much busy-work there is in a district event. There is, of course, much of a story here, and you’ll get it eventually, but at some point Saturday we were looking at our district and shaking our heads over our red light status because we seem to have gotten our numbers where they were supposed to be after previous negotiations with the Evil Rippin’ Empire. But that’s a long story, and we’re not ready for that yet. One subject, more or less, at a time…
If there were any theme to the Scarsdale weekend, it was contained in the words, No mango left behind. That, and Get off my lawn. No wonder I feel like death eating a fig newton.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
I am not a thief
I think we ended up with crossed wires last night, so only CP and I recorded the TVFT episode, but record it we did, so there you are. It continues what I was saying yesterday about tournaments and award ceremonies. We’ll probably revisit it with O’C next week. How can you talk about awards and not include Mr. Award himself?
This week is Scarsdale, and surprisingly enough, there are no blizzards, earthquakes or plagues of locusts predicted. This is the one where the varsity judges the novices in alternating single flights, which is something of a challenge in tab, but nothing terrible. It just requires not overworking the people who also have to debate. But it’s a good thing. At Newark last week I put a varsity kid who had been eliminated in to judge some novices, and he said that it was the first time he had ever judged (albeit through no fault of his own). And he’s a senior. I strongly believe that judging is important in rounding out the debater’s experience, if not the debater’s skill. A round is different when you have to adjudicate it. And it is the first step in giving back to the activity. If you’re getting something out of the activity and not giving back, you should try to fix that. If it’s impractical now, come back and judge when you’re in college. You don’t have to do it week after week, but when the traveling debate circus puts its tent up in your area, pop by for a while. They’ll probably even pay you for it!
I’ve been reading the new Autobiography of Mark Twain, which weighs just slightly more than the average Extemper. I ran across this quote last night: “A parenthesis is evidence that the man who uses it does not know how to write English or is too indolent to take the trouble to do it; a parenthesis usually throws the emphasis upon the wrong word…a man who will wantonly use a parenthesis will steal. For these reasons I am unfriendly to the parenthesis.” I point this out because, day after day, pound for pound, there are more parentheses in this blog than there are nauseous parents at a Justin Bieber concert. I maintain that my use of parens is far from wanton, but the VCA will have to be the judge of that. (By the way, I just found out that Justin Bieber is Canadian. Figures.)
(Speaking of which, that “don’t do well if your name is hard to pronounce” bit from yesterday, which met with some disdain, is a line I’ve used about a million times at opening ceremonies, and it always gets a medium snicker. Not that I’m defending it objectively, but you can’t argue with success.)
One high point of Newark was sitting around with TSWAS (there’s an oldie for you: The Superhero Without Any Superpowers, AKA Craig) watching YouTube videos. Raul Esparza singing “There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute,” Astaire dancing “Quarter to Three,” the stateroom scene in “A Night at the Opera.” I love sitting around talking about movies with Craig, because he’s one of the few people I know who seriously thinks about movies, which is a subject near and dear to me. Of course, he wants to make movies as a vocation, but he tells me that others who have the same desire don’t necessarily share his love of the medium. Odd. But then again, in my DJ life, I’ve known people who want to get into publishing who aren’t necessarily readers. Hard to imagine, but true. Go figure.
Oh, yeah. As a matter of course and with no discussion, we posted all the Newark ballots online. I recall not too long ago when this was perceived as the end of life on the planet as we know it, and no doubt made everyone involved in the business subject to immediate arrest by the Debate Police. All of our open-tabbishness seems to have made this reaction rather silly. They’re ballots from a debate round. Yes, occasionally someone misspells a word or writes something dumb, but that’s no different from real life. If you want to maintain your self-respect in this situation, just say that the RFD is “the aff was more persuasive.” Your judging cred will be secure for all time. Trust me on that.
This week is Scarsdale, and surprisingly enough, there are no blizzards, earthquakes or plagues of locusts predicted. This is the one where the varsity judges the novices in alternating single flights, which is something of a challenge in tab, but nothing terrible. It just requires not overworking the people who also have to debate. But it’s a good thing. At Newark last week I put a varsity kid who had been eliminated in to judge some novices, and he said that it was the first time he had ever judged (albeit through no fault of his own). And he’s a senior. I strongly believe that judging is important in rounding out the debater’s experience, if not the debater’s skill. A round is different when you have to adjudicate it. And it is the first step in giving back to the activity. If you’re getting something out of the activity and not giving back, you should try to fix that. If it’s impractical now, come back and judge when you’re in college. You don’t have to do it week after week, but when the traveling debate circus puts its tent up in your area, pop by for a while. They’ll probably even pay you for it!
I’ve been reading the new Autobiography of Mark Twain, which weighs just slightly more than the average Extemper. I ran across this quote last night: “A parenthesis is evidence that the man who uses it does not know how to write English or is too indolent to take the trouble to do it; a parenthesis usually throws the emphasis upon the wrong word…a man who will wantonly use a parenthesis will steal. For these reasons I am unfriendly to the parenthesis.” I point this out because, day after day, pound for pound, there are more parentheses in this blog than there are nauseous parents at a Justin Bieber concert. I maintain that my use of parens is far from wanton, but the VCA will have to be the judge of that. (By the way, I just found out that Justin Bieber is Canadian. Figures.)
(Speaking of which, that “don’t do well if your name is hard to pronounce” bit from yesterday, which met with some disdain, is a line I’ve used about a million times at opening ceremonies, and it always gets a medium snicker. Not that I’m defending it objectively, but you can’t argue with success.)
One high point of Newark was sitting around with TSWAS (there’s an oldie for you: The Superhero Without Any Superpowers, AKA Craig) watching YouTube videos. Raul Esparza singing “There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute,” Astaire dancing “Quarter to Three,” the stateroom scene in “A Night at the Opera.” I love sitting around talking about movies with Craig, because he’s one of the few people I know who seriously thinks about movies, which is a subject near and dear to me. Of course, he wants to make movies as a vocation, but he tells me that others who have the same desire don’t necessarily share his love of the medium. Odd. But then again, in my DJ life, I’ve known people who want to get into publishing who aren’t necessarily readers. Hard to imagine, but true. Go figure.
Oh, yeah. As a matter of course and with no discussion, we posted all the Newark ballots online. I recall not too long ago when this was perceived as the end of life on the planet as we know it, and no doubt made everyone involved in the business subject to immediate arrest by the Debate Police. All of our open-tabbishness seems to have made this reaction rather silly. They’re ballots from a debate round. Yes, occasionally someone misspells a word or writes something dumb, but that’s no different from real life. If you want to maintain your self-respect in this situation, just say that the RFD is “the aff was more persuasive.” Your judging cred will be secure for all time. Trust me on that.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
I would like to thank the members of the Academy...
One thing that seems to have gone by the wayside at tournaments these days is the award ceremony. Except, of course, at Big Bronx, where next year I understand it will be three days of nothing but award ceremonies, plus the display of a video of a round from last year at the very end just to keep up appearances.
Seriously, I have very mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I strongly believe that in a competitive event like ours, it is good to have a celebration of effort and performance. It’s more than just taking tin: it’s the recognition by your peers. The announcement of the name and the applause—even the zippy one clap—is meaningful. Walking up to the stage and shaking a hand and getting something tangible is meaningful. Walking back and getting a pat on the back from your teammates is meaningful. I don’t want these things to go away, and I have a special cold spot in my heart for teams that disappear from a tournament as soon as they can, slinking off into the night, so to speak, especially when their trip home is eleven minutes. Okay, you didn’t win anything, but is that a reason for you not to acknowledge those who did?
On the other hand, it is the responsibility of tournaments to manage their award ceremonies intelligently. Despite everything I’ve said above, I do not like sitting around in an auditorium wasting an hour that could otherwise be spent either debating or going home. O’C gets around much of this by having his service awards at the opening ceremony, when we’re still preparing the tournament, thus not taking away time from anything else. That’s smart. Then there’s specific acknowledgments for each division at a reasonable time for that division, mostly just the speaker awards at a point when everyone’s still around but no one is itching to be elsewhere. That’s also smart, and that’s the key. The awards need to be when everyone is both around and not wishing they weren’t.
I propose the following guidelines:
All tournaments should have ceremonies at which awards are given out.
At a high school invitational, these awards should be at around the quarterfinal point, which would keep people hanging around, and then, if they left, the tournament would not fall apart without them. This is very civilized.
Tournaments have to accept that people might leave before an award ceremony. It’s not prison, after all.
By the same token, people who leave have to accept that they’re not going to get their ballots. These people who are leaving are not following protocol, and with so much going on during a tournament, they can’t expect to get special treatment. It’s their problem, not the tournament’s. Bring stamps and a big envelope. Tournament directors: note this in your invite.
Ceremonies need not be for every event at once. In other words, never keep people sitting around waiting for awards, not theirs and especially not someone else’s. You can do PF now and LD later, and vice versa.
It’s okay to run finals during the awards ceremony, in aid of not keeping people sitting around waiting.
Full names should be announced at all times, and not initials. I am not Hendrick Hudson JM, I am Jim Menick from Hendrick Hudson.
I don’t need to know the ballot count from each and every round. Especially if it’s a rout, do we need to broadcast it throughout the auditorium that so and so lost on a 5-0?
One clap is enough. Move people along. Just because we are being traditional doesn’t mean we have to be pokey.
Don’t thank everyone in the home state of the tournament for making it happen. Thank the parents as a group, the students as a group, the tab room as a group, and move on. This takes one minute. The more people you thank, the less the audience will give a crap. Use the standard of CatNats and NatNats as an example. They thank everyone under the sun for at least an hour, boring everyone so much that by the time the actual awards start, almost everyone in the audience is engaged in texting ribald comments in real time on every person who has just been thanked, or else playing Angry Birds, You Don’t Know Jack or Minesweeper (this being the only instance in anyone’s life so dull that even Minesweeper is preferable). If you really want to thank somebody, do it in person. Give them a bottle of wine or an Amazon book certificate, whichever is more appropriate. But do it privately.
Don’t give us a big song and dance about something that only matters to you. We don’t care. If it’s funny (e.g., the history of the Bump traveling [fruit] cup), it’s worth three minutes, otherwise write it up in your invitation. An award ceremony is about giving awards. If you have a special award named after someone, that is fine, but simply announce it as the Special Award Named After Someone, explain why in a sentence, and then announce the winner.
A participant’s walk to the podium to accept an award should not last longer than an AC. Move your butt. Meanwhile, the award announcer should not wait for this slow-butted person to come to the stage, but should keep moving. One clap. Get that rhythm going. If necessary, film JV at one of his ceremonies and do what he does.
If your name is hard to pronounce, try not to win an award. It just slows things down. (Okay, maybe this one isn’t such a good idea.)
Shoot for twenty minutes tops. Send people out happy. Leave ‘em wanting more. In other words, the fundamental rules of entertainment apply. The less fun it is, the less likely people will stay around for the next one.
Seriously, I have very mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I strongly believe that in a competitive event like ours, it is good to have a celebration of effort and performance. It’s more than just taking tin: it’s the recognition by your peers. The announcement of the name and the applause—even the zippy one clap—is meaningful. Walking up to the stage and shaking a hand and getting something tangible is meaningful. Walking back and getting a pat on the back from your teammates is meaningful. I don’t want these things to go away, and I have a special cold spot in my heart for teams that disappear from a tournament as soon as they can, slinking off into the night, so to speak, especially when their trip home is eleven minutes. Okay, you didn’t win anything, but is that a reason for you not to acknowledge those who did?
On the other hand, it is the responsibility of tournaments to manage their award ceremonies intelligently. Despite everything I’ve said above, I do not like sitting around in an auditorium wasting an hour that could otherwise be spent either debating or going home. O’C gets around much of this by having his service awards at the opening ceremony, when we’re still preparing the tournament, thus not taking away time from anything else. That’s smart. Then there’s specific acknowledgments for each division at a reasonable time for that division, mostly just the speaker awards at a point when everyone’s still around but no one is itching to be elsewhere. That’s also smart, and that’s the key. The awards need to be when everyone is both around and not wishing they weren’t.
I propose the following guidelines:
All tournaments should have ceremonies at which awards are given out.
At a high school invitational, these awards should be at around the quarterfinal point, which would keep people hanging around, and then, if they left, the tournament would not fall apart without them. This is very civilized.
Tournaments have to accept that people might leave before an award ceremony. It’s not prison, after all.
By the same token, people who leave have to accept that they’re not going to get their ballots. These people who are leaving are not following protocol, and with so much going on during a tournament, they can’t expect to get special treatment. It’s their problem, not the tournament’s. Bring stamps and a big envelope. Tournament directors: note this in your invite.
Ceremonies need not be for every event at once. In other words, never keep people sitting around waiting for awards, not theirs and especially not someone else’s. You can do PF now and LD later, and vice versa.
It’s okay to run finals during the awards ceremony, in aid of not keeping people sitting around waiting.
Full names should be announced at all times, and not initials. I am not Hendrick Hudson JM, I am Jim Menick from Hendrick Hudson.
I don’t need to know the ballot count from each and every round. Especially if it’s a rout, do we need to broadcast it throughout the auditorium that so and so lost on a 5-0?
One clap is enough. Move people along. Just because we are being traditional doesn’t mean we have to be pokey.
Don’t thank everyone in the home state of the tournament for making it happen. Thank the parents as a group, the students as a group, the tab room as a group, and move on. This takes one minute. The more people you thank, the less the audience will give a crap. Use the standard of CatNats and NatNats as an example. They thank everyone under the sun for at least an hour, boring everyone so much that by the time the actual awards start, almost everyone in the audience is engaged in texting ribald comments in real time on every person who has just been thanked, or else playing Angry Birds, You Don’t Know Jack or Minesweeper (this being the only instance in anyone’s life so dull that even Minesweeper is preferable). If you really want to thank somebody, do it in person. Give them a bottle of wine or an Amazon book certificate, whichever is more appropriate. But do it privately.
Don’t give us a big song and dance about something that only matters to you. We don’t care. If it’s funny (e.g., the history of the Bump traveling [fruit] cup), it’s worth three minutes, otherwise write it up in your invitation. An award ceremony is about giving awards. If you have a special award named after someone, that is fine, but simply announce it as the Special Award Named After Someone, explain why in a sentence, and then announce the winner.
A participant’s walk to the podium to accept an award should not last longer than an AC. Move your butt. Meanwhile, the award announcer should not wait for this slow-butted person to come to the stage, but should keep moving. One clap. Get that rhythm going. If necessary, film JV at one of his ceremonies and do what he does.
If your name is hard to pronounce, try not to win an award. It just slows things down. (Okay, maybe this one isn’t such a good idea.)
Shoot for twenty minutes tops. Send people out happy. Leave ‘em wanting more. In other words, the fundamental rules of entertainment apply. The less fun it is, the less likely people will stay around for the next one.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Menick the rail-splitter
Ryan makes good points in reply to what I said yesterday, especially the size of neg cases. I should clarify my feelings about standards, though. I don’t mean simple as in simplistic and vague, because that’s certainly no good. I just meant not so complicated that it takes me a paragraph of flowing to write down and when I have to think about it as a weighing mechanism I abandon the field. In fact, one of the rounds I judged had exactly the sort of simplistic standard that was so easily shot down that it might as well have not existed. So we’re probably on the same page at least there.
Meanwhile, the Friday morning of the RR I mostly spent setting up the regular tournament. Normally this isn’t all that big a deal, but we allowed 5 individual strikes, which meant a lot of entering data for me and O’C. Not hard, just time consuming. I’m beginning to believe that, first, individual strikes are the way to go as the more positive benefit to debaters when compared to the broader-based team strikes, and second, that 5 strikes in a pool of 40 is absolutely invisible in the tabbing process. Set as a percentage, maybe you could strike as much as 15% of a pool and have no harm in the tabbing process. Of course, some judges are wildly unpopular and struck by practically the entire field, but the program assigns the hardest-to-place judges first, which means that their unpopularity isn’t really a problem. I mean, nobody is 100% struck. And if they were, you’d be encouraging them to take up another hobby anyhow. Number One way to get struck? Have Mr. or Mrs. as your first name. (Coaches, please. Can’t you ask your parents what their names are?)
I should point out, by the way, that there are no turns in Newark. Not in the rounds, but on the streets. We stayed out at the tournament hotel by the airport, and coming and going both, you could see your destination, just over there, a mere left or right turn away, but lo and behold, there was always a sign saying, “Don’t even think about turning, you yabbo.” Every time we needed to get off the road we were on, we spent a month or two exploring the jungles and deserts and caves and mountains of Newark rather than just turning left or right. This is, I think, the city elders’ way of promoting tourism. Since people don’t necessarily come to Newark as a vacation spot, whenever people do stumble into town they are forced to explore every inch of it whether they want to or not. There is no way around this. So it goes.
Thanks to aggressive judge acquisition by the Newark folks, the VLD part of the tournament was single-flighted. This is both good and bad. It’s good in that things move along, but bad in that literally every judge gets used just about every time. In the random rounds, you get what you get. Once there’s a bubble, As go to the down 2s, and by the time you get out of the problem areas, it’s good luck Charlie. The Mr. and Mrs. judges get to see a lot of undefeated debaters for a couple of rounds, until we can move them over to he defeated debaters. This is good insofar as the best debaters have no choice but to adapt, and bad for about the same reason, that the best debaters, all prepped for a killer round against one another, are forced to tone it down a bit. Again, so it goes.
Overall the weekend went well from our perspective. I kept having to move away from the machine in the VLD breaks because of having my own horse in the race, I can’t exactly hand-pick judges from the ever-diminishing pool for my own debater, but O’C was up to the task. We do have a pattern of assigning judges in breaks that gets us past this problem most of the time, going up and down the rounds with the judges as they are offered, but when you get into quarters and further, and you have a lot of possibilities, this doesn’t make sense. Which is why we don’t have just one school in the tab room at invitationals. Not that we’d be all that corrupt (well, maybe you would be, but not me) but to allay even the appearance of corruption. I want people to think of me as the Honest Abe of Tab. Honest Jim.
Whatever.
Meanwhile, the Friday morning of the RR I mostly spent setting up the regular tournament. Normally this isn’t all that big a deal, but we allowed 5 individual strikes, which meant a lot of entering data for me and O’C. Not hard, just time consuming. I’m beginning to believe that, first, individual strikes are the way to go as the more positive benefit to debaters when compared to the broader-based team strikes, and second, that 5 strikes in a pool of 40 is absolutely invisible in the tabbing process. Set as a percentage, maybe you could strike as much as 15% of a pool and have no harm in the tabbing process. Of course, some judges are wildly unpopular and struck by practically the entire field, but the program assigns the hardest-to-place judges first, which means that their unpopularity isn’t really a problem. I mean, nobody is 100% struck. And if they were, you’d be encouraging them to take up another hobby anyhow. Number One way to get struck? Have Mr. or Mrs. as your first name. (Coaches, please. Can’t you ask your parents what their names are?)
I should point out, by the way, that there are no turns in Newark. Not in the rounds, but on the streets. We stayed out at the tournament hotel by the airport, and coming and going both, you could see your destination, just over there, a mere left or right turn away, but lo and behold, there was always a sign saying, “Don’t even think about turning, you yabbo.” Every time we needed to get off the road we were on, we spent a month or two exploring the jungles and deserts and caves and mountains of Newark rather than just turning left or right. This is, I think, the city elders’ way of promoting tourism. Since people don’t necessarily come to Newark as a vacation spot, whenever people do stumble into town they are forced to explore every inch of it whether they want to or not. There is no way around this. So it goes.
Thanks to aggressive judge acquisition by the Newark folks, the VLD part of the tournament was single-flighted. This is both good and bad. It’s good in that things move along, but bad in that literally every judge gets used just about every time. In the random rounds, you get what you get. Once there’s a bubble, As go to the down 2s, and by the time you get out of the problem areas, it’s good luck Charlie. The Mr. and Mrs. judges get to see a lot of undefeated debaters for a couple of rounds, until we can move them over to he defeated debaters. This is good insofar as the best debaters have no choice but to adapt, and bad for about the same reason, that the best debaters, all prepped for a killer round against one another, are forced to tone it down a bit. Again, so it goes.
Overall the weekend went well from our perspective. I kept having to move away from the machine in the VLD breaks because of having my own horse in the race, I can’t exactly hand-pick judges from the ever-diminishing pool for my own debater, but O’C was up to the task. We do have a pattern of assigning judges in breaks that gets us past this problem most of the time, going up and down the rounds with the judges as they are offered, but when you get into quarters and further, and you have a lot of possibilities, this doesn’t make sense. Which is why we don’t have just one school in the tab room at invitationals. Not that we’d be all that corrupt (well, maybe you would be, but not me) but to allay even the appearance of corruption. I want people to think of me as the Honest Abe of Tab. Honest Jim.
Whatever.
Why I'm enjoying The Eyre Affair
"I don't believe in coincidences, Miss Next."
"Neither do I. Now that's a coincidence."
(That may not be the exact quote, but you get the drift.)
"Neither do I. Now that's a coincidence."
(That may not be the exact quote, but you get the drift.)
Monday, February 07, 2011
Your judge paradigm is WHAT?
Now that was a long weekend.
It started Thursday with the first day of the Round Robin. For once, I wasn’t tabbing, although I had helped set up the pairings, something at which I am now rather proficient. Newark had a ton o’ judges, so that part of it went quite well. I showed Carlos how to look for judges who had judged on one side to judge folks on the other side, and he was golden. Then, I judged a few rounds.
It’s funny, judging after you haven’t judged for a while. Needless to say, people have their ideas of what I’ll like or not like, and they do slow down, I think (inability to handle speed is a factor of practice, not preference), but all of that adaptation stuff is a good thing in a public speaking activity. A good debater has to pick up all ballots, not just the ones he or she would prefer to pick up. Anyhow, you fall back into the flow of judging pretty quick (and the flow of flowing, for that matter). One of the big reasons I don’t like to judge nowadays is, admittedly, that it poops me out. Back-to-back double flights requires a level of attention that I find elusive during those mid-afternoons when normally I’d be at the DJ doing my best to keep my eyes open. You can’t close your eyes when you’re judging. You need to be alert to everything, or at least as alert as possible. And as I say, that much alertness poops me out, and I’m lucky that I’m pretty good at tabbing so people will let me do that instead. To tell you the truth, from what I hear I’m not the only person in the universe whose alertness is curtailed after judging a hundred and twenty rounds in the last 72 hours. Human beings get tired. Debaters who put a lot of pressure on judges late in the day should think twice about that.
Needless to say, or maybe needed to say to some people, LD hasn’t changed all that much lately, at least from what I saw. But there are some things that I don’t like that have gotten worse. First, there’s the non-existent negative. A value, three independent reasons for some standard that epitomizes the concept of cockamamie, followed by a once sentence blip, does not constitute an advocacy. I’ve been decrying this one way or the other for eons now. Negatives with a strong offense have the opportunity to debate on their own ground. Negatives with virtually no in-case offense have no choice but to debate on the affirmative ground. That negatives win from this strategic weak start demonstrates to me—if everything we’ve said on TVFT about neg bias is true—that there’s a lot of judges out there who need to move away from the flow pad and think for a minute. If it turns out that it’s fashionable to demand nothing of a negative but a demurral from the affirmative, then no wonder negs win a lot. If you don’t have a position, and all you’re held to is how well you attacked the other guy’s position, then we are absolutely hogtying the poor affs. Neg presumption in LD went out with white disco suits, but a lot of judges apparently haven’t gotten the memo yet.
I also wonder why people want the most complex standard possible rather than the simplest standard possible. If the standard is simple to understand, it is simple to use as a weighing mechanism. If it’s complex, then weighing becomes more complex, if it’s possible at all. You can run very complex cases that are, nonetheless, simple for the judge to understand. KISS as one of the top tools of good case-writing seems to me to still hold true. The best debaters run very complex stuff that nevertheless is easy to understand. I have nothing against complexity. But I shudder at obfuscatory complexity: it’s like novices always coming up with the most bizarre, complex ways of looking at simple things rather than trying to find the bright line that informs complex things and drawing from that simple conclusions. It’s a novice way of thinking.
I did have some discussion with assorted Scientologists over the weekend about dumb-ass stuff. Most judges, when they hear dumb-ass stuff, which is rather often, are just wishing the other debater would say, “You know, that is one powerful bunch of dumb-ass stuff.” But debaters hardly ever do call out dumb-ass stuff, even when the dumb-assedness is so manifest it stands in the room with a torch and a top hat. Calling out dumb-assedness would probably win people a lot of rounds, if they could just summon up the nerve to try it.
It started Thursday with the first day of the Round Robin. For once, I wasn’t tabbing, although I had helped set up the pairings, something at which I am now rather proficient. Newark had a ton o’ judges, so that part of it went quite well. I showed Carlos how to look for judges who had judged on one side to judge folks on the other side, and he was golden. Then, I judged a few rounds.
It’s funny, judging after you haven’t judged for a while. Needless to say, people have their ideas of what I’ll like or not like, and they do slow down, I think (inability to handle speed is a factor of practice, not preference), but all of that adaptation stuff is a good thing in a public speaking activity. A good debater has to pick up all ballots, not just the ones he or she would prefer to pick up. Anyhow, you fall back into the flow of judging pretty quick (and the flow of flowing, for that matter). One of the big reasons I don’t like to judge nowadays is, admittedly, that it poops me out. Back-to-back double flights requires a level of attention that I find elusive during those mid-afternoons when normally I’d be at the DJ doing my best to keep my eyes open. You can’t close your eyes when you’re judging. You need to be alert to everything, or at least as alert as possible. And as I say, that much alertness poops me out, and I’m lucky that I’m pretty good at tabbing so people will let me do that instead. To tell you the truth, from what I hear I’m not the only person in the universe whose alertness is curtailed after judging a hundred and twenty rounds in the last 72 hours. Human beings get tired. Debaters who put a lot of pressure on judges late in the day should think twice about that.
Needless to say, or maybe needed to say to some people, LD hasn’t changed all that much lately, at least from what I saw. But there are some things that I don’t like that have gotten worse. First, there’s the non-existent negative. A value, three independent reasons for some standard that epitomizes the concept of cockamamie, followed by a once sentence blip, does not constitute an advocacy. I’ve been decrying this one way or the other for eons now. Negatives with a strong offense have the opportunity to debate on their own ground. Negatives with virtually no in-case offense have no choice but to debate on the affirmative ground. That negatives win from this strategic weak start demonstrates to me—if everything we’ve said on TVFT about neg bias is true—that there’s a lot of judges out there who need to move away from the flow pad and think for a minute. If it turns out that it’s fashionable to demand nothing of a negative but a demurral from the affirmative, then no wonder negs win a lot. If you don’t have a position, and all you’re held to is how well you attacked the other guy’s position, then we are absolutely hogtying the poor affs. Neg presumption in LD went out with white disco suits, but a lot of judges apparently haven’t gotten the memo yet.
I also wonder why people want the most complex standard possible rather than the simplest standard possible. If the standard is simple to understand, it is simple to use as a weighing mechanism. If it’s complex, then weighing becomes more complex, if it’s possible at all. You can run very complex cases that are, nonetheless, simple for the judge to understand. KISS as one of the top tools of good case-writing seems to me to still hold true. The best debaters run very complex stuff that nevertheless is easy to understand. I have nothing against complexity. But I shudder at obfuscatory complexity: it’s like novices always coming up with the most bizarre, complex ways of looking at simple things rather than trying to find the bright line that informs complex things and drawing from that simple conclusions. It’s a novice way of thinking.
I did have some discussion with assorted Scientologists over the weekend about dumb-ass stuff. Most judges, when they hear dumb-ass stuff, which is rather often, are just wishing the other debater would say, “You know, that is one powerful bunch of dumb-ass stuff.” But debaters hardly ever do call out dumb-ass stuff, even when the dumb-assedness is so manifest it stands in the room with a torch and a top hat. Calling out dumb-assedness would probably win people a lot of rounds, if they could just summon up the nerve to try it.
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