In which we Tigger

These college tournaments do go on…

The Tigger kicks off with registration at 2 on Friday, with the first round scheduled for 5. Sheryl and I parked ourselves at a table where we got to, A) greet old friends and acquaintances as they arrived, and B) tell people who didn’t have a clue what they were doing to either go ask someone else or listen to Sheryl Kazsplain to them how tournaments were invented during the Zachary Taylor administration, etc. Etc. Etc. I’m tempted to buy her a Scowling Menick mask to wear at future events like this. The one I wear works like a charm.

The big problem with college tournaments is, of course, their attractiveness to folks beyond the normal range of attendees. The people showing up at Ridge High School this coming weekend will, with the exception of maybe one or two PF parents who got suckered in, know what they are doing. Kaz tries to help laypersons in her way, and I admit trying to help them in mine. What I do is send out wonderfully brilliant literature explaining everything they need to know so that they will be prepared in advance. There are two problems with that. The people who are most in need of this information either don’t read the emails, or don’t understand the information when they do read it. My authorial skills apparently don’t bridge the ESL gap, which doesn’t bode well for the poor schmegeggies these undocumented aliens are going to be judging over the course of the weekend. I’m no supporter of Trump, but if he were to suggest barring non-English speaking folks from forensics tournaments, I might at least raise an eyebrow. We could even get Mexico to pay for it. Yeah, I know. I only speak English, and my ignorance of other languages is shameful. But then again, I’m not trying to judge debate rounds conducted entirely in any of those languages. We’re not just talking accents here. I long ago came up with the reply about  my own Hen Hud team, when someone would complain about this one excellent judge I had, “Uh, fella, she’s been speaking English longer than you have.” But this isn’t that.

Hence another reason why I’m wary of independent travelers.

Anyhow, the biggest mistake we made during the tournament was not hiding the tab room in the nearest locked fallout shelter. Because we were right in the line of sight, we fielded question after question about PF, to which the answer was, We’re not the PF tab. Where was said PF tab? I don't know. I couldn't find them either. Meanwhile, we had one person move in to write ballots because she couldn’t figure out how to use the wifi and could only connect to Kaz’s tethered smartphone. That person’s own phone? A flipping flip phone! And you thought flip phones were a thing of the past. Silly you.

The tournament was the usual. The LD pool wasn’t as strong as we would have liked, partly because the Tiggers don’t have many ex-LDers at the school at the moment. But we did our best, and didn’t screw up anything. In fact, somehow—and I know this doesn’t make sense—we had to run a double-flighted run-off because we couldn’t scrape together good enough panels otherwise, but then immediately thereafter were able to do quite good panels for a single-flighted doubles round that was even larger. Go figure.

Anyhow, another one has bit the dust. Onward.

Friday Arts on Saturday

No cuts, The Stills-Young Band — Apparently the old Buffalo/CSN colleagues were on again as a duo for a while in the 70s, but not much came of it. The album is mostly of their moany-groany sides. Nothing really sticks out. Not terrible, not very lively, and not worth going back to.

I’m Only Sleeping, Lobo — No, not Los Lobos. This is some guy who does quite an interesting Beatle cover, a rare animal. I have no idea how this came up for me to audit. I’ll listen to more of him.

Warm Love, Hard Nose the Highway, Van Morrison — A pretty quiet album for Van the Man, but I’ve always liked this song.

Keepin’ Me Up Nights, Asleep at the Wheel, Keepin’ Me Up Nights — Most of AATW falls a little too much into Texas Swing to make the playlist, but I really like them, and the odd swinger never hurt anyone.

Screw You & Whenever You’re Ready, Elton John, Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player — Not surprising to members of the VCA, no doubt, but I’m not a big pop fan, and John often walks on that side of the road. But at times he gets off a good one, and some of his pop stuff is fun too.

New York Mining Disaster 1941, You Should be Dancing & Stayin’ Alive, BeeGees, Greatest Hits compilation — Catholic Charlie likes three things: Elvis, the BeeGees and Genesis. I like some Elvis, and after listening to one sappy ballad after another on their greatest hits collection, I found I like these three Brothers Gibb songs. Genesis remains to be seen.

Ooby Dooby (Roy Orbison), Matchbox (Carl Perkins), High School Confidential (J. L. Lewis) — From some random oldies collection. Nice little fillers, all.

I Want You to Want Me, Cheap Trick, In Color — The "Live at Budokan" version is the one that sticks in the brain, but this is the first shot. Not bad.

No cuts from Geoff Muldaur, Is Having A Wonderful Time — Muldaur seems to be trying to bust genre. He doesn’t. This is enough of a stinker that one feels that enough of this guy is enough. He’s no Maria.

No cuts from McCartney, Red Rose Speedway —Paul on the light side, mostly. Nothing much memorable (except My Love, about which I’m tempted to write something snide but I’m relatively ambivalent about it, aside from not caring if I ever hear it again). Still, Paul McCartney is Paul McCartney. He is due respect.

No cuts from Riders in the Sky, Horse Opera — I love the Riders. Great harmonies, great humor. But, well, it really is pure cowboy music, and there’s enough yodeling on the playlist already.

In which we take a breather

There’s this magical moment in the run-up to a tournament. It occurs a couple of hours after fees are frozen. That is the point where everyone does indeed have their registrations in order, and you’ve cleaned up any loose ends. The waitlist is as cleared as it’s ever going to get, the judge obligations have been checked (although that will be done again) to make sure nobody’s trying to pull a fast one (or, more likely, a dumb one), the judges missing paradigms have been noted and warned, the setup in tabroom has been combed yet again, and then there’s nothing much to do but think about the next tournament.

Yes, Virginia, there is a next tournament. The Gem of Harlem is open, and the Ben Franklin Statue Around Every Corner opens on 12/1, as does Baby Bump. The Regis Christmas Chlassic (AKA the Kristmas Klassic, AKA the Xmas Xic) is open. And there’s always Bigle X to ponder during the free moments. So there’s stuff to do while doing nothing on the Tiggers.

Friday morning Kaz and I will head down to Joisey, arriving around lunch time. We’ll have a nice meal, and then mosey over to the building where they’ll be holding registration. That will be the last opportunity to go over everything. We’ll probably do an early pairing in VLD to beat the rush, what with obligations and MJP. And then we’ll blast Round 1, and the games will begin.

What fun, eh?