The VCA knows well that I am a fan of what I call Classic TRPC, the pre-2003 version (N.B., not the Mac version) that is about as stable as [insert humorous Gibraltarian metaphor]. Granted that it can’t do everything that the newer version can do, most notably the printing of ballots, but I’ve run everything from events with divisions of a handful of people to the forensic armies of Yale, and at this point, there isn’t much that can happen at a tournament that I don’t know how to handle with that software. This is simply a factor of experience, as compared to wisdom: I’ve been doing this long enough now that if I were not able to handle pretty much everything that can happen at a tournament, I should be reevaluating my tendency to hang out in tab rooms every weekend. For that matter, the software is seductively simple, new or old version, and if everything goes peachy, and there’s a lot of people, and they all show up and keep showing up, and nothing happens other than a lot of debates, any damned fool can do it. This illusion of simplicity does indeed attract any damned fool, which is why there are often mishaps in tab: it’s not as easy as it looks, and in the real world, people all don’t show up or keep showing up and amazing things happen that you weren’t expecting. But again, one can muddle through these with a little care. When all is said and done, an understanding of what, exactly, is supposed to happen in pairings is absolutely essential, regardless of what software you’re running, because sooner or later the software is going to poop out on you, at least in small contests. This always happens at our CFL Grands in March, where I manage to get half of one round paired automatically, and the rest is done on index cards. It happened at Li’l Lex this Saturday as well, in both the novice and JV divisions. You click on automatic pairing, and the screen goes back to the main menu. You do it again, and the same thing happens. You sigh, and you print out contestant cards, and you do the pairing by hand. The reason it won’t pair automatically are that there is a combination of side-restraints and pull-ups that are simply unforeseen in TRPC’s philosophy. Some things you just can’t do, unless you do them by hand. You can decide that it is better to ignore side restraints if it prevents the 0-3 from debating the 3-0, for instance. Anyhow, you lay out all the cards in order in the brackets, by side, and do your best. Pull-ups are done blind, by two people, to prevent any hint of bias; needless to say, regardless of whether you’re laying out cards or clicking the keyboard, at any point one could do the odd manipulation that would theoretically put one’s own debaters in a better position, either running their preferred side, or in front of a favored judge, which is why all tabbing should be a two-person operation at all times. Frankly, I trust all the tabbers I know, but there’s no reason why people out on the floor ought to trust us, so building in a bias protection makes them feel better, and it helps minimize errors in tab, so it’s inherently a good thing. In any case, I would strongly recommend this to anyone planning to run a tournament, to wit, make sure you have a couple of people who understand pairing in the tab room. Secondly, if you plan on running a lot of tournaments, learn pairing for yourself, both manually and automatically. But never, under any circumstances, tab a tournament of which you are the tournament director. Tournament direction includes all sorts of problem-solving far removed from tab room concerns. Getting tied up in the latter will allow you to botch up the former, or vice versa. Don’t go off thinking you know what you’re doing unless you really do know what you’re doing. The down side of screwing up is that it is amazingly public, and affects an awful lot of people who are wondering when the damned schematics are going to be coming out. Having screwed up myself a few times, and learned from my mistakes, believe me when I say I speak from experience.
I failed to mention previously the great literary salon we conducted at the Yangtze Friday night. I ended up at the Plebe table; we broke down into two groups because of our size, and the grizzled veterans went to one side and the newly spawned to the other. While I have already mentioned the general breakdown of civilization insofar as the usual attempts to eat Jello with chopsticks and an abundance of crab shells surrounding the odd novice, I left out the worst part of all, where everyone complained about Charles Dickens. I didn’t get it. The complaint was about the problem of finding the thematic subtexts in David Copperfield. Considering that DC, one of my favorite books which I’ve read numerous times, is one of the easiest, most up-front books ever written, in a way I didn’t blame the bairns for their suffering at being asked to look for the wrong things in the wrong place. I mean, aside from the personal connection of the story to Dickens’s own life, you couldn’t ask for a more straightforward batch of storytelling. Take a look at all that bling on Miss Murdstone, for instance. This is about as obscure, and about as funny, as a Robin Williams routine. As always nowadays, students seem to be forced to navigate through the great books, and the great reading experiences, in such a way as to detest the journey, thus spoiling them on the idea for all time. Of course, on the bright side, at least they weren’t reading ATOTC, the least Dickensian work in his oeuvre, albeit the shortest, which is why it’s always assigned. The man was a rambler, for Pete’s sake. Enjoy the rambling.
On a note of personal loss, I will point out that the CoasterRadio podcasts have come to the end. Sigh. This was fun theme park stuff done at just the right level of enthusiasm sans nerdiness. The guys that did it were professional broadcasters, and fun personalities. They will, no doubt, come up with something else eventually, but I’ll miss this one. Sigh, sigh, sigh. My addition to the castopshere last night of yet another Nostrum will, no doubt, do nothing to alleviate the suffering.
And finally, if you’re looking for some way to pass the time over the coming weekend, I recommend Iron Monkey, a fine Hong Kong film presented by the annoyingly ubiquitous Quentin Tarrantino (who does, nonetheless, do an interesting interview on the disk). The most curious thing about the film is determining what language it’s in. No matter which spoken language you choose from the menu, the lip movements never match the sound. I ultimately opted for Chinese, which if not synched at least seemed to make some visceral sense. Not that it matters all that much, though, because who watches this kind of movie for the nuances of the screenplay? Anyhow, trust me. You’ll digest your turkey all that much better Thursday if you segue from the dinner table to the rec room to watch this film.
P.S. You really don't want to know what Dartmouthians look like...
1 comment:
Congradulations jimie, you made honorable mention in the newsletter to home. Keep up the good work!!!
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