Gem of Harlem debriefing

What else happened during the Gem of Harlem? Other than MJP, that is?

For those of us in the Traveling Tabroom Circus, the Gem is one of the main events of the season. CP organizes his minions and we all obediently do what he tells us to do, and as a result, we pull off a tournament with many, many divisions, in many, many buildings, with many, many students. Anyone who has ever been to a college tournament that has imploded knows what a major feat not imploding can be. In the pre-CP days, imploding college tournaments were more the rule than the exception. Not so anymore. At least not the ones under his command.

JV and I had the campus to ourselves Friday night for two rounds, plus what La Coin was doing with novice and Pffft, which were broken out from varsity. Saturday we moved our division over to something called “The School,” which demonstrates a considerable lack of creativity on the part of the naming committee, but there you are. This was, yes, a school, a rabbit warren of a place built for grammar school sized bodies, but it didn’t take too long to get things sorted out. Fifteen minutes, to be precise, in that we were supposed to launch at 9 and had all the ballots out at 9:15. (Note to prospective runners of tournaments: always show up early, just in case. Note to college people: you’ve got to show up early too, just this one day a year—it won’t kill you.) There was no food allowed in most places in the building, which meant that the Gemmites were smuggling in the bagels for the judges, past the Peanut-Free-Zone placards. A renegade package of Oreos was, I assure you, much prized. Judges were attacking us left and right (to protest if they were overworked, to wonder why they had gotten up in the morning if they weren’t). Even though I strongly support giving people rounds off, the way to get them is not by whining to me about how overworked you are. Everyone is overworked. We all get wet when it rains. Stop whining! Hiding doesn’t work all that well either. JV can find a judge at 1000 yards with nothing but an ear trumpet and a BB gun. When all was said and done we lost about half an hour or so of schedule, which was not terrible, and which meant there was plenty of time for one and all to wonder off for a nice dinner. As did, I assure you, the Traveling Tabroom Circus.

Some other random notes. First, no one ever wants to hear you play the piano, so please don’t, even if you’re good, but you’re probably not. If you’re thinking “Fur Elise,” trust me, you’re definitely not. Second, don’t assume that everyone over the age of 21 can provide you with directions to anywhere on the face of the earth. When people who know me and know that I don’t live at the G of H came up and asked me where some random stuff was, the temptation to tell them to go out, turn right and keep going until old age sets in was, I assure you, quite strong. Third, please don’t send me your registration changes for tournaments that don’t have Bump in their name. Why do people think I’m interested in their changes? Why do they ignore the instructions on the invitation? Fourth, when I say that there will be announcements on @DebateTab that might answer some of your questions (like, where is “The School”?), why don’t you follow @DebateTab? Would you prefer to wander around the Upper West Side like the Spanish explorers seeking the Seven Cities of Gold and never finding them and having to resort instead to killing all the natives? I didn’t tweet much this weekend, but I did tweet time and location, including where The School was when I found it myself at the crack of Saturday’s dawn. Let’s see. Your excuse was lack of a cell phone? I don’t think so. Fifth, if you want to leave early, please don’t assume that any of us want to drop everything we’re doing during break rounds to wave palms at you as you make your exit. Ask someone else to pick up your ballots. Or, for once in your brutish life, have the courtesy to stay for an entire award ceremony. Yes, if you’re flying down to Rio, I understand, but I really don’t care. And if you’re hastening back to 112th Street from 114th Street to be the first one home, I promise you that your behavior is unacceptable, and I actually do care that you, as a coach, are demonstrating poor behavior in front of your students. Sit down, shut up and applaud your fellow competitors. You would want the same from us if you were doing well, wouldn’t you? Sixth, the answer to, “Did anyone find a [blank]?” is directly proportional to the value of the [blank]. An iPhone? A MacBook Pro? The Holy Grail? Unlikely. A tortoiseshell button? A Kleenex? Yep, right here. Eighth, that skunky smell is definitely not a skunk, but if it helps those around you believe that you've got one foot in the grave and therefore they treat you as extra brittle, just in case, I say go for it. You're only as young as everyone thinks you are.

And so, another one bites the dust. Onward this weekend to an MHL at Brooklyn Tech, a brand new venue for us. I just hope we don’t get lost and end up having to resort to killing all the natives. For those of you going to Atlanta, have fun. Wear your keys proudly. Try not to remember that it’s only a high school debate tournament…