Some tournaments are easier than others, especially
tournaments that have been around for a while and that are fairly predictable.
The Gem of Harlem is this sort of tournament. The same people show up every
year, pretty much, and the same stuff happens. (Although this does ignore that last year we
were knocked off the calendar by a blizzard, and somehow managed to recover
almost completely a month or so later.) The thing is, Columbia is what it is,
everyone knows what it is, and it unfolds the way you expect it to. Last night
I cleared the TBAs, and this morning I cleared most of the waitlists. The
people expecting to come are the ones who always expect to come, and they will
come, and there you are.
That is mostly the way the activity plays out, at least at
some level. Say what you will about bid tournaments, and God knows that I am
not behind the door what it comes to criticizing some of them, not to mention
their raison d’etre, at least they are predictable. The same tournaments occur
every year on the same weekends with the same people running them and the same
schools attending, and this sort of regularity makes it possible for people to
plan their calendars absent any sanctioning body, as with, say, the school
football team. We do worry, though, when there is any seismic activity. Usually
the tremors are at the periphery of one’s vision. The regular tournaments
remain regular but there is often confusion at the edges. The present spectral
state of the MHL reflects that. The Paginator wants to get something going
again, and I expect (and hope) that he will. Realistically this ought to
represent about half of what any school around here is doing every month,
although the lure of the $ircuit seems to blind a lot of people to the true
purpose of debate education. I met with Jonathan A over the break, and we
talked about the fact that he now teaches debate to 7th graders. It’s not about
the competition for them, it’s about the education. On the one hand, strong
competitors in varsity debate—kids who travel and take home trophies and
whatnot—are a great lure for the younger kids, but the action is in spreading
the benefits of the activity to those younger kids, not acquisition of yet
another trophy. Jonathan doesn’t need another trophy. Most coaches don’t need
another trophy. But the trophies send a message to the community that results
in kids wanting to debate and schools continuing to pay for it. I’ve said this
a million times, quoting Sodikow who no doubt was not the first to utter it,
but competition in debate is merely a means to an end. If we could do this
without competition, it would be great. It would be cheaper, and we’d avoid all
the hassles of weekends and traveling and team management and the like, and just
concentrate on the gestalt of debate education. (Of course, some of that other
stuff is educational too, but you get my drift.)
Anyhow, I thoroughly enjoy working through the complicated
tournaments, although as I say, most of the time it’s just a case of doing it
again. Penn is the antidote to that this year. New weekend, new activities,
lots of new problems like no rooms and lots of people waiting for slots because
the new weekend suddenly makes the tournament more attractive. Of course, there
were also lots of people who hated the idea of the new weekend, but I’m going
to chance a guess that when all is said and done, it’s going to work out fine.
I certainly hope so. Still, it’s fun working through it, because it’s different
and a bit of a challenge. I mean, you try adjusting a waitlist when you don’t
know how many slots you have. We can’t really have rounds at Starbucks, more’s
the pity.
Oh well. Life goes on. This weekend I’ve got nuthin’. Then
we dig in. Excelsior!
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