In which we tell Jeeves that we do not wish to be disturbed

Working on the little Byram Hills tournament next week—it’s free, it’s online, it’s posted on tabroom, and you’ve got until Tuesday if you’re interested—has hammered home something that has been hotly discussed by the NDCA TDs, to wit, the impact of time zones.

The thing is, theoretically anyone on the planet can debate at an online tournament because, well, unless you’re blocked by some totalitarian government (I’m looking at you, USA), you can sign up and there you are. As a general rule, most IRL debate tournaments draw from their own regions for obvious reasons, but some tournaments can make the claim to having a national draw, and again IRL, people have traditionally flown into them. This is especially true of the Ivies, where a sizeable proportion of the field is there for the college visit, but also of tournaments with a quarters bid or better in something. As a general rule, the attractive tournaments in the northeast draw big numbers from Florida, plus some Texans and Californians. It’s those Californians that are the problem, if we don’t pay attention to what we’re doing.

The one thing everyone seems to agree on is that virtual tournaments are very demanding in their own unique way. Sitting at a computer, either as a judge or competitor, tends to wear people out. The TD universe has quickly come to a general agreement that 4 rounds a day is enough in the CX world, or 4 double flights in LD and PF. Maybe 5 single flights if you’ve got the judging. Zoom Fatigue, or whatever you want to call it, is only one part of the deal. The other is location. If you assume that every participant at your tournament has all their own modern equipment, and an isolated environment for their videoing, and complete control of their at-home schedules, then A) you have a lot of freedom in creating your schedule, and B) you have no idea of who actually attends debate tournaments, not to mention that you’ve forgotten why we’re having these virtual tournaments in the first place. Families are at home—the whole family. Start from there and use your imagination.

(I did like that a lot of people on our local CFL call yesterday were talking about using their schools for participation spaces when the season actually starts. I've already talked about that a lot. It can help eliminate all sorts of—but not literally all—barriers to entry.)

The Byram Hills tournament was to some extent predicated originally on the participation of Californians. Golden Staters, therefore, are intrinsic to its running. The time in Malibu is now 7:35 a.m. The time in my kitchen in 10:35 a.m. So you can see the problem. For me to start a round at 8:00 a.m., I have to base my schedule on Pacific time. If I give 3 hours to each double flight, which is reasonable, that means 8, 11, 2, 5 for the prescribed four rounds. If you’re on the beach in Malibu, that is. On the other hand, if you’re at home in Queens with Ma and Pa and your brother Darryl and your other Brother Darryl and Granma Joad and cousin Orville, your rounds are at 11, 2, 5, and 8. That eight o’clock round might be something of a problem, as it is in competition with whatever Ma and Pa and your brother Darryl and your other Brother Darryl and Granma Joad and cousin Orville want to do at eight o’clock. Netflix anyone? 

“It’s eight o’clock. Do you know where your bandwidth is?”

When push comes to shove, I don’t think anyone will be adjusting their schedules to make them attractive to opposite coasters. It offers little to anyone, given that there are plenty of tournaments within a time zone or two of everyone all the time, so no one has to get put out and everyone can have plenty of geographic diversity without having to put anyone at a disadvantage. And let’s face it. For most debaters, debating at home at night is a disadvantage, and that doesn’t even begin to take into consideration judging. (“Hey, Mom. Step away from ‘Tiger King.’ You’ve got a PF round to judge.”)

Before the TDs started confabbing, Brian M created schedules that would cover every contingency, including four time zones. They’re great. But what they didn’t cover was where those rounds were taking place within those time zones. And that, people are pretty much coming to realize, is something that has to be seriously considered. 

In which we toss out the baseball

On second thought…

The conversation* so far, and it’s a good one, has suggested that one of the problems of virtual tournaments is deciding on and running elimination rounds. One of the things we started doing at Bump lo these many years ago, and which Scarsdale continues on that same weekend, is a novice division that has a bunch of rounds for everyone until they run out of steam, maybe after about round 7. Awards go to the top whatever. This gives everybody, not just a select few, a whole bunch of rounds all weekend, which is great when they’re just starting out (the tournament is in November). And when you come to think of it, at the earliest stages of one’s career, the more rounds the better. That’s how you get good. (I won’t go into the illusory aspect of novice debate, where students who start out as stars in their first year flare out in their second year because, well, as I said, I won’t go into it now.) 

So, thing one, in virtual invitationals spread over a couple of days, no elims in novice. 

Thing two, in virtual tournaments spread over a couple of days, there will be elims in varsity. The nature of the competition at the varsity level pretty much requires it; these students tend to be sharks, not to mention bids and qualifications and the like. 

Thing three, as already discussed, is that limiting varsity to meaningful numbers for breaking to elims means fewer people debate in that division. At most of the tournaments I work, we have way more candidates for varsity than we have space, especially in PF. I would say that on average I’m working on a loss of about 50% of registrants who never get off the waitlist. (And these aren’t ephemeral entries.) So we need to create a new division. I suggested yesterday Triple-A <sarcasm> being the baseball nut that I am </sarcasm>. Better yet, after a little more thought, maybe we should A) adapt the good old Open moniker, and B) to distinguish Open from Varsity, eliminate elims. This division would be open to anyone. And it would, presumably, be limitless, as rooms could expand to meet the need. After, say, 7 rounds, awards go to the top whatever, because these folks are looking to get rounds too so that, eventually, they can swim with the sharks in the Varsity division.

In other words, here are the PF divisions at the 3-day Grand Old Ivy Invitational:

Varsity, cap at 172, breaking all 4-2s, prelims Fri and Sat, elims on Sun.

Open, 6 or 7 rounds, awards to the top 16, Fri and Sat.

Novice (limited to first- or second-year students in their absolute first season [2020-2021] of debate**), 6 or 7 rounds, awards to the top 16. Fri and Sat.

I can live with that. 

*I seem to spend half my life these days in workshops or conversations or planning meetings or slack chats talking about next season and our online future.

**There cannot be enough clarity when it comes to defining novices. Last season we had multiple cases of second-year debaters in or attempting to get into novice divisions, the former of which caused some serious agita, and happened enough so that we developed an SOP to handle it. 

In which we hit, at best, a two-bagger

Here’s the problem. Virtual tournaments, for the most part, are going to be limited in the number of rounds. The biggest tournaments, the ones with octas bids in any of their divisions, are going to have to cap at a meaningful point. If you can only reasonably hold 6 rounds, and you want to break all the 4-2s, you’re at around 172. Meanwhile, a tournament like Princeton gets a field of about 240 in PF. We do 240 for no other reason than because we have room space for 240. 

On the other hand, Princeton IRL has no novice PF division, because there’s not enough room space. Princeton Virtual has unlimited rooms. Problem solved, add a novice division until RL comes back.

Meanwhile, the 172 cap in varsity meant about 70 teams don’t get in. There has been a lot of talk around the circuit about creating a new division in light of probable future caps. This would be a division with non-novices, on the belief that actual novices deserve a field of their peers. It would be a division of younger or less seasoned varsity debaters, what might in some parlances be called JV or Intermediate. Sadly, either of these terms has a slight pejorative tinge in the debate universe. Instead of being seen as a launch pad for varsity, as I think is the usual case in JV sports (“Sorry, pal, the varsity roster is all filled up this year”), it is seen as bush league or, simply, not good enough. What we would want to do is take away the faint scent of second-class citizenship in that division, and I think the name will be everything. 

I’ve heard a lot of suggestions so far, and none of them work for me. So for the time being I’m going to propose my own name for this division until something better comes along: Triple-A. Granted, this isn’t great, but it’s better than anything else so far. It has the least amount of negativity, except maybe among the avid baseball fans in the debate universe, which number, according to the last count, 7 or 8 countrywide. 

If you can do better, go for it. Until then, I'm putting together some AAA divisions.

In which we teach Siri to sit up, beg, fetch and pull Timmy out of the well

New computer up and running? Check.

Essentially I’m replacing my old Mac Mini, which over the years has slowed down to a crawl. It works fine, once it gets in the mood, but that takes a while. And honestly, who’s got the time? So what I did was take my MacBook (the 12-inch one that apparently is the most hated computer since HAL 9000) and hooked that up as a desktop, disconnecting it when I needed to travel. That’s been working great, but it is a little hinky about reconnecting when it’s been away from home for a while, sort of like a bratty kid coming back from boarding school. So when the new Macbooks came out with the good keyboards—not that the bad keyboard ever bothered me much, but I’m easy to please—I figured the time was right to get a new traveling computer, especially since I’m not traveling anymore. So, meet the new MacBook Air. I spent a while this afternoon getting it to work exactly like everything else I already have, and I’m quite happy with it. Plus ça change… On the other hand, the new Touch ID is a nice, uh, touch. 

One thing that took a while was getting Slack organized. I’ve been a WhatsApp person for a while now, but I can see how the functionality of Slack is better suited to our virtual tabbing. I’m looking forward to testing the jitsi interface, via which you go into a Slack channel, put in a jitsi command, and voila, a videochat of unlimited duration and unlimited size. Or so they say. We’ll see. Anyhow, I have a good half dozen Slack groups, which seems like more than enough. One of the things I’ve been hearing is that people are getting communicated up the wazoo these days, and enough is enough. Having had a career where if I saw another human being in any given month it was a remarkable event, whereas others around me in other divisions had more meetings than Trump has tweets, I can appreciate how some people need to communicate 25/8 while others just want to get some work done. 

What a world.  

In which we debrief on the MSDL virtual experience

I mean, I know you’re dying to find out.

This was, among other things, the first wet test of the NSDA virtual room system. And for most of the Northeast Traveling Tab Room, a first in-the-trenches working of a virtual tab. I’ll speak to the former first.

It works.

Now, on to the second thing. (No, just kidding.) I won’t go into the details of NSDA’s system of virtual rooms. I’ve got a marginal understanding of the underlying technology, and a general idea of how to use it in tabroom, but I don’t trust my knowledge enough so far to pretend to be able to explain it to others. The point is, it doesn’t really matter. In the event, you pair a round, and the system assigns them a room. Debaters and judges go into the rooms, and let fly the dogs of war. If there’s an issue, an admin can go into the room and sort things out. From my vantage point, issues were few and far between. Most people just hit their appropriate buttons, and it worked. For what it’s worth, the backend setup for tab staff to use the system looks mostly like just a couple more buttons setting up the tournament in tabroom. No big deal. My understanding is the NSDA will be using this system at NatNats, and there is no reason why they shouldn’t. I’d like to say that Massachusetts got the kinks out of it, but honestly, there weren’t any kinks beyond a few people not being able to connect because of non-unique issues on their end. 

Ain’t that just a kick?

As for virtual tabbing, there we learned a lot, or maybe we just confirmed what the early pioneers already said. First of all, tabroom remains tabroom, aside from the fact that every time you run it someone has snuck in a few new buttons without telling you about it, but we’re used to that now. It’s everything else that has changed in a meaningful way.

We had a zoom room up for our tab room conversations. That is a must (although it doesn’t necessarily have to be zoom). We learned that the fewer people in the room the better. We had LD and PF and some general staff in one room, and it was occasionally cacophonous. At most relatively large events I’d isolate LD and PF and Policy from one another (unless the same people are doing them). 

Since the system assigned rooms, we didn’t need to use the zoom breakout function. We did have room managers, though. These were people assigned to the rooms to make sure the rounds were really happening. You would think that seeing that the judge had pressed start would be enough, but I imagine there will always be judges who hit start independent of any sane definition of the word start, and that has to be accounted for. The room managers made sure each round was actually happening, and fixed the couple of tech problems that might have arisen. They reported back to us on a slack channel. 

Slack was the app of choice for all backend communication other than tabbing. Essentially it was channels for each division, plus one for general and another for tech issues. Unfortunately everyone running the jernt was in all of them, and we’d be more specific next time. Again, cacophony is a possibility.

We had a judge room and a student room for hanging out, and a manager for each. Again these were in zoom, but that was happenstance, and presumably any system would work. Given that Chrome seems to be the default browser anyhow to run any system we’ve heard of so far, a Google room probably makes as much sense as anything else. Anyhow, when someone wasn’t in their round, presumably they’d be in the lounge. Other judges could be found if a replacement was necessary. 

Finally, we single-flighted almost everything except an elim or two. That really helped. We had the time built in to get the job done. 

In the aftermath, I couldn’t be more sanguine about the workability of virtual tournaments. And I’m guessing that they will be the norm for 2020-21. After that, they can become a backup (no snow cancellations) and an addition. Personally, I don’t really see tournaments being half virtual and half in-person; something about that intuitively doesn’t gel. And I don’t see in-person tournaments disappearing, because we’re all human beings and we are social animals. But as I’ve maintained from the start, I do see a new avenue to explore not out of necessity but, when the time is right, out of choice. That is going to be fun. 

In which we remain retired

My freelance job for the DJ has concluded. I took it on only because they asked, as they needed someone with a fresh style but nonetheless an RD mindset to have at something. As it turned out, I’m not that much of an RD stylist. They have a meatier, pack-it-all-in approach, no doubt as a result of the magazine mentality, whereas I have a slower, more dramatic, let-it-play-out approach, born of my book mentality. I think the work I did for them acted mostly as a structural starter set than anything else. But, hey, it was only a few days and it was sort of fun. And they didn’t threaten to sue me for dereliction of duty, so I guess I didn’t foul it up too badly.

The thing is, having been retired for over a year, I don’t miss the DJ at all (although I do miss a lot of the people). Having started working when I was thirteen, caddying at our local golf courses, I was ready to stop when I tumbled into my seventies. This is not to say that I sit in the rocker all day, as I’ve been doing all my usual tournament stuff (until the pandemic came along) as well as various other bits of business. It’s just that they’ve been my bits of business, writing stories for my granddaughter and archiving my photos in digital format and things like that. Spending more time cooking and getting pretty good at it. Nice long daily walks to keep the blood flowing. Reading what I want to read. It’s interesting, actually. For years I couldn’t imagine retiring, and then one day I was done, and now I can’t imagine working. I have friends my age in various stages of the same. One thing that unites us is keeping our hands into some sort of real labor. They tend to have just one or two workdays a week, or they take on the odd freelance job, while for me it’s tournaments. None of us are doing it for the money (if there’s money in running tournaments I have yet to find out about it), just for the connection. If I didn’t have tournaments I might not have so completely severed the DJ connection. But I do have tournaments, and if anything, they’ve unexpectedly gotten a hell of a lot more interesting lately. 2020-2021 is going to be one hell of a roller coaster ride. 

Anyhow, so much for my little freelance moment. Short, sweet, done. On to the MSDL championships. 

In which we tackle a few odds and ends

I’ve started watching Jessica Jones on Netflix and so far I’m enjoying it. There’s something about both the narrative style and content that strikes me as very comic-bookish in a good way. As I watch it I can envision it playing out on a comics page. Just out of curiosity I went to Wikipedia to check out the heroine’s backstory. Whoa! If all that comes into play it’s going to be hard to keep up. We’ll see. I’ve also been watching The Clone Wars. It has clunky animation and a narrative that plays fast and loose with continuity, but somehow it is mildly addictive. Come to think of it, The Magicians has that same problem with narrative flow. Way too many things happen offscreen, if they happen at all. I’ve put that one on hiatus for a while. Given the almost pointlessness of the drifting plot, I won’t easily lose my place in it. I’ve still got Doctor Who on hiatus as well, come to think of it. When it went off Amazon (or was it Netflix?) I was not happy. I know there’s ways of streaming it again, but I don’t want to sign up for too many services until I’ve run out of content on the ones I already have. Amazon, Netflix, Disney+ and PBS Explore seem to offer more good stuff than I’ll ever be able to watch. I don’t want to replace my old ridiculously high cable bill with a ridiculously high streaming bill.

I recently rearranged my office space, and right now I can see a very yellow butterfly working its way around a light purple spray of flowers outside the glass doors. Used to be all I could see were the spines of my fiction books from C to G. I bring this up because at this moment I’m communicating with Catholic Charlie and Kaz about working spaces as we gird our loins for Massachusetts this weekend. Among the three of us, we seem to have enough tech to launch a cyber attack on three or four rogue nations simultaneously. Whether or not Massachusetts is a rogue nation is debatable. 

Finally, some of the latest additions to the Tab room playlist: lots of Three Dog Night, some Eddie Money who was never on my radar, some of Magical Mystery Tour that I can’t believe wasn’t there in the first place given that the Beatles were added in early, the Walker Brothers, some Nilsson rarities, some Beachboys that I can’t believe [see Magical Mystery Tour], the odd Bill Wyman Rhythm Kings track, a couple of Doors tracks without Jim Morrison, Barenaked Ladies, Elvis P [yeah, I can’t believe etc., etc.], and some Band rarities. 

And that is that. 

In which we face the future

I watched some of the workshops from the NDCA over the weekend. Mostly, of course, I stuck to the ones about tournaments; I don’t have a team, so at least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. As the speakers went through their paces, I was struck by one thing most of all: We don’t know anything yet about our covid forensic future. 

What we are undergoing now is a paradigm shift in the classic sense of the phrase. We are finding out that everything we think we know is relatively worthless in the light of present phenomena. The past is no longer prologue. This applies to many, many things, from office work to grocery shopping and everything that underlies those things, be it supply chains or how we consume media. It applies as well to forensics tournaments, and everything that underlies those tournaments, like coaching and training and recruitment and team-building and judging. For decades we have built a paradigm of debate as, first, learning how to do it, and second, doing it competitively once we’ve learned how. All of that needs to be thrown out the window.

One thing remains true: debate ultimately makes smarter people. (Forgive me for isolating debate, because other forensic activities are also strongly, albeit differently, educational. Debate happens to be what I know best of all.) Debate training is a strong educational activity. The thinking skills that are learned through debate can be applied to innumerable other pursuits. The Newark Superintendent’s keynote address said exactly that, and explained why, budgets and pandemics notwithstanding, in the long run he will want more debate, for more age groups, in all his schools. It makes education better on all counts, in all branches of knowledge. That is core, and that is unshakably true.

What the pandemic has just begun to do, and will do more of for at least the coming school year, if not longer, is challenge how we will get to have debate in our schools. It may for some be an existential question. For others, I hope the majority, it is a survivable challenge. And, in a word, creating a digital analog to the pre-covid world is not the answer. You can’t simply take everything you were doing and now do it online. It is not that everything is going to change. It is more that EVERYTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE!!!! Every notion we already have about tournaments, which is my subject in particular, is probably wrong slash inapplicable. It just ain’t the same anymore.

All the processes need to change.

All of them.

This is where the expression “thinking out of the box” comes in. We’ve thrown away the box. Our thinking has to be new. You can’t run rounds the same way, in the same number, for the same people. Online has its own demands. Time and space are redefined. Given that Kant says that the only two a priori facts are, indeed, time and space, you’ve got some big issues here. 

Maybe one-day tournaments take two or three days. 

Maybe weekend tournaments start on Tuesday.

Maybe new divisions need to be created to satisfy possible increased demand once travel costs are eliminated.

Trophies?

Qualifications/bids?

Availability to economically challenged programs? (As Jonathan Alston stongly and correctly pointed out, online tournaments do not solve economic issues, it merely changes them.)

Socializing between teams, both students and coaches? I’ve always loved that tournaments bring different people together in a shared activity. How do virtual tournaments do that? Should they? Can they? 

My point is, the sooner we stop thinking about how to do what we did, and start thinking about how we can do what we can, we’ll be better off. My standard advice to people in the past who wanted to create a new tournament was to ask themselves why, and then to go about creating a tournament that fulfills their goals. On top of that, given my history as a systems manager, I’ve always worked with the idea that we have to give people what they need, and not what they want. As Steve Jobs rightly pointed out, if Apple had dedicated itself to giving people what they wanted, they never would have created the iPhone. If, as tournament directors, we spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to do what we’ve always done, we will accomplish little, and run some pretty punk tournaments along the way. We have to think differently. Outside the box. In a word, we have to set our goals for the virtual tournament universe, and find the best way to achieve those goals. The main thing our goals should be is NOT to replicate what we’ve always done. That just won’t hack it. 

As I’ve said before, I’m hoping that when we come out of this pandemic crisis we will have created a new paradigm of virtual debating that will endure beyond its origins. I’m not saying that we eliminate in-person debate, but that we find a way to add virtual debate to our overall menu in addition to in-person when in-person finally comes back in force. If we can do that successfully, we will, in a word, create more debate. And, as I said earlier, more debate = more and better education. No further reason needs to be given to aim for that particular goal. But in any case, the time has come to realize that the paradigm shift is here. Throw out the old paradigms. They won’t do you any good anymore. They’re based on a reality that doesn’t exist. We are in a new reality.

Deal with it. 

In which we do some book reports

The latest upgrade to MacOS took about a month to load this morning. I’m not used to that. Made me feel like I was running Windows again. 

Two books worth talking about, in the order I read them. Lathe of Heaven is, by my definition, a perfect example of classic SF. Le Guin takes an idea, effective dreaming (where one’s dreams come true), and comes at it from every possible direction, sinking her teeth into it and then shaking it like an overexcited dog until there isn’t anything she hasn’t considered. (Was that as poorly a done metaphor as it feels? Oh, well. You’re not paying me for this.) I’ve only recently begun reading her, and I’m glad that I have. Very satisfying stuff, if you’re in the mood for it. I was discussing classic narrative styles with a friend earlier this week. Contemporary styles tend to play fast and loose with structure. This isn’t exactly new—it’s what the modernists were doing prior to WWI—but it’s no longer avant garde. It’s sort of expected. As a matter of fact, contemporary writing of all sorts (and virtually every other art form) seems to provide fast and loose handling of something. Again, it’s sort of expected. Certainly that’s the rule in SF. Read the Hugo winners of late. You’ll see what I mean. 

The other book is The Fire Next Time. So much prescribed reading on race nowadays is impenetrable academic stuff that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, the value of its content notwithstanding. This is a problem of contemporary academics, not in any way limited to racial theory. Most inhabitants of the halls of academe have lost the ability to write clearly. They are not interested in getting their message across to anyone other than those who have the same inability to write straight. In fact, they have theories about unstraight writing to justify their inherent obfuscated approach, much in the same way “progressive” debaters have theories to justify their inherent obfuscated approaches. But getting back to the point, Baldwin published TFNT in 1962, and I think it ought to be among the first books one reads on race in America if one really wants to understand things. 99% of it could have been written yesterday. Toss in The Autobiography of Malcolm X (ghosted by Alex Haley) while you’re at it. Then Mills’s The Racial Contract if you’re of a debatish bent. Three really good writers lay it all out. I would imagine that your average white student would benefit from these more than any others as a starting point. (I wouldn’t presume to suggest a starting point for students of color, aside from it not being hifalutin academia.) Educators do need starting points, n’est-ce pas? 

In which we start to see that virtual tournamentation is going to raise a few issues

I think this is an interesting question. In a world of virtual tournaments, distance is meaningless. I can attend a tournament down the street as easily as a tournament in Cooch Behar, or more to the point, vice versa. I can attend a tournament anywhere. So how, or should, tournaments limit entries? If a tournament has an octas bid, everyone in the hunt will want to attend. This includes the hunters who would be lucky to escape without shooting an arrow into their own feet, the Orions who should be going JV in Podunk (sorry, Podunk), not Varsity at Glenbrooks. As soon as the $ircuit can change that $ to a C, things get interesting.

There’s another interesting question, that of independent entries. In a world where independent entries are often high school students who, if they are not traveling alone, have at best a “chaperone” who is maybe a college freshman or sophomore. I have always been hard-assed about independents, if for no other reason than if one of them falls down the stairs at a tournament I’m running, I’m going to have to be the one to take them to the hospital. If it’s an independent with a parent, obviating my need to help push the gurney, that independent is taking a slot from a school that is one of my regular customers. What business caters to fly-by-nights over their regulars? That independent isn’t going to be back in a couple of years. Do I want my regulars do remain satisfied over the long term? (At a tournament once, a coach had some cockamamie complaint that was ludicrous on face. The TD college kid wanted to blow her off. I pointed out that she was an annual guest paying upwards of a couple of thousand dollars year after year. Cockamamie and ludicrous go out the window at that point, and you listen sympathetically and promise to do your best to solve her problem.)

Limits are going to have to be set for virtual tournaments, obviously, if for no other reason than at some point, divisions get too big to run meaningfully (cf Harvard). Of course there are other considerations, like room management (since virtual rooms apparently are not free, but I wonder if that will be the case forever; maybe we’re just not seeing the obvious work-around). 

The thing is, in the non-virtual world, we don’t think too much about who is attending, because we have space limits and preset rules about status and the like. Now we’ve got to start thinking about these former givens. We have to go back to the beginning and ask ourselves what is the point of our tournament, other than fund-raising (itself an issue that starts flapping in the wind in the virtual universe)? 

Things are starting to get interesting. 

In which we wish we could run them over with our carts

Yale has announced its new dates in October, and confirmed its status as an e-tournament. The date change is simply based on the calendar, as in, when the Elis finally took a look at it, they found Jewish holidays in September as far as the eye can see. Wondering why they couldn’t have looked at the calendar back in last September is a mug’s game; the Ivy mind doesn’t work that way. In any case, the e-dominoes will start tumbling for real now for next season. The lack of anybody knowing anything, be it about budgets or travel or classes, makes everything anyone says mere opinion. There are no facts, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise. Which isn’t stopping us from gnawing on those opinions. Thomas Gradgrind is turning in his imaginary grave. 

I sallied forth this morning for my weekly grocery adventure. If you’re old as the hills, they let you in before the hoi and the polloi, so Tuesday mornings I simply roll out of bed, into the car and down the aisles. The thing is, when I used to live in Manhattan in the 1970s, we used to shop at the original Fairway, which was pretty much vegetables-only in its infancy. For some reason, 110% of the customers were, A) old people who B) had never been in a market before that day and therefore had no idea that C) there were other people in the building. Sadly, 110% of those exact same people go shopping with me on senior mornings. Now that I am one of those old people, I am happy to report that obliviousness is not necessarily a factor of age, and I will admit that I have seen goobers of all ages in my day. Still, there are some golden agers who give the rest of us a bad name, and they all shop when I do. The good news is that one doesn’t inevitably evolve into one of those bad eggs, any more than you inevitably wake up one day liking Lawrence Welk and Matlock. Doesn’t happen. 

Whew. 

In which we use proper English

I managed to turn on the flash on my iPhone camera. I have no idea how that happened, and it was the devil to remember A) that it was on, and B) how to turn it off. Most pix I take the flash never comes into play, so I’d unexpectedly get a flash shot in low light, curse the darkness, go to bed and forget about it, until the next time the light was low. Not that it’s hard to turn on and off, but as with all the camera features of the phone (presumably every phone) there’s a lot of options shoved into a tiny space. Anyhow, it’s off now. Until the next time to comes on for no reason whatsoever. 

Curse you, Steve Jobs.

I’ve moved things around in the dungeon chez so that I can have a little view when I’m working. Previously I stared into the corner if I wasn’t staring at the monitor. Now I can stare out the window. Feel free to walk by to give me something to look at. 

Catholic Charlie is trying to lasso the NYCFL leadership to talk about next season. It’s not as if anyone exactly knows anything, but it won’t hurt to begin brainstorming. We’re all operating under the assumption that we will have limited access to tournament travel, so this will be yet another shot at virtuality. The thing is, once schools see that they can go to tournaments without actually going to tournaments, thus saving all that travel money, won’t there be pressure to keep tournaments virtual beyond the pandemic? As I’ve said before, this might be a good thing, a barrier breaker for schools without the funds to travel. We’ll see. 

Just for the record, I happen to follow NSD Update. And they drive me effing crazy because apparently they have no regard for the English language. To wit: the verb champion means to advocate or fight for a cause. It does not mean to win a championship. NSD doesn’t know this. Or maybe they have the old Humpty Dumpty idea that words mean what they want them to mean; didn’t that go out with Derrida and the leisure suit? Anyhow, I figure no one from NSD reads this blog, which defiantly champions good usage, but this image is for them, just in case:

In which we continue being conservative

I’ve finished a workable first draft of the article for the DJ, so the burden of that has temporarily moved to others, although it will be back eventually for further editing. So that’s done, mostly. It was work. I’ve almost forgotten what that was like.

The NDCA conference is next week, and I will try to catch as many relevant workshops as I can, although they are promising that they will also eventually be online. No one will probably be interested in my warnings about Zoom, in any case. I do not claim that it will go away; I just claim that it isn’t exactly here, and while it might be the ad hoc program, there is no guarantee that it will (or won’t) become the default or the standard. This wouldn’t matter much if there wasn’t money involved, but I have a fear that people desperate for something to do debate wise will buy in too soon, and get stuck. I’ve seen that happen in my other world. For years people were coming to us at the DJ with great solutions to this, that or the other problem, and almost inevitably their proprietary solutions, which did in fact solve, couldn’t match the solutions found in more general software. If you have Word, for instance, you are running the de facto default program available to (and understood) by all. If you are dealing with writers in-house and freelance, they all not only know how to use Word but are probably using it all the time. So some other writing solution would somehow be better than the installed and understood base? I don’t think so. The benefits of already being installed and understood are hard to overcome. What we’re looking at in debate software is analogous but not quite the same. We now live in a universe where Google and Microsoft were beat out of the gate by Zoom, despite having their own solutions. Google and Microsoft (and who knows, Apple?) have been beat out of the gate before. But they’re still very much in the race, and it’s the final stretch that matters most. Bet your money on the proven runners, I say. Long shots win occasionally, but not as often as the favorites. Trust me on this.

Reading: Master of the Senate
Listening (book): Lathe of Heaven
Watching: The Magicians (season 3 and I still don’t know if I like it or not)
Listening (music): Elvis selections for the tab room playlist (found a couple)
Listening (podcast): David Tennant
Cooking: From James Morton’s Brilliant Breads (about the thousandth bread book I’ve tried and definitely the best; he was a Bake-off finalist)

In which we work

Out of the blue the old DJ asked if I was interested in a little writing project. My only criterion was that it be truly little, no more than a week, which turned out to be the case. Now I’m in the middle of that week. It’s strange writing under the eyes of an editor again (actually, two in this case). Normally I just plunk stuff down and devil take the hindmost. But now I’ve got to engage in give and take, which essentially means getting directions, throwing something down on paper (in a manner of speaking), passing it along, getting new directions, throwing something else down on paper, rinse, repeat, and with any luck, zeroing in a good end product. The funny thing is that I like being told what to do, and I have no compunctions about throwing out what seemed perfectly good at the time and trying something else. And I like writing to order. I wouldn’t want to make a living at it, but a little can be fun. A change of pace, in any case.

I Zoomed for the first time yesterday, a discussion of virtual tournaments, and I have to agree with the general consensus that the software is easy as pie. I loaded the app onto my iPad, also following the general consensus that the IOS app is safer than the PC app. Maybe. Of course, the issue with a virtual tournament is not the presentation software per se but the rooms. One-off meetings are simple enough, but when you have an army or two you’re trying to manage, that becomes problematic. Given the youth, shall we say, of present solutions to that issue, I am extremely reluctant to believe that we are anywhere close to a reasonable set of best practices. Given how much of our lives is run by Google or Microsoft, how long will it be before those folks come up with something that turns Zoom into Geocities? If, say, my mail and document storage and communications software are all connected at the root, and I never have to leave the Google garden, why would I? The same could be said of Microsoft, at least in the enterprise universe. So, expect change. That said, one has to live now. We’ll see what happens.

What I’ve seen among my friends, in and out of debate and the DJ and the poker table slash golf course, is a complete agreement about the future, to whit, everyone thinks something different. Literally. Opinions range from the marching in the streets tomorrow to I’ll see you in 2022. Personally, I am neither optimistic nor pessimistic but simply hopeful. My biggest horse in the race is the family in the UK, which I only visit via software these days (for which, thank God). Today was the day we were originally going to fly to London for a visit. Now all I have is a Delta voucher, and lots of emails from Cameron Macintosh (sp?) telling me that the Stoppard play for which I had purchased tickets will happen and to hold tight while he holds my money. Sigh.

Oh, well. Back to work. For the DJ.