Chapter 47: Getting Out There

January 30, 1981

I was nervous. Damn nervous. I hadn’t done this in more years than I’d been alive. Or ... well ... that only makes sense from a nonsensical perspective, right?

We all boarded the bus around 3pm. Fridays were tricky; most schools wouldn’t start the tournament until classes were over because, well, classes were using those rooms. But you didn’t want to start too late, or you’d get nothing done. The second tricky part of Fridays was attire. I was in navy blue slacks and a matching sport coat. I wanted a real suit next year, but not until I’d outgrown this. However, white shirt? Not now, anyway. A light yellow shirt with a blue tie, this time. Loafers and the new tie tack and cuff links completed things. Not something I wanted to wear to classes, so I changed in the bathroom before boarding the bus. So did everyone else, pretty much.

I sat in the back with Cammie, who was playing the role of my mentor pretty well. Janet and Lizzie set nearby, with their giant sample cases full of note cards, and the rolling carriers to help them move said cases around. CX debate requires moving a considerable amount of stuff around. Extemp requires lugging some files full of cut-up magazines and newspapers. One is a slow process of long-term research. The other requires almost daily updates.

I was getting closer to the rest of the team. We had three dilettantes staying home. I felt bad for them. It’s not hard to just get out there and do it. OK, it can be terrifying. But it’s not hard. No one is going to hit you, you don’t have to get in shape physically at least — and you get to hang out with cool people and go meet other cool people and be a part of something bigger.

Oh well. Vive la différence.

I chatted with Cammie and Janet, and a bit with Lizzie, who seemed busy. It took us about forty-five minutes to navigate the Houston traffic and roll up to Jefferson High School. Everyone piled off the bus and clustered around Ms. Ames, who got us moving to registration tables. I got a name tag and a sheet with my assignments. Two rounds tonight, two tomorrow. Each round had eight kids in it. About 160 kids in total were doing Extemp. After the first four rounds, they’d determine the top thirty-two, who’d go to quarterfinals. The top sixteen go to semis, then eight to finals. The top two kids in finals qualified for State. Any PQs meant lower places could qualify, but only via finals. If the finals had seven or eight PQ’s - oh well. We had several PQs on our team already. Cammie was one of them. Obviously, Ted Seiler. Art Welles. Callie Greene and Emmy Green (yes, both spellings). Emmy’s CX partner, May Tran, hadn’t qualified yet. Nor had Callie’s twin sister, Kenzie. There was a little friction there, but nothing bad.

I did not expect to be in the top thirty-two. Most likely I’d be done by early afternoon tomorrow. But I would go watch someone on the team compete for as long as anyone on the team was competing. Which, given Ted, likely meant until the bitter end.

Checked in, we were in the hurry-up-and-wait phase. We converged on the cafeteria, staked out a table, and settled in. First round was not until 6:00pm - if it started on time.

It turned out that, luckily or not, Callie was in my first round group. I barely knew Callie; we’d talked only a few times. I grabbed one of the shared Extemp boxes — they should be the same — and Callie and I headed out. Some of the most serious competitors had their own. Ted did. Cammie didn’t; neither did Callie.

“Hey, um ... Steve. First time, right?”

“Yup.”

“Virgin! And starting late!” She grinned.

“Some things are just worth the wait.” That got a giggle. Good.

“So, are you ready?”

“Hell, no. But I’m willing and able.” Another giggle.

“Hey, if you can joke, you’re doing better than I was. It petrified me. You know that line about picturing the judge in their underwear?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I was doing it in reverse.”

“More attractive.”

She blushed but grinned. “Well, I should hope so, considering it’s mostly parents judging. Anyway. That’s the big thing. You’re not competing, you’re playing to the judge all the way.”

“Yeah, that’s what Cammie tells me.”

“She’s cool. Sucks that we’re in the same round but the way this one looks, it’s about the top one in five in the quarters. Decent shot.”

“Sounds like it. Heck, it’s my first tournament. Anything better than straight eighth-places is good.”

She giggled and patted my arm. “Heck, if you manage straight eights that’d be impressive itself. It takes work to suck that much.”

“Way to build up my confidence.”

She considered me a bit. “I think you’re OK on confidence. Just a hunch.”

“You, too. Kick ass, Callie.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

We arrived at the room, where they gave us a topic. Everyone received the same. Collaboration not allowed. I realized we should have brought two boxes. Oh well.

‘What should President Reagan’s top priorities be in the first one hundred days of his term?‘

Oh boy. Something I had opinions on, at least. I looked at Callie, she looked at me, and we tore into the box, flipping to the US politics section, scanning pieces. It was OK for me to read something and hand it to her, just not discuss topic or structure.

I decided on improving the economy (focusing on the middle class), strengthening the military, and bringing the country together (with an emphasis on Watergate and the divisive election). Getting some quotes in order, I started sketching out the speech on my note card.

You can do anything you want in Extemp. It’s free-form. But many people treat it as if it was a five-paragraph paper, and that’s what I was doing. It’s the straightforward and default choice. Opening statement with summary of your key points, then a section on each point, then a closing statement with a summary of your points. Or, for short: Tell them what you’re going to tell them, then tell them, then tell them what you told them.

There are no right or wrong answers. The judge — often a parent or community member — has probably never judged before. Their first round they might well be going in cold with a cursory explanation of the rules. Whatever the judge likes, wins. If I knew the judge was a left-handed ice fisherman from Duluth, it’d be fine to push justice for lefties, winter activities, and tax relief for Minnesota as my top three.

I scribbled furiously for twenty minutes, knowing I was pushing it. Then I ran through it in my head. Focused a few things. Ran through it. Two minutes. Head for the door.

And in I went. I’m sure words came out of my mouth. No one pointed, no one laughed. The judge, a middle-aged African-American gentleman in a nice outfit and with a warm smile, who shook my hand as I came in, seemed interested, nodding at a few points. Who knows? He could hate yellow shirts. Or love them.

I finished, thanked him for his attention, shook his hand again, and headed out. I waited for Callie by our box. She came out and smiled. “Well, how’d it go?”

“I’m alive and he didn’t laugh or throw things. He smiled a bit and shook my hand on the way out. I may have blown it.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve got a shot at finishing above an eight.”

Callie giggled and punched my arm. “You are going to fit right in.”

We headed back to the lunch room. Ms. Ames met me immediately. “Hey, how’d it go, Steve?”

I shrugged. “I told Callie I might have blown it.”

She looked a little surprised. “That bad?”

“Well, on the way in I said my goal was to finish above all eights, and Callie said, ‘Hey, that’s hard to do’. I think I blew it on getting an eight, so there’s that whole angle down the drain.”

Ms. Ames snickered. “Oh, my. Don’t tell Ted! Not all the PQ’s would, but I could see him trying to get all eights just to do it. So, how’d it really go?”

“Topic was, what should Reagan’s top three priorities be in the first hundred days. I went with middle class economy, military, bringing the country together. Military was a risk. Pretty sure my points were all solid, and the words went out right, but if you played me a recording of the round I doubt I’d recognize it. I think it went OK.”

“It’ll get better with practice. I am proud of you just going out there and doing it, Steve. I know you wanted into the madhouse, but getting out there is more than half the battle.”

“Got it. And thanks for everything. And, it’s early. I could crash and burn. But I plan on hitting all the tournaments the rest of the year that I can just sign up for. The other one? Maybe, with some luck...” I winked.

“Ambitious. I like it. Go for it, Steve!”

I sat the table to wait. Cammie got back, and I repeated the first-round story again. Then again for Brad.

The 8:00pm round started at 9:00. Everyone assured me things were going as expected. Extemp was on time, but CX had run over, and everything stays synchronized for the CX’ers who are also extemping.