Today is a little like Christmas, or my birthday before I got old, or going to Disneyland, or going to see a Mariners game.
Today I get to tab a tournament.
For those outside the debate world, “tabbing” is the magic system by which debate tournament staff determine which teams shall face each other in any given round. There are very particular rules and processes to determine this, as guided by custom and refined over time, with fairness and competitive advancement of the tournament as ultimate goals.
The means used are either new computer programs that never seem to work properly or good old index cards, markers, and pencils. As the prior sentence indicates, I heavily favor the latter.
Even those of you familiar with debate tournaments and their culture may be confused at why getting to tab a tournament feels more like visiting a theme park than just doing some work or having a regular day. Sure, having a certain amount of control and ultimate knowledge about the tournament is entertaining. But that’s not really what makes tabbing special. Rather, it’s some combination of my affection for some relatively basic concepts: applied statistics, sorting, order, and competition.
It doesn’t hurt that I’m pretty good at it and pride myself on making tournaments run on-time. Tab is the single biggest factor in whether a tournament runs close to time (rare) or lags well behind schedule (common).
The tournament in question is, of course, our own tournament – the Rutgers tournament, the last tournament of the year before Nationals. For all but one of our teams, this will close the debate season, put a cap on probably the most successful year Rutgers has had in its modern incarnation on the parliamentary circuit. It’s important for it to be a good experience. We have lots of entertainment and food and a decent number of competitors, though late flakiness is reducing our size just a little.
Size matters not, though. It’s going to be a good time. I have my index cards and markers ready to go. And, perhaps more importantly, I get to teach a whole new generation to love tab. One member of each class returning next year will be in tab with me, learning the trade.
I can’t wait.
