The printer has had its third malfunction this week. Your pens are already running out of ink. You madly edit that OO introduction one more time. Hot glue burns your fingers for the third time as you vainly attempt to keep your expos boards together.
It's the week of the tournament. And not just any tournament, the
first tournament. The one you've been denying for weeks. The one you are so unprepared for. The one where you break-in heels and hope you break in outrounds. The one you wish you had another week to prepare for.
But it's coming, and you can't stop it. You can't stop the stress, panic and procrastination. But wait--what's this? You can survive the first tournament of the year? The eighteen hour days? The
Rambo/Rambo on neg rounds? Yes. And here's how.
1. The Panic
Wake up the morning of the tournament fifteen minutes later than you planned. How will you have time to brush your teeth, do your hair, change your clothes, print out all those last minute briefs? You panic, doing everything at twice the speed you normally would, even though it's 6AM and you went to bed at 2AM working on your neg case. You triple check to make sure you have your sticky notes, pens and scripts, knowing you've probably forgotten something anyway (probably bobby pins that your friend needs later in the day).
You end up ready fifteen minutes earlier than you intended to, so you sit around and check Facebook or read
blog posts about tournaments. Then, when your mom finally gets ready (after trying on more outfits than you own), you realize you have to get your jacket, debate box, heels, emergency makeup, and timer together in five seconds flat.
2. The Prayer
On the way to the tournament facility, in the dark, at 6:30AM, your mom starts praying while you're in the middle of texting your debate partner about last minute 1AC edits. You close your eyes and pause, remembering the whole reason
why you're doing this. Also you need a lot of Jesus help if you're gonna get through this weekend.
3. The Friends
Freak out because you haven't seen a lot of those people since May, or even April and March. And those people are great (they're your friends, after all) and you have a short amount of time before the first round starts, and you still have to find your debate partner and finish talking about your case (because oops, forgot to finish that text).
4. The Postings
The tab person emerges from the pit the tab room, carrying that set of papers. Your heart drops to your stomach. You have the worst feeling--you're going to hit that team. You know, the win-every-tournament, break-at-NITOC, why-aren't-they-graduated-yet team. You make your way through the crowd of suits and heels and cologne and hormones to the front, where your worst fears are confirmed. Despite how much prep you've put into this, you're not sure you'll make it out of this round with your dignity intact.
5. The First Round
After spending too much time tracking down your partner, and more time spent finding your room, you reach the first competition room. Your opponents (*gulp*) already have their massive binder ("I thought only neg binders were that big!") and nameplates out, totally prepared and put together. You realize you need your hair out of your face, but you left the bobby-pins at home ("I knew I should've quadruple checked that list!") Shaking, your partner pulls out the negative binder, looking pathetic next to other team's stacks of briefs. The judge walks in, completely unreadable. Weren't you supposed to ask them something? Right, right, judging philosophy. Or judging paradigm. Or judging experience. ("Okay, now I'm even more confused.") Before you know it, the first round has started. And before you have a chance to breathe, the first round has ended. ("Wait, I'm still alive?") Yes, you survived. Now you only have another... entire tournament.
6. The Huddle
Your club mates gather together in the corner (and, if you're from Invictus, block an entire walkway) for the club huddle. Someone gives a short tournament pep/motivational talk, struggling to speak over the rest of the people in the common room. Everyone at least gets the gist of what is said, someone prays, and the short people (me) get squished as everyone moves in for the whole hands in the middle shout thing, and everyone tries to be louder than the other clubs, because obviously that will make us win more.
7. The Panic (pt 2)
In the midst of the huddle, postings for the first speech round went up. You hobble in your heels ("I should've brought slippers!") to through the crowd to find your name first on the list of speakers in your room. But now you don't have time to practice your speech before going in! That ending is still rusty ("I should've practiced more!"), and hold on, which point was which? ("And I still don't have bobby-pins!")
8. The Prayer (pt 2)
Your judges are a few minutes late, so you pace outside your room, madly cramming your speech into your brain. This is the worst possible thing that could've happened, especially after the crazy morning you've had. But, hold on, what's this? An advanced speaker is coming towards your room. Uh oh. Are they in the same room as you? They broke at NITOC last year! Wait, no they're talking to you. They ask how you are, if this is your first tournament. What is this???
Super Advanced: Are ya nervous?
You: YES *cough* I mean, a little bit, sure.
Super Advanced: Do you want me to pray with you before your round?
You: *nods vigorously*
That's not exactly what you were thinking would happen, but you'll take it. The advanced speaker prays with you, and your hands shake a little less, your mind's a little clearer. You finally remember that example you use in your third point. You can do it. You can get through your first speech!
9. The People
After surviving your first two rounds, it's time for lunch ("Who could eat at a time like this??") You head into the crowded room, gaping at the line for Chick-Fil-A. You recognize a few of your friends from club and join them in line. One of the second years tells a story about clapping after the wrong debate speech. A few students from a different club are in line next to you. Another suit-clad kid from your club introduces you to the foreigners, who soon become friends. The line goes by in a flash, and you find yourself sitting with new friends. Your shoulders start loosing their tension. You know another round is coming, but that's okay. If you can get through that first round, you can get through all the rest. And plus you have some new friends to talk about your rounds with.
10. The Rest (no, not sleep)
For the rest of the tournament, you get through your rounds, finally figuring out how this tournament thing works. You wake up the next morning, this time remembering the bobby-pins and comfy shoe, but maybe forgetting your name tag. You hang out with the friends you made, you make more friends. You step out of your comfort zone. You have fun. You learn things you never knew you never knew. Maybe there are some low moments, some bad rounds, some messed up speeches. You may not come out with a trophy in your hand, but you had a good time.
There'll be time later to really get the hang of things. Now is the time to learn, grow, and have fun.
Take a deep breath, say a prayer, and vote affirmative.
