Superweeds
It was the first varsity tournament of my sophomore year. The topic: on balance, the benefits of genetically modified foods outweigh the harms. Because of the wording of the resolution we used a cost benefit analysis. Let it be known however, there are very few harms when it comes to genetic modification.
The benefits of genetic modification include how they help make crops healthier, how it helps farmers yield larger harvests, how GM crops can be used to make better vaccines, how genetic modification limits pesticide usage, and how genetically modified organisms are more resilient to the natural forces. Frankly, there’s even more benefits (and stats to support them), but the list would be ridiculously long. The costs include several false reports of prenatal bleeding caused by GM crops, some small farms being harmed economically by big corporations, the endangerment of one species of monarch butterfly, and the potential creation of superweeds in select environments.
These costs are hardly evident in comparison to the benefits. As such, my affirmative was extensive, articulate, and thorough. This was the first time I was truly proud of a case. The negative, on the other hand, was a disaster.
I wrote two separate negative cases. One had three relatively weak contentions. The other had the same contentions, but I wrote in a red herring contention. The strategy is simple: write a short, easily beaten contention in the middle of a case. This hopefully makes it so the opponent focuses on the one contention, as opposed to the rest of the case. With the genetic modification case the red herring was that GM crops endanger one species of monarch butterfly.
At the tournament, the coin flipped in our favor all three rounds and we wound up both affirmative and speaking second. Needless to say, with the strength of my case and luck on our side, Crackshot and I won all three rounds.
It is also of note that the second round of the tournament was the first I faced one of my rivals, Alec. He was always kind to me, but never courteous in our debates. Each time we faced off, he brought along a different partner. I remember this first face off because our judge was my father’s old debate coach. It really bugged Alec that I was a year younger than him and the judge already knew me. We would later face him three more times, but I’ll get to that later.
This meet was important because for the first time ever, Crackshot and I broke to finals. It was a big deal to us, so the second the round posted we hustled to our room early and waited for everyone to arrive.
Our opponents arrived soon after, and much to our chagrin they were seasoned veterans. It was a boy and a girl, both seniors. The boy, being ill, refused to shake anyone’s hand. He was slender, meticulous, and was their first speaker. The girl was calculated and cruel, but had dyed hair to almost humanize her. We would soon learn that she could talk circles around the Crackshot. In fact, she’s part of the reason Crackshot started to speed up his speeches.
In a stroke of bad luck, we lost the coin toss. They took the affirmative. We took second speaker. We hadn’t run the negative yet. It was poorly written. It was sloppy. We were un-practiced. And our opponents were superior. On top of that I had included that red herring contention. It was only a sentence: in a study done by the Institute for Modern Technology, GM crops eliminate habitat for the monarch butterfly, a species whose population is already down 50%. It was ridiculous. We were screwed.
As the round began I lost myself. I was flustered through my speeches, their first speaker walked over me in my crossfire. Crackshot did his best, but he was no match for her experience and poise. If I recall this was the first of only a few times I ever took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves mid-round.
I lost all hope, so during that final speech I pretended to take notes. I was drawing a little cartoon. It was of a prickly plant wearing a cape. A super weed. But during that final speech I saw something. Crackshot was still steadfast. He left everything on the floor and refused to give up. This was our first finals round, and he wasn’t letting anything stop him. I appreciated his rigor. When I crumbled, he carried on. As a team we could be unstoppable.
We lost that round. Pretty handily. We took sixth place at the meet overall, and they gave us a small trophy. That was the best we had ever done, and hearing them say our names on the stage is a feeling I never will forget.
I still have that drawing of the superweed. Every time I look at it I remember that thrill. The thrill of winning. The thrill of competition. Most of all, the thrill of someone having my back. Crackshot had my back in that meet, and for the rest of highschool.
I kept that drawing in my briefcase the next three years. This is the fifth of eight lucky charms that we kept with us at each meet, and I always thought this one held the most weight. It started us on a path of countless wins for the next three seasons.
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I know there’s already a few posts out there like this
Reblog this if you’re a speech and debate blog! I’d prefer if you were primarily debate (like, not a personal blog that sometimes posts debate stuff), but anyone can reblog! Especially if you post original content! I’m looking for more people to follow and reblog from!
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The Mystical Tale of the Handsome Man
It all begins in the catacombs of a far away school on the outskirts of the city. My partner and I have a round in this subbasement and it smells like popcorn and tuna. We get to our room, and sitting in a chair at the far end is a raggedy man. "Excuse me? Is this the room for 34 B?" My partner calls out. No response. Suddenly he shakes awake, turns around and says "sorry, I was dozing off." Not a great start to a third round. We sit and chat with the judge for a bit, probably about ten minutes, when the second wave team asks why we have not started our round. The opposing team has not shown up yet. So we graciously move out into the hall and let the second wave round go first. After another ten minutes, two boys appear from a staircase. Our opponents. We come to learn that they are from the preppiest Catholic school in the state, one of them is going to Harvard, and the other has a severe cold. We also learn that both of them have scheduling conflicts so they cannot go to finals if they break. So, logically they were gonna throw the match. We are about 10 minutes out from the debate and they decide that they don't want to throw the match, they want to forfeit all together. So they get up and leave. As the open the door to the staircase my partner asks for one of their names again, and the boy simply says: "I'm Killian. It's Irish for handsome." And he walks away, never to be seen again.
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The Time My Coach Got Another Coach Fired
First off, I'm a public forum first speaker in a district within a state that contains 2 of the top 15 schools in the nation. So state is always really tough for us. My partner and I made it to state in our second year, which was great. We go through our first round, and all is well. It is second round when everything goes to shit. We walk in, and the judge blatantly tells both teams that he will not be listening to crossfire at all (a huge no no in PF world). And then throughout the debate proceeds to be texting the whole time. Afterwards we go to my coach, tell him the name of the judge and he gets pissed. Turns out, this judge is one of the head coaches at one of the top schools in the state. And our coach goes immediately to the tournament director, demands that the round be effectively counted as a by, and that the judge be removed from the tournament, all the while crying (because that's what our coach does sometimes) In the end, not only is the man removed from the tournament, but he is fired from his coaching position. Our coach comes up to us afterwards and says: "One thing you need to know about me boys, I'm a bit of a bitch."
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