[Day 262] Oh, boy

See that big shiny trophy thing there? That was my first- and only- first place debate trophy. I got it last year right before Christmas Break with Bart as my partner, and it meant a lot to me. It meant so much, in fact, that I wrote my college entrance essay on it. Here:

My younger brother’s closet is lined with trophies. Swimming trophies, golf trophies, baseball trophies, and tennis trophies. My shelves, up until my junior year of high school, held two; a “Most Improved” trophy for swimming (a.k.a. The Pity Trophy) and a participation trophy for softball (a.k.a. The Great Job At Sitting In Left Field And Eating Sunflower Seeds Trophy). While my brother excelled at nearly everything, school as well as sports, I spent my time arguing with people and writing depressing poetry, two activities that had a very low chance of yielding the trophies and recognition I so desired.

During my junior year of high school I joined the debate team, figuring I’d had enough practice arguing to do a little damage. I grabbed my best friend, also looking at joining debate, as my partner, and an incredible team was born. We took first at the novice debate tournament, although we only got certificates for that feat. After that, we were unstoppable. Our inexperience cost us one debate per tournament, but our steadily growing number of victories soon paid off.

Our first overnight tournament was at Moffat High School in Craig, Colorado. We only planned on staying one night, but by the end of the second day of debating, Colorado winter weather was terrorizing all major roads. At debate tournaments, you don’t know if you’ve won or lost until the very end of the second day, at the awards ceremony, so leaving early wasn’t really an option. When my partner and my event came up, I clutched his arm anxiously. Ordinarily, the tournament director would call up the top six teams or competitors in that event and then announce the rankings from the lowest up, but because of the weather, Moffat’s coach just called out the teams to have them run on stage.

“For public forum debate, in sixth place…” Not us. Once he announced the third place team, I relaxed my hold on my partner’s arm. There was no way we, as novices, had gotten placed higher than third at such a large tournament.

“And in first place, for public forum debate, the team of Bart and Bri.” (they didn’t actually say that. I took last names out for this blog)

I’m going to be honest, I think I blacked out for the next five minutes. I only remember screaming and tackling my partner, almost losing my high heels during our mad dash onto the stage, and being hugged by my two teary debate coaches. Back in my seat, all I could do was stare at that first place trophy. In the back of my mind, I knew I had to give it to my coach to display back at our school instead of on my own shelves, but that didn’t dampen my sudden euphoria. I had accomplished something. I not only participated, but excelled. I hadn’t earned this award out of pity, but hard work. Holding that trophy with the “1^st” on top slightly bent backwards, I realized I didn’t have to compete with my brother any more for recognition. Debate was my activity, and this accomplishment was my own. This was my trophy, my work, and my moment.