Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel

by Michael Gerard Bauer

  A click came from the end of the table. Scobie’s head ducked down and was almost lost behind the screen.

  ‘Is it up, Scobes?’

  We could just make out James’s head bobbing up and down.

  ‘Well what is it? What’s it like? Come on, man, tell us.’

  Scobie slowly lowered the screen a little and sat back. His mouth was twisted off-centre.

  ‘This is going to be very interesting,’ he said. ‘We’re an all boys’ school, we’re up against an all girls’ school, two of the three adjudicators including the chief adjudicator are female, and our topic is …’

  Scobie clicked the lid of his laptop shut.

  ‘That Women Are the Weaker Sex. We’re … Affirmative.’

  For a moment it felt like someone had died. But it was really just our chances of winning suffering a near-fatal stroke.

  ‘But … how are we going to argue that?’ Bill asked.

  Scobie sent his mouth on a full circumnavigation of his face then gave his considered response.

  ‘Verwy, verwy carefullwy,’ he said.

  ‘You’re telling me, Scobes,’ Razz said. ‘Otherwise we’re gonna come out of this looking like a bunch of male chauffeuring pigs.’

  Ignatius didn’t even bother to object. All he said was, ‘Maybe you could read a passage from The Sun Safe Adventures of Britney and Amber to prove them wrong, Orazio?’

  Razz was going to respond but then he stopped and slapped his forehead.

  ‘Man, and I just thought of something else. The Wreckin’ Ball said she was coming to the final! We’re dead meat, dudes. Even if a miracle happens and we win, we’ll never get out of there alive.’

  ‘Well, let’s not get carried away, Orazio. We need to look at the positives. First of all, at least we know it’s true, don’t we? Women are the weaker sex, right?’

  We all nodded automatically.

  ‘Sure,’ said Razz.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Ignatius.

  ‘No question,’ said Bill.

  ‘It goes without saying,’ I added.

  We’d come a long way in debating since Year Nine. We never complained about a topic any more and Scobie had banned Razz from ever saying that we’d been given the ‘crap side’ of the argument. Now, whatever side we had, we automatically believed it with all our hearts.

  ‘Excellent!’ Scobie said. ‘Now that we are all agreed that women are in fact the weaker sex, we just have to work out why they are.’

  Everyone stared at their pens and fiddled with their notepads for a bit before Ignatius spoke up.

  ‘Well, if we are defining weak as in “not as powerful”, then when it comes to physical strength, on average, women are not as strong as men. Statistics from various power sports will prove that.’

  ‘Thank you, Ignatius. It’s a start, but we’re going to need much more than that. And keep in mind that saying women are less powerful than men is not the same thing as saying that women are inferior to men or less intelligent or less capable than men.’

  ‘No, no, we’re not saying that. Absolutely not,’ Razz said, laughing nervously as he checked quickly over both his shoulders, ‘because everybody knows that’s so totally not true. Isn’t that right, Ms Heckenvaal, just in case you’re listening in on some sort of spying device?’

  ‘Speaking of Ms Heckenvaal, Orazio, how do you think she would argue this topic?’

  ‘What, you mean after she printed it out from the web page and shoved it down the throat of whoever wrote it? Sorry, Scobes, I can’t see the Wreckin’ Ball ever agreeing that women are less powerful than …’

  Razz stopped as if he’d been struck on the back of the head.

  ‘Wait on. Miss did say stuff about women having less power … less influence … didn’t she?’

  James smiled and nodded.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. Isn’t that what all those Suffering Jets chicks were going on about? Women not having the right to vote … not having the same political power as men. And, and remember in that feminism stuff how we looked at all those countries where women still don’t have the same rights as men? We could use that, couldn’t we? Like how they’re sort of weaker that way?’

  The rest of us nodded along with Scobie and started scribbling on our notepads.

  ‘Hey, man, and I think I got another one! What about all that equal pay stuff and how women don’t get the top jobs? That’d make them less powerful too wouldn’t it?’

  Razz was really getting excited now.

  ‘And wait, wait, wait. There’s all that cultural and religious stuff we did too. Like how women are treated as inferior to men in some places and they can’t be priests and stuff. That reduces their power I reckon. I mean, didn’t Wreckin’ Ball say that the whole feminist thing was about women trying to get their fair share of power? And in a lot of places they still haven’t got it, right? We could use some of that stuff couldn’t we, Scobes?’

  Scobie didn’t answer immediately. He just started to clap slowly and firmly. ‘What a piece of work is a Razzman,’ he said.

  The rest of us joined in the applause. While James Scobie might have been able to paraphrase Hamlet, Orazio Zorzotto was never one to be outdone.

  ‘I am Razzman, hear me roar. My brain is too big to ignore!’

  As a sign of our appreciation we pelted him with pens and bits of screwed-up paper.

  20.

  GRACE UNDER PRESSURE

  The debating finals for all the various year levels were hosted by Preston College in their Performing Arts theatre. The Senior final was the last debate of the evening. The theatre was jam-packed.

  Both teams were lined up on opposite sides of the stage separated by the timekeeper’s and chairperson’s table. On the desks in front of us were pens and notepads as well as glasses and jugs of cold water. Behind us were big vases of flowers. The school banners and colours of St Daniel’s and Wesley College were draped on the back wall. We’d never been in a debate quite like this one.

  Scobie was sitting between Razz and me. That was our team for the Final. Bill and Ignatius were sharing timekeeping and chairperson duties with the Wesley reserves. It was great that the whole team got to be on stage together for our last-ever debate. We all looked pretty good too. We were wearing the special St Daniel’s school representatives jackets, which were navy blue with red trim. Thanks to Mrs Zorzotto, we also had red carnations in our lapels.

  I looked across at the Wesley girls. A single long-stemmed rose was sitting in front of each of them. The girl beside Bill was smelling hers and smiling. Those roses came from us. When we walked on stage a few minutes before, we introduced ourselves to our counterparts on the opposition team, shook hands, wished them luck and then presented them each with a rose. I don’t think it won us any points with the judges but the audience liked it. So did the Wesley girls I think, and as Scobie had kept reminding us in the lead-up to the night, ‘It’s our last debate – whatever the result, let’s go out in style. Like St Daniel in the lions’ den, we’ll show them grace under pressure.’

  ‘Going out in style’ and ‘grace under pressure’ had become our mantras for the night. That’s why we made sure our uniforms were Gerard Carlson-Steele perfect and it was also why our palm cards sat in three untouched, neat little bundles on the desks in front of us, each tied up with a thin blue ribbon. That was Scobie’s idea too. He said it would send the message to the opposition that we were confident, totally in control and fully prepared.

  At the last debating meeting when Scobie suggested we tie up our palm cards, I almost had a panic attack. I thought I’d be so nervous on the night, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself chewing off the ribbon and shuffling through my notes like a hyper-ventilating card shark. But it wasn’t like that at all. I’m not saying I was calm, but after I accepted that I wasn’t going to be able to look at my notes until the chairperson got up to start the debate, I stopped worrying about them and just let myself feel excited and happy about being there. It all seemed
like a bit of a miracle, especially after my first disastrous debate in Year Nine when I passed out on Kelly. For the first time ever, thinking about that made me smile. When I looked around at Razz and Scobie they were smiling too. So were Bill and Ignatius. I guess I wasn’t the only one feeling excited and happy.

  With minutes to go before we were due to start, the audience continued to build up. Quite a few people were now standing at the back and down the sides. I looked around for familiar faces. As well as quite a few St Daniel’s boys from our other debating teams and their supporters, Mum and Dad and Prue were there along with Prindabel’s parents, Mrs Zorzotto, Uncle Georgiou, Mrs Kingsley and Mr Scobie. They were all sitting together. In front of them was a bunch of teachers including Brother Jerome, Mr Barker, Mr Slattery, Mr Guthrie, Ms Heckenvaal and Miss Tarango.

  Razz nudged me and grinned knowingly when he saw Mr Guthrie shooting a few glances at Miss Tarango. She was a couple of seats away talking to Brother Jerome. Razz stopped grinning so much when Mr Barker leant over the back of his chair and started chatting with his mum. Judging by the size of the smile on Mrs Zorzotto’s face, I’d say she didn’t mind in the slightest.

  They weren’t the only familiar faces. Sally and Kelly were there too. They were up at the back of the theatre with Sally’s mum. They waved when they saw me looking. I gave them a quick wave back. I attempted to make it as stylish as possible. I even spotted Raychell Taylor, the girl who’d been my partner for the Year Eleven Semi-formal when she wasn’t off talking and laughing with other people or texting on her mobile. I was still spotting other faces I knew when the three adjudicators entered the theatre and took their seats.

  Razz leant into Scobie and me. ‘Not long now, guys,’ he said. ‘Are you ready to rock and roll, Ishmael?’

  We were Affirmative. I would be the first to speak. I nodded.

  ‘And dude, if you’re going to throw in one last faint for old time’s sake, could you make it after you’ve finished your speech this time, OK?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ I said and we all smiled in a stylish kind of way.

  ‘Oh, and I almost forgot, man. Young Prudles told me I had to give you this,’ he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. ‘She reckoned you might relax more if you knew exactly where it was.’

  He handed me an old wooden clothes peg with the head of one of the Beatles on it. The old Ringo peg person was in pretty good shape considering his last embarrassing appearance (via my shorts) was at a debate way back in Year Nine. I think Prue might have given his mop of hair a recent coat of black paint.

  I sought my little sister out in the audience. She was watching me and laughing. She was in Year Eleven now – not so little any more, I guess. I was smiling back at her and shaking my head when the chairperson from Wesley stood up and began officially welcoming everyone. Not long after, she was saying my name and calling upon me as first speaker for the Affirmative team to open the debate. My heart was pumping up a storm.

  I stood up, undid the ribbon from my palm cards, placed it on the desk and walked to the middle of the stage. When I got there I smiled at the audience, took a deep breath and began.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, madam chair, tonight my team will prove to you …’

  I reckon I must have looked pretty stylish standing up there, especially with the head of a Ringo peg person poking out proudly from the top pocket of my special St Daniel’s school representative jacket.

  21.

  A RAZZMAN MASTERCLASS

  I definitely had the easiest job of all the speakers on the night. As First Affirmative I had nothing to rebut from the opposition. I just had to state our theme, outline our overall case and then present the first of our arguments as clearly and persuasively as possible. That, and not turn into a stumbling, bumbling, freak show in front of a theatre packed with people who were intently boring their eyes into me.

  It was weird. It was almost like I was someone else, listening to my speech. I kept giving myself advice while I talked – slow down, take your time, you’re doing great, look at the audience, that’s it, remember to smile, speak loudly and clearly, pause and let those words sink in, use your gestures, really hit this point hard, not far to go, you’re almost there, big finish now, make sure you end strongly.

  When it was all over I sat down with the sound of applause drumming in my head. Razz and Scobie shook my hand and patted my back. I held on to the desk top. I felt so light I was scared I was going to float away. Everyone told me afterwards that I’d done really well. Raychell Taylor came up and said she couldn’t believe I was the same person she’d met last year. Maybe they were all just being super-nice, but I knew this much at least. I’d done my job and I’d done my best. I’d take that any day.

  But we were soon reminded that the Wesley girls weren’t in the grand final just to make up the numbers. Not for a second. Even though their first speaker looked like a ballerina, she came out swinging like a heavyweight. When she’d finished we weren’t exactly reeling on the ropes but she had landed quite a few telling blows and had clearly established her team’s claim for the title. Next up was Razz.

  After he was introduced, Razz stood and pushed his chair into the desk. As he walked behind me, he pulled Ringo from my top pocket and slid him into his own. I was watching the St Daniel’s supporters as he made his way to the centre of the stage. They looked tense and uneasy. Sally and Kelly were both leaning forward with their fingers covering their lips. Prue wasn’t watching at all. I couldn’t blame them for being nervous. It was a tricky topic, especially for Razz, and he did have a bit of a reputation for being a loose cannon. Not tonight. Tonight the Razzman was a high-tech, sophisticated piece of artillery locked on to a target. But he was still Razz.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this evening I am faced with a difficult task. I must attempt to convince you that women are the weaker sex while at the same time standing before three members of that very gender who frankly are making me weak at the knees.’

  None of us knew Razz was going to say that. But it worked. In the first few seconds of his speech he’d made the audience laugh and he’d won them over. And as much as they tried to resist, even the Wesley team weren’t totally immune. Their captain rolled her eyes and gave a pained smile. Their first speaker looked down and blushed. Their second speaker stared at Razz for a moment with what I’m fairly certain was the ‘game over’ look before she smothered it in a frown. Then Razz continued.

  ‘But tonight I must put my personal feelings aside, because the first speaker for the Negative team has put forward arguments that, while eloquent, clearly don’t stand up to close scrutiny.’

  Razz then rebutted each of the opposition’s arguments before showing how women often had less power and influence than men in three major areas – society as a whole, the political arena and the workplace. And he did it with oodles of charm and just the right amount of humour thrown in. It was a Razzman masterclass in style. Scobie and I applauded him to his seat. He was wearing a sizeable grin. It got even bigger when Ms Heckenvaal gave him two thumbs up.

  Then, of course, Wesley’s second speaker came in and threw our arguments back in our faces by saying that women had survived and flourished despite the inequalities and discrimination we had rightly pointed out, and that this was proof of their strength not their weakness.

  That’s how it went all night. We’d build something up that looked strong and indestructible and they’d come in and start tunnelling under the foundations and chiselling away at the brickwork and sawing through the support beams. Then they’d build something new and equally impressive in its place and we’d start on our own tunnelling, chiselling, sawing and rebuilding.

  The highlight of the debate was definitely the battle of the third speakers. Scobie had saved his best till last. He was like a ball of energy on stage, using everything he had to get us over the line, including a certain peg person poking from his pocket for good measure. After seven and a half minutes of intense work dismantling the oppositio
n’s case and restoring ours to pristine condition, Scobie concluded with this:

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, madam chair – my colleagues and I have not argued here tonight that the female of the species is in any way inferior to the male of the species. How could we,’ Scobie said, holding his hand towards the Wesley girls, ‘with such overwhelming evidence to the contrary? And we don’t deny the claims from the opposition that women have achieved great and remarkable things both as individuals and as a gender. But we still hold that they are the weaker sex, because as we have clearly demonstrated, in the political system, in the workplace, in the household, and in society at large, the power and influence of women have been, and continue to be, undermined and weakened by years of prejudice, discrimination and lack of opportunity. And ladies and gentlemen, my colleagues and I should know, because shamefully, it is our gender that has been largely responsible.’

  As final speaker for the night the Wesley captain was clinical and ruthless. She was the only debater I’d ever seen who’d even come close to matching it with Scobie. When it was all over, Bill and Ignatius joined us and we waited for the adjudicators’ decision. Razz was making jokes as usual and we were all waving and smiling at people in the crowd. Another ‘last’ was almost at an end. A big one – our last debate together. I thought I might feel sad, but I didn’t. I felt great. Not because it was all over, but because we got the chance to do it in the first place. And whether we won or lost nothing was going to take that feeling away.

  Just for the record, the chief adjudicator said it was a debating final of the ‘highest order’ and that she had never heard two finer third speakers in a school contest. She also said the decision was ‘agonisingly close’ and that in this case the old cliché was true and that ‘no one deserved to lose’.