Atlanta

Surprised to find me still here? Frankly, so was I.

I could already have graduated the previous year, and by now I was no longer even at the university. But the problem was much the same as in 2016: once I left, the student-coach position was suddenly vacant. The red-rated star stepped in, but a few issues involving our systems still drew me back. Michigan had its own judging system, built years earlier by my former student coach—an impressive achievement in itself. We had used it for years. It was basic, but remarkably complete.

I did not contribute much that year. I barely knew who the contestants were and did not attend the regional in person. What made the year different was the arrival of the North America Championship, or NAC. Previously, teams had qualified for the World Finals directly through the regional contests. Beginning that year, NAC added an intermediate stage. Each regional sent several of its leading teams; in ours, I believe it was roughly the top five.

This was the first NAC. As I remember it, regional contests still retained a direct qualification place at the time: the champion advanced automatically, while the remaining places were decided through NAC. A few years later, the regionals no longer had direct places and every team had to qualify through NAC. There was even a later occasion when a central region that had once sent four teams—allocations at the time depended on participation and other factors—saw every one of its teams eliminated at NAC, with none reaching the World Finals. In the years after the NAC system began, our region reliably sent three teams, sometimes more. It became rather easy to see which regions had not been quite as competitive as they thought.

The top five from our regional could reach NAC. That sounded almost too easy. There was hardly any pressure at all.

And indeed, the team qualified without difficulty. I followed Michigan to the inaugural NAC. I shared a room with one of the contestants, so my lodging cost nothing. I do not know whether there was an entry fee; whatever expenses existed, the university paid them. I did pay for my own flights, however. Officially, I was no longer at the university.

The overall schedule resembled the World Finals and lasted nearly a week. I had just started working, did not have that much leave, and had little involvement with the contest anyway. So I arrived midway through the event.

Under normal circumstances, someone would meet arrivals at the airport during the official arrival window. I apparently arrived too late. There was nobody at the airport and nobody at the metro station. I took the train to the contest venue by myself.

This was the hotel provided for the contest.

It was rather striking.

Contest day soon arrived. The competition hall was vast and open.

My impression was that NAC did not have many teams—perhaps a little over fifty—so it did not really need a venue this large. The organizers appeared to have arranged the room in a way that made the space look fully occupied.

During the contest, I spent most of my time discussing the problems with Michigan’s student coach, the red-rated star. It felt much like every other contest. Five hours looks long on paper, but at the venue it disappears remarkably quickly.

As for the result—well, never mind. I was not even entirely sure who was on the team. The only contestant with whom I had much connection was American Three, who was apparently still there.

We did not qualify, which was more or less what I expected. If reaching the World Finals had been that easy, what exactly had I spent all those earlier years doing as a coach?

Looking back much later, however, there was little to regret. The World Finals associated with that season was subsequently delayed substantially by the pandemic. Even if Michigan had qualified, I probably could not have attended because of my U.S. visa. The circumstances were very similar to the Bangladesh year; the full story is in the Egypt World Finals entry.