NYC-Feature Story

He Speaks, He Scores!
Hopeless in gym, I found my competitive edge in debate

By Daniel Kingsley

The other team's player had nearly blown us away. We needed to recover and fast. We'd held onto our precious trophy for the past four seasons. No school was going to take it from us.

I glanced around quickly. None of my teammates were going to lunge themselves, body and soul, for the pass. It looked like I, the rookie freshman, had to be the one.

Instinctively, my hand went up.

"Senator Kingsley," said the presiding officer, "you have the floor."

"Thank you," I said as I got up from my desk and strolled to the front of the classroom. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the Student Congress," I began.

Flunked Gym Twice

Speech and debate is one of high school's least understood and least respected extracurricular activities. "Urkel had more style than you," a friend said after I told him I was a member of my school's speech team.

I joined speech and debate in my freshman year at Cathedral Prep, during an activities assembly held in Cathedral's auditorium. As I moved from table to table looking at the activities my high school had to offer, I recognized the clubs I couldn't sign up for unless hell froze over: those that involved physical activity, a.k.a. athletics.

Visions of my middle school report card flashed through my mind. To this day I wonder how in God's creation I could flunk gym class twice in one year. Then again, if you saw the way I shot a basketball you'd have wanted to shoot me and release me from my misery.

The problems started early on. Growing up, I wasn't attracted to the glamour of sports. I never mastered how to ride a bicycle or use roller-skates-which, when I was younger, I didn't care much about. But as I grew older, my lack of interest and skills could sometimes shame me beyond all verbal telling and human thought. My lowest moments came in gym class.

I Ran Fast-From Bullies

In gym, whenever teams were selected, I was picked last, along with other socially undesirable people, such as Fresh-Off-the-Boat Pedro, Fat Albert, and Left-Back-Again Jamaal.

Although the non-English speaker, the overweight, and the academically deficient might have been great athletes, the social hierarchy of middle school rules that no one wants you on their sports team if you don't fit in. It was only due to pity and the gym teacher's insistence that the untouchables were selected for any teams at all.

But I too would have picked myself last. One particular event raised me to super-untouchable status. The gym coach gave the class of some 20-odd boys turns to shoot baskets. I made nearly six attempts and failed utterly each time. While I struggled, I heard the sucking of teeth and the almost silent shock at my pitiful display.

There was one sport at which I might have excelled. Running away from bullies, like Crazy LaToya, Run-his-Mouth Marcus, Insecure Rashaan, and Ex-Best-Friend-Turned-Backstabber Adonis, and from impromptu stampedes in the halls, had enabled me to scoot at a moment's notice.

But when I wasn't running for my life, my athleticism was really very bad. I was the laughingstock of gym class.

Still Wanted to Compete

Being athletically hapless made me feel inferior to my more physically-fit peers. When I was feeling low, I worshipped the super-jocks as if they were deities among untouchable mortals like myself. (At age, 15, thank God, I now know better.)

Deep down, though, I knew that not knowing how to balance myself on a bicycle or roller-skate faster than an old man with a walker did not define me as a human being.

But my athletic limitations also limited my outlets for competition. Although I couldn't connect a bat to a baseball or sink a basket, I still had a strong desire to compete.

Having been the underdog for so long I wanted to feel what it was like to be on top. It's human to want to be particularly good at something, and be publicly recognized for it. Being publicly incompetent in gym made me want to prove myself even more strongly.

Debate Public Breastfeeding?

When I was 14, I gained that true sense of competition. Not on the athletic fields, but on the sacred floor of speech and debate.

There, I competed against other debaters as I tried to advance my position on different issues, from gay marriage to affirmative action.

In October 2003, I attended my first debate at Christ the King HS in Middle Village, Queens. That day the topic at hand was the outlawing of public breastfeeding.

"Of all the issues in the modern world," I'd thought when I'd first heard the topic, "I can't believe they chose public breastfeeding for discussion." What could I, an adolescent boy, say about this issue, and how would it ever affect me?

But then I learned that a woman had been either fined or threatened with arrest for breastfeeding her newborn child in the subway. As I listened to my teammates discuss the topic, I realized that I didn't see anything filthy about a woman breastfeeding her child.

In the evening, I talked to my father, who is from Africa, where women breastfeed in public more often than they do here. He said he thought we must live in a sex-crazed society if people see a woman breastfeeding in public as somehow unclean.

Violated Every Law of Speech

As I pondered all this, I grew more sure of my position, and more certain that I would be able to communicate it eloquently.

But when it came time to make my speech, I was as nervous as a sinner in church. And when I opened my mouth, I think I violated every law of speech that Mr. Russo, moderator of Cathedral's speech team and prefect of students, had taught me.

My mouth hung open, and when words finally came out, they were completely garbled. I'm sure no one understood a thing I said.

I felt pretty badly afterward, and humiliated too. But, unlike gym, where I tried and tried again and never got any better, I believed I could master debate. I had strong opinions, and I'd made clear arguments plenty of times before for class papers and in the school newspaper.

In the weeks before our second debate, I paid attention to Mr. Russo's advice and tried to emulate the speaking styles of my teammates every time we had practice. Sometimes I became the butt of their jokes. But other times I got positive feedback.

A Precious Plastic Trophy

From them, I learned how to pace myself and use emotion to emphasize my point. I'll never forget the day Mr. Russo explained to me that it's not good to leave my mouth hanging open when I forget what I was going to say. After that, I learned how to just go on talking.

At home, I wrote out speeches on the subjects we'd be debating, which included whether the U.S. should continue to give aid to Israel, and what the effects of the Internet are on democracy. I recited them in front of my mother and the mirror, making sure to speak with clear and precise pronunciation.

At my second debate, I scored an eighth-place trophy. True, it was a plastic trophy. But I am proud of it.

My teammates, Mr. Russo, and even the moderator commented on my rapid improvement after the travesty of my first debate. Over time, I grew more confident and excited at the prospect of defending my opinions and at my ability to handle the pressure of the competition.

Through the 2003-2004 speech season, I earned six trophies. I was the only freshman on the team to have won so many and to qualify for the State Championships. In gym class, I'd always felt like a dork. In speech and debate, it felt good to know what I was doing. The passion and thrill I felt helped me see beyond my total lack of athletic ability.

Mocking That Motivates

I learned another thing about competition that I had never realized in gym class-the value of a team. In gym class, a team always seemed like a group of people brought together for the sole purpose of mocking me. But last season I got to where I was through the encouragement, constructive criticism, and even the downright harsh comments of my teammates.

After I'd given a speech on space exploration, for instance, my teammate Adam said, "Daniel, oil can't be found on the moon, since there's no life on it." He was right-oil comes from the remains of plants and animals. This blunder became a recurring joke on the team.

But mocking from my speech buddies was a lot easier to deal with than the mocking in gym, because my abilities were on par with the older guys on the team. Watching out for fact errors was a lot easier than dribbling a basketball. My teammates' criticism encouraged me to move forward without fear of falling flat on my face, even if I screwed up the facts beyond all reason.

That's what keeps me looking forward to the 2004-05 season. This year I am ready to tackle issues like the death penalty and homeland security, with the right facts at hand. I'm expecting another great season on the debate floor-with a little help from my team.