LAGNIAPPE:  A few tidbits to tide you over:

• Heather Powell remembers the 1983 Bee.
• Raf Noboa's essay on finishing third in the 1991 Bee, the only nationals he entered.
• Samir Patel explains what it's like to come back for a fifth time.
• Mary Ann Grisham describes what this afternoon is like if your daughter is a finalist.

Primetime starts at 8pm eastern.  The nine championship finalists are profiled here.

added: Samir talks to Texas Monthly, plugs us, and predicts:

All the spellers remaining have proven to be very competent. They all have different things going for them. For example, Nicholas Rushlow, he’s a five-time repeater, right? So he has lots of experience. Arvind Mahankali, number 162, I believe he came in third last year. You can expect him to put in a good showing as well. Then there’s Frank Cahill, number 30. He is a first timer but has a coach who has won nationals and he looks impressive. For someone who is there his first time, he’s asking all the right questions. So, you know, I think there are a lot of impressive spellers. We’ll just see what happens tonight.

SPEAK & SPELL: They have changed the Bee process for 2008. Gone is the first-day written round of which we were big fans. Instead, at some point during the past three days (of their choosing), our spellers had this to deal with:

In the Round One test, spellers will spell 50 words using a computer keyboard. Only 25 of the 50 spellings will count toward each speller’s Preliminaries score. The 25 words that count toward a speller’s Preliminaries score were labeled “score words” by Bee officials prior to May 25, but score word status will not be apparent to a speller taking the Round One test. Bee officials will publicly identify score words following the conclusion of the Preliminaries on Thursday, May 29. A sample test was available to all spellers through a secure Web site prior to Bee Week.

The test will be proctored by a member of the Bee’s staff. Dr. Bailly will not appear in person at the test; instead, spellers will hear a recording of Dr. Bailly delivering the word information (just as in the sample test available to spellers prior to Bee Week). The test has no time limit, and spellers are given multiple opportunities to review their answers and word information prior to submitting their final answers. Access to the testing room during open testing hours will be restricted to spellers who are taking the test, Bee officials, staff, and crew.

Other items today:

1. There are lots of neat strategies for the Bee, but I can't say I'm a fan of moving to another school district primary for the purpose of preserving your son's eligibility for a second trip to D.C., even if it does mean he's now competing against his younger brother this week.


2. Not only is New Zealand represented this year, but so too are spellers from South Korea and Ghana.


3. New Mexico's Matthew Evans is back for a fifth straight year after his third straight battle against Rajat Singh. This time, "The clock struck noon when Singh was given trichinosis."


4. Tia Thomas of the Fresno area is your other five-timer. She'll be wearing #13 this year, but is no triskaidekaphobe. Thomas read the complete Book of Mormon between the ages of 5 and 6, and has now read the entire Webster's unabridged cover-to-cover seven times.


5. If you haven't read it already, or haven't committed it to memory, do take a few minutes to review guest blogger Rafael Noboa's account of his 1991 Bee experience. It's one of my favorite things we've ever published here.
   

FOOFARAW: Before we leave the topic, 1991 fourth-place finisher Rafael Noboa has some final thoughts on fixing the National Spelling Bee:

First, thanks for having me. It was a blast. I, frankly, hadn't paid much attention to the NSB since I competed, but watching those kids compete yesterday and today, I felt like I was back there, in 1991.

About the bee: I'd consider many things, but the first thing I'd consider would be a reduction in competitors. Ideally, you'd have two representatives from all 50 states, the territories (including the district), and then English-speaking countries. The numbers of competitors has ballooned since I competed, and it's gotten to be a bit ridiculous.

By cutting down on the numbers of competitors, you have a tighter, better organized bee. I think it would eliminate the need for a written test, and you'd have a more natural pacing, with the spoken rounds taking as long as they needed to take. You wouldn't have a bloodbath round where spellers are required to spell words correctly more or less randomly. The competition would still take two days, most likely, but I think it would be a better competition.

The level of pressure is simply brutal. Brutal. It was intense when I was there, but, now, with prime time coverage, I can't even imagine what it must be like. Amanda mentioned the litigiousness of the parents when the Samir Patel foofaraw erupted; with TV coverage, and fame (such as it is), said litigiousness is amplified. A change I would make there would be that the only person authorized to make a challenge to a spell-out is the speller's sponsor. I got the feeling all throughout that minor scrape that the person who really wanted Samir back in there was his mom (who was also his coach, much like my dad coached me). That Samir wanted to continue competing I'll grant; but he admitted to Stuart Scott that he out-thought himself, and it just reeked of sour grapes. There's winning like a champion, true; but there's also losing like a champion. Samir didn't lose like one. Actually, I take that back--he would've, except that his mom didn't let him.

I guess what I'm looking for is for the bee to be fun. I totally got the impression that, for many of these kids, spelling was anything but. Samir (I go back to him--he competed five times, and yet, his demeanor was so joyless) apologizing for losing -- what for? Sure, his father quickly told him not to worry, but that he felt he had to apologize at all was off-putting. I read and heard stories of kids practicing upwards of six hours -- and I know it happens, because I saw it happen with my own eyes!

When I competed, some of my fellow spellers were goggle-eyed at me, because I hardly practiced at all that week. I'd like to say it was because I was care-free, but it wasn't; it was because I was jittery and full of nervous energy. I wanted to get the whole thing done and over with. It was the first time I ever spent time around people who were involved in monastic, ascetic studying -- the kind where you pore over things for hours on end -- and it blew my mind. I couldn't do that; life was too entertaining, there's too much to do!

I'm sure there's other things that need fixing, but these are just random thoughts, off the top off my head.

Oh, and one last thing -- well, two.

First, play-by-play is almost superfluous for something like this. You really just want to give way to the tension and majesty of the moment. If you're not going to do play-by-play and color right, don't do it at all. Or else, cut out some of the wannabe Olympics personal stories out, and do analysis with that time. Personally, I think you keep the stories in and the analysis out.

Second, please, please, please -- enough with the commercials. Show the whole finals, even if it's on the Deuce. Something live is better than something old. I know Texas Hold 'Em is yippie-kay-yay and all, but only when it's live. Showing the '02/'03/'06 WSOP over and over, ad infinitum, amen, gets old. You show the finals, live across the nation, not tape-delay pretending to be live.

Third (okay, okay, I fibbed), instead of having Stuart Scott or Mike & Mike, have some former spellers sit in for those three. If we're good enough to (not really) do color, we're good enough to do the sideline bit that Stuart was doing and whatever the bloody deuce those two morning show lummoxes were doing. Who knows -- we couldn't ask worse questions than Stuart, or be any more unintentionally condescending than Mike & Mike.

LAGNIAPPE: A few of my favorite pieces from Bees past:

• Samir Patel on what it's like to be the "Tony Romo" of the Bee and life after the Bee.
• Catherine Cojocaru on being a primetime finalist.
• Raf Noboa on his surprising run in the 1991 Bee.
• JJ Goldstein checks in with a number of Bee veterans.
• Via Heather, President Reagan's remarks upon greeting the 1983 Bee finalists.

See you at 8pm EDT.

"I GAVE IT THE BEST SHOT I COULD": While we're waiting for prime time, I wanted to share something from the Comments that you may have missed. Rafael Noboa, who's been active in the threads, placed fourth in the 1991 Bee. Here's what he has to say about it:

I moved to the U.S. in 1985, from Puerto Rico; my first language wasn't English, it was Spanish. My family moved to New Haven, where I competed in my first spelling bee a year later (in Spanish). From New Haven, we moved to Granville, OH, where I ended up spending the rest of my childhood.

Anyway, I competed in bees all through middle school, but I never even won a classroom bee until my 8th-grade year. I won that one, then I won the school bee, then I won the Columbus Dispatch regional bee to punch a ticket to nationals. I guess I got on a streak.

I didn't really start preparing or practicing until I made it to nationals. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. I'd practiced like crazy all the other times, and it didn't work out, so I figured, why mess with success? When my dad and I started prepping for the bee, we didn't engage in rote memorization so much as we played with words, studied what they meant, learned where they came from. To this day, I think the reason I've got such a large vocabulary comes from the preparation that I engaged in in the spring of 1991.

I practiced about 2 hours a day, sometimes more, but not much more than that. Bee prep had to be squeezed in with my violin practice, and my parents actually took that more seriously. The attitude that my parents had was, if you practice spelling, that's great, and if you don't, that's on you.

This caused a rather sudden shock when I made it to DC. I distinctly remember that lots of my fellow spellers (and their parents!) were really, really, really intense about this. That intensity just weirded me out.

Now, this is 1991, so, to my memory, the bee just wasn't a big deal. I mean, it was a big deal to me, but it's nothing like what it is now. We were all in the ballroom of the Capital Hilton (don't know if that's where it still happens), but everyone wore their own clothes. You didn't have a uniform like you have now. I remember that I wore my "lucky" sweater (the one that I wore when I won in Columbus, and in school).

I don't remember there being a written test. I remember there were something like 100-150 of us, and the whole competition was spoken. There definitely weren't any international spellers--every speller was from either a state or a territory.

I wasn't nervous at all--until the fourth round. I think the word I had was autochtonous, and I totally guessed on it. I steeled myself for the bell to ring, and when it didn't, I did a little fist pump. After that, I was fine, even when I misspelled my final word--plutogoguery, which I spelled plutogogary. I knew how to spell it, too -- I was tired, and I wasn't concentrating. So the bell rang. I sighed, then I went to the reader's table and shook his hand. I remember there was a lot of applause. I headed to the kiss-and-cry room after that.

When I got there, I noticed that there were a lot of spellers crying, people yelling, that sort of thing. I didn't. I guess the overwhelming feeling I had was relief, because it was all over. I was sad, because I wanted to win--I'm a really competitive person--but my relief at finally being able to relax outweighed that sadness. My mom and dad and my sponsor met me there. They were all expecting me to be upset, so I shocked them when they saw that I wasn't. They kept on asking me if I was okay, and I kept on telling them that I was fine -- I gave it the best shot I could.

Afterwards, I went back out to the ballroom, and saw Joanne (the '91 champion) and the runner-up go toe-to-toe for like an hour. That's the only time I kicked myself, because that's when it really sunk in that I could've won.

And now?

Well, in a way, I'm glad I didn't win. I look at the profiles that Time did of the winners between '86 and '92 (congrats, Amanda!), and I look at what they've accomplished. Joanne is studing neo-natology. Amanda's a lawyer, as are others.

Me, I'm just now finishing my bachelor's. I went to school, dropped out, joined the Army, went to war in Iraq, and I'm working in politics, doing what I love. I feel like I've accomplished a lot in my life, but if I had won in '91, and Time had profiled me, I get the feeling that people would have said, "he peaked at age 14", when I don't feel that's the case at all. I feel like I'm hitting my stride now, at age 30.

As for the bee ... I'm glad I competed. I really don't keep in touch with anyone, except for a couple of folks. That's not by choice -- if I could, I would. I just don't have their contact information.

No one I work with, and none of my friends -- not even my ex-wife--knows I competed in the bee. It's my little secret. I don't see it as germane to any conversation I have. People think I'm a good writer and have a big vocabulary because I read a lot (which I always have). I'm a good writer and I have an extensive vocabulary because I had a chance to go to the bee, and I took advantage of it.

I FEEL LIKE I'M HITTING MY STRIDE NOW: We first published this essay from our friend and Bee contributor Rafael Noboa two years ago. He's since gone on to complete his bachelor's degree, and works as a new media specialist for an international labor organization. But first, in 1991, there was the Bee, in which he finished in fourth place:
* * *I moved to the U.S. in 1985, from Puerto Rico; my first language wasn't English, it was Spanish. My family moved to New Haven, where I competed in my first spelling bee a year later (in Spanish). From New Haven, we moved to Granville, OH, where I ended up spending the rest of my childhood.

Anyway, I competed in bees all through middle school, but I never even won a classroom bee until my 8th-grade year. I won that one, then I won the school bee, then I won the Columbus Dispatch regional bee to punch a ticket to nationals. I guess I got on a streak.

I didn't really start preparing or practicing until I made it to nationals. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. I'd practiced like crazy all the other times, and it didn't work out, so I figured, why mess with success? When my dad and I started prepping for the bee, we didn't engage in rote memorization so much as we played with words, studied what they meant, learned where they came from. To this day, I think the reason I've got such a large vocabulary comes from the preparation that I engaged in in the spring of 1991.

I practiced about 2 hours a day, sometimes more, but not much more than that. Bee prep had to be squeezed in with my violin practice, and my parents actually took that more seriously. The attitude that my parents had was, if you practice spelling, that's great, and if you don't, that's on you.

This caused a rather sudden shock when I made it to DC. I distinctly remember that lots of my fellow spellers (and their parents!) were really, really, really intense about this. That intensity just weirded me out.

Now, this is 1991, so, to my memory, the bee just wasn't a big deal. I mean, it was a big deal to me, but it's nothing like what it is now. We were all in the ballroom of the Capital Hilton (don't know if that's where it still happens), but everyone wore their own clothes. You didn't have a uniform like you have now. I remember that I wore my "lucky" sweater (the one that I wore when I won in Columbus, and in school).

I don't remember there being a written test. I remember there were something like 100-150 of us, and the whole competition was spoken. There definitely weren't any international spellers --every speller was from either a state or a territory.

I wasn't nervous at all -- until the fourth round. I think the word I had was autochtonous, and I totally guessed on it. I steeled myself for the bell to ring, and when it didn't, I did a little fist pump. After that, I was fine, even when I misspelled my final word-- plutogoguery, which I spelled plutogogary. I knew how to spell it, too -- I was tired, and I wasn't concentrating. So the bell rang. I sighed, then I went to the reader's table and shook his hand. I remember there was a lot of applause. I headed to the kiss-and-cry room after that.

When I got there, I noticed that there were a lot of spellers crying, people yelling, that sort of thing. I didn't. I guess the overwhelming feeling I had was relief, because it was all over. I was sad, because I wanted to win -- I'm a really competitive person -- but my relief at finally being able to relax outweighed that sadness. My mom and dad and my sponsor met me there. They were all expecting me to be upset, so I shocked them when they saw that I wasn't. They kept on asking me if I was okay, and I kept on telling them that I was fine -- I gave it the best shot I could.

Afterwards, I went back out to the ballroom, and saw Joanne (the '91 champion) and the runner-up go toe-to-toe for like an hour. That's the only time I kicked myself, because that's when it really sunk in that I could've won.

And now?

Well, in a way, I'm glad I didn't win. I look at the profiles that Time did of the winners between '86 and '92 (congrats, Amanda!), and I look at what they've accomplished. Joanne is studing neo-natology. Amanda's a lawyer, as are others.

Me, I'm just now finishing my bachelor's. I went to school, dropped out, joined the Army, went to war in Iraq, and I'm working in politics, doing what I love. I feel like I've accomplished a lot in my life, but if I had won in '91, and Time had profiled me, I get the feeling that people would have said, "he peaked at age 14", when I don't feel that's the case at all. I feel like I'm hitting my stride now, at age 30.

As for the bee ... I'm glad I competed. I really don't keep in touch with anyone, except for a couple of folks. That's not by choice -- if I could, I would. I just don't have their contact information.

No one I work with, and none of my friends -- not even my ex-wife -- knows I competed in the bee. It's my little secret. I don't see it as germane to any conversation I have. People think I'm a good writer and have a big vocabulary because I read a lot (which I always have). I'm a good writer and I have an extensive vocabulary because I had a chance to go to the bee, and I took advantage of it.

BLOND V. BLANCHE:  Our occasional Spelling Bee correspondent Rafael Noboa has penned for Deadspin a 32-nation analysis for the World Cup of Beer, with multiple recommendations per entrant. For Sam's Army, he recommends:

Captain Hickenlooper's Flying Artillery Ale (Wynkoop Brewing Company) | Just as the U.S. roster is diverse, so is its beer scene. There are too many to choose from, so I went with the one I was drinking when Landon Donovan scored his penultimate World Cup goal to lift the U.S. into the knockout rounds of the 2010 World Cup: Captain Hickenlooper's Flying Artillery Ale. Named after the brewery owner and current Governor, this is a smooth brown ale, possessed of a malty palate with a lingering sweet finish. Do yourself a favor: wherever you are, toast our men with the local brew of your choice. Other options: Too many to count—Bear Republic Red Rocket Ale, Buckeye 76 IPA, Sierra Nevada Flipside Red IPA, Lagunitas DayTime, New Glaurus Dancing Man Wheat. Pick one of these and leave the Bud for another time. Or never.

S-E-G-U-E: I can't thank enough all my co-bloggers -- including special guests Shonda Rhimes of Grey's Anatomy/Private Practice fame and former National Bee finalists Heather Powell and Rafael Noboa, as well as the former champions, finalists and parents thereof who showed up in the comments -- for making our fifth annual National Spelling Bee live-blog such a delight.

I started doing this in 2003 because Lucy had just been born and I was home, and it was on tv, and I was watching, and I couldn't believe some kids were getting Round 1 words like "email" in the same round that others were getting dinged on "phthisiology". (The first speller that day? 2006 champion Kerry Close.) And here we are, and next year, come Memorial Day Week, we'll be back with more live coverage, though we'll be sure throughout the year to highlight news items as they come over the transom.

In the meantime, however, we don't exactly go silent, so do feel free to stick around for the other fifty-one weeks, where we tackle things like today's release of the exceedingly well-reviewed Knocked Up, starring Seth Rogen and Grey's Anatomy star Katherine Heigl. Seriously, is anyone reading this blog not totally eager to see this movie, like, right now?