Success in SPAMTA
It was 2013. I was a college senior, competing in undergraduate mock trial.
Before most rounds, I had a ritual.
Other teams would frantically shuffle papers, review objections, and wait for judges.
I would sing Frozen.
Not the official “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?”
My version was “Do You Want to Frame Whit Bowman?” (who happened to be the defendant in our case that year).
(These parodies were pretty popular back then.)
I sang for a few reasons.
First, I was anxious, and singing calmed me down.
Second, I believed it sent a message: this isn’t life or death. We’re here to compete, but also to have fun.
I wouldn’t force it on teammates, but if people were up for it, so was I.
And it worked. We repeatedly won something called SPAMTA (the Spirit of the American Mock Trial Association). It’s the award for the most liked, most civil, most kind team at a tournament, voted on by your peers.
I lost that gold necktie. I wish I knew where.
We won it at regionals. In Los Angeles. In Irvine. In the South. In New York.
We didn’t win it at nationals. One of the teams we top-rated won instead. Even though we took home the national championship trophy, I’ve always wished we’d been just a little nicer and less nervous so that every opponent liked us.
(I was really stressed and forgot to offer a character evidence form in the first round. I bet that was it.)
Why SPAMTA Matters
Some people see SPAMTA as a consolation prize. But I don’t think it’s something you “just give” to the new nice team. It’s something top teams should actively strive for.
The two years we won nationals, 2011 and 2014, we did so because of the support of others.
We got advice about a fantastic UVA team from UC Santa Cruz because they’d seen them perform—and they liked us enough to share. We split that round +1, -3. Because of that +1, we made it to national finals.
We got scouting notes about Princeton (our finals opponent) from Arizona because we’d built that relationship. We won that final round on a 3-2 decision. One of the ballots was a mere +2.
Without that last-minute insight, we could have lost rounds we narrowly won.
That’s a lot of joy and not a lot of hair.
Kindness is a competitive advantage. You want people to root for you.
The Modern-Day Gap
Today, UCLA doesn’t win SPAMTA as often. Across dozens of tournaments in recent years, we’ve earned it maybe a handful of times.
We’ve been ranked #1 in competitive “team power rankings” the past three years, but something’s been lost: we’re not as friendly.
I really don’t like this.
UCLA is very good competitively. We were a single point on a single ballot away from national finals for the sixth time last season. But something is missing.
I think one of the reasons that UCLA is stalling just short of the gold is because we’re too in our own heads and not having enough fun with our future colleagues.
Close, but no cigar.
If our opponents see that we’re feeling stressed, they get stressed. We’re not having nearly as much fun.
I will note that the most successful programs in this 40+ team league consistently succeed because they have high-quality practices and scrimmages with their competitors.
Their good relationships with other programs open up more of these opportunities.
I remember this was in Shanghai. I don’t remember what this gesture was about.
I gave the keynote at the 2025 PPMT Championship in China, focusing on the Three Gs:
Goals – Do better every round, and make a new friend.
Growth – Grow the league.
Gratitude – Show real appreciation to those who give you opportunities.
At that event, kindness was competitive.
Normally, you can win this award with 27/30 points (9/10 rankings).
Here, 27 was the average.
Two teams earned perfect 30/30 scores—both were top-4 teams who faced each other, split rounds, and knocked each other out of finals. It was an unbreakable tie.
(I joked that we should do a Judgment of Solomon style choice where the team that gives up the trophy is the one who earns it, but we gave it to both.)
Don’t split the baby.
Victory wasn’t either-or—it was both-and.
A Role Model: Rand Meyer
I want to shout out a former student, Rand Meyer. I taught him in high school, where he was national champion in Storytelling as a junior.
He went to Northwestern, led his team to top national finishes and SPAMTA wins.
He was the first person ever invited to both the Witness and Attorney Tournaments of Champions.
At the end of his final contest, Rand earned a standing ovation at the awards ceremony. It lasted for minutes.
Rand embodied SPAMTA better than just about anybody I’d met.
He practiced:
Empathetic, active listening (so his compliments after a round were genuine, and he’d follow up later about your interests).
Fun rituals (hype chants, warm-ups between rounds).
The “van talk” rule (no insults or gossip on campus; save any negative debrief for the ride home).
A “Yes, and” mindset (building on jokes instead of shutting them down, knowing he’s good without ego, understanding the subjectivity of judging).
After his last round, I told Rand he’d never let me down. I meant it. Great guy.
UCLA, and every overly competitive program, has a lot to learn from him.
The Olaf Principle
Every contest—mock trial, speech, debate, Toastmasters—should have an award for civility or respect.
Frozen has Olaf: a character who’s beloved, positive, and fun. We could all use a little more Olaf in ourselves when we compete.
Winning is fine. But being remembered for the right reasons is legacy.
Trophies break. Certificates fade. Stories survive.
