It is a bit unseemly, I suppose, to pile on Russia now. Having been caught meddling with our election and cheating during past Olympics, their reputation could hardly get worse. Yet the metaphor of the Russian judge — meaning a person who brings a strong bias to a process that is supposed to be marked by disinterested fairness and good judgment – is almost irresistible to me at this juncture. Indeed, the metaphor has been throbbing in my brain these past weeks as I have marveled at the scores awarded to figure skaters and Big Air snowboarders.

Let me explain. I recently completed a revision of our paper on terminal investment by male loons: the most remarkable finding we have made in 25 years of research. (This is the paper showing that males become highly aggressive and territorial at the same time that their health, survival, and territory defense is declining.) Praised by three reviewers at a prestigious journal, our paper was blocked from acceptance by a fourth reviewer who insisted that we complete a complex statistical analysis to check our results. Review of scientific articles is almost always anonymous, as in this case, so we cannot know the reviewer’s identity or the reason for his/her objection. But my study of his/her statistical point convinced me that it was mistaken. Yet, the editor disregarded my carefully-crafted refutation and chose to support the reviewer. Of course, it is immensely frustrating for an author when an editor sides with a stubborn reviewer. This outcome forced us into a difficult decision: 1) kowtow to the reviewer by reworking our statistical analysis needlessly, which would have entailed a lengthy delay in publication and cost us perhaps $2000 to hire a statistical consultant, or 2) pull the plug on the submission that seemed on the brink of acceptance, pending completion of that difficult statistical revision. I hope I made the right call by withdrawing the paper and sending it to a new journal.

Two factors played a role in my decision to withdraw the paper that, perhaps, should not have. First, I have spent many months polishing this paper and am reaching the end of my rope with it. I am certain that it is sound statistically and likely to be impactful in my field, if I can just navigate the stormy seas of reviewer opinion. Second, I must soon turn my attention to acquiring new research funding and must have this paper in print in order to demonstrate to funding agencies that the past funds they have sent to me have been well spent. Thus, I have chosen to send the paper to a solid – but not highly prestigious – journal in my field, hoping to find a fast track to publication.

I am not the first person to make a decision to publish a great paper in a low-impact journal in order to keep the wheels of research turning. Each paper, in my experience, follows its own journey. A pedestrian paper sometimes catches a wave and ends up in a lofty journal, only to be scoffed at and forgotten in short order. And cool papers sometimes fall into low‑impact journals, are discovered by many scientists, and become classics. Let’s hope the terminal investment paper falls into the latter category.