...About My Magic Wand?

I know that close to one hundred percent of our audience here knows this already, but I am no ordinary muggle. Although I have spent no time at Hogwarts, I have close to ten years under my robe. I have cast exotic spells from faraway lands on two continents. I have slain many a monster and drawn energy from untold amounts of natural and unnatural resources. I have enlisted the help of goblins, elves, dragons, zombies, and plenty of other monsters in my eternal struggle versus other magicians. I have poisoned my foes, bashed them to death with blunt instruments, and burned them to a crisp. I am, of course, referring to my hobby, my passion, and one of the most important things to ever influence my life.

I began my magical journey as a brash young man. I had been playing tournaments for a short amount of time, but I was quickly growing to be a big fish in the small pond that was our local game store. Something to Do (now Something 2 Do) was the first place I had encountered the idea of a Magic: the Gathering tournament. They held weekly tournaments for a cash prize in front of the store, in the middle of the mall. After getting demolished the first few weeks, my friends and I began to figure things out. There was no restriction to the card pool for these events, so your deck (the weapon with which you fight) could be constructed from any of tens of thousands of cards, save a few that were deemed too overpowered for tournament play. The possibilities were staggering! I began reading about other tournaments with similar restrictions. I looked at decks others had used to claim victory. I read about degenerate card interactions and wondrous synergies. I was starting to see just how complex and deep tournament Magic really was.

As an amateur magician, I was at the beginning of a very long journey that would hopefully lead to a level of play that would earn me a place on the professional circuit. As a person, however, I was quickly approaching an all-time low point. After winning many duels and earning a winning reputation, my ego was inflating at an alarming rate. I was now one of the only few people that won our weekly (and soon bi-weekly) tournaments with any regularity. My friends and I made up the ruling class. Anybody that wasn’t in our circle was clearly terrible at Magic, especially when compared with the greatness that was us. And I certainly treated them as if I were some medieval king and these peasants were trying to take food from my table. Did these people really think they had a chance to defeat us!? I am rolling my eyes so hard right now; that I had to type that to accurately depict the levels of douche that I had achieved saddens me to this day.

One young fellow in particular has always stuck out in my mind. James was several years younger than me, and being a sixteen-year-old Magic prodigy, the last thing I wanted was an annoying little kid hanging around. I mocked his play, made fun of his music tastes, and watched on with laughter whenever anyone else was mean to him. I have since apologized, but I feel awful any time I look back on it. I realize now that all James wanted was some friends, and some people he could look up to. My pride was too important. I was hot shit, and I was damn sure going to make absolutely certain everyone knew it by being a complete prick.

I lived and died for those Friday nights. The chance to prove myself again and again as the superior magician. The chance to show off my brand new cards or deck idea. With every game, there was the potential for deep strategic decision and complex lines of play. I simply could not get enough. I played every tournament I could possibly get to.

It isn’t like I didn’t have the results to back it up, either. It wasn’t long before myself, Brandon Burks, and Daniel Neeley were probably the most feared players in the state. We were pretty large fish, legitimately, but the pond we were swimming in was so very, very small. Still, that didn’t stop me from being the first guy in our crew to win a pro tour qualifier (PTQ from here on) after several years of trying as much as I could, sometimes playing in as many as a PTQ a week. People would generally only play in three to five PTQs in a four-month season, those being the one or two in their home state, and the few they were able to drive to. For those that don’t know, these are the second hardest tournaments non-professional players are allowed to play in, and the winner receives a plane ticket to the next Pro Tour, wherever it may be. This one just so happened to be for Yokohama, Japan.

Looking back, the tournament itself is barely memorable. I didn’t play particularly well. A friend conceded to me in lieu of taking a draw that would end the tournament for both of us. I played against Daniel in the Top 4, and was able to overcome his poor draws in what was a favorable matchup for him. Then I almost wasted all of that by making a critical mistake that could have cost me the plane ticket. I had a very good deck, and was VERY fortunate that day. Do you think, though, that twenty-year-old me recognized those facts? Not a chance. In my eyes, it was simply a case of the best player in the room doing what he did best. Playing perfectly and winning. Naturally.

And so off I went into the land of the rising sun, to wage war against the juggernauts of the game. I didn’t make the second day of competition. Brandon Burks, who was also able to take down a PTQ, did a little better, but neither of us returned with any sort of prize. None of that stopped Japan from being a lot of fun, but it shook the faith a little bit. At least until my next tournament, where I was back in my usual form. Clearly, Japan was a fluke. The professionals that I lost to just got lucky, while I got unlucky. I would earn another trip to the big leagues and show them just how skilled I was! Or so was the plan...

Alas, I’m going to have to leave it there for now. When I began this piece, I had a simple outline in mind. Throughout the writing process, that has grown to include many more stories and all of that in one blog post was just going to be too much. Next week I’ll have a post about my favorite PTQ of all time and the beginning of my descent from the greatness that I was.