I made the top 8 of the first two PTQs that I ever played in. The first one involved me sneaking
Magma Giants against Goblins and going for first turn wins against Astral Slide decks. I was very fortunate to not play against the various decks with countermagic that day like Mind’s Desire, Scepter Chant, Psychatog, or U/G madness. Sneak Attack, my centerpiece four-mana enchantment, didn’t hold up very well against any type of disruption.
In the quarterfinals I was paired against yet another favorable matchup. This time, the enemy was wielding fire-slinging wizards and small jackals. I punted away the match with shaky hands, nervous speech, and an overall uneasiness that comes with a situation being very foreign to you. Unable to recover from my punt, I was quickly eliminated from competition. I seemed to notice that certain individuals were very unhappy that a fifteen-year old had durdled his way with a lucksack deck onto the grand stage that was a PTQ top 8! I believe I had knocked out a Kentucky local who got ninth who had a large amount of respect in the scene at the time. This tournament had two negative consequences; I had experienced success in Magic without putting in any work, and I had learned that when you lost, it was acceptable to make fun at everyone who wasn’t cool.
Shortly after that, I finished second at a Junior Super Series qualifier which earned me a spot in the JSS national tournament as well as a $500 dollar scholarship. I would have won the qualifier had I played correctly, which would have earned me an extra $500 in college money. Later that month I played in my second PTQ with a rock deck featuring Spiritmonger. I was running very hot. I cast Haunting Echoes against an opponent who had Psychatog in play, but instead of me simply preventing future damage, I ended up removing every spell in his deck from the game. I won round five, ensuring a double draw into top eight. This was against a Scepter Chant opponent who never drew a second land to complement his first turn Isochron Scepter imprinted with Orim’s Chant, fueled by a Chrome Mox. My Treetop Village went all the way.
My opposition in the quarterfinals was a rock deck similar to mine, only with a more aggressive game plan. The third game came down to sudden death rules; the first change in life totals would produce a victor. My opponent was on the play with a Troll Ascetic on the second turn. I led with a Birds of Paradise on my first turn and responded to his troll with a tapped Treetop Village. He did not have the removal spell, and I trampled over his forces to victory. I won a second mirror match in the semifinals and was on to the final match, which I learned would be yet another mirror! This was a time when you received a “travel award” instead of a plane ticket for winning a PTQ, and my opponent offered me a split. I would receive $200 dollars and two booster boxes of product in exchange for the slot on the Pro Tour.
Considering my parent’s views on both school and my hobby, I decided that going to JSS Nationals and doing well was my best shot to demonstrate to my parents that my hobby did in fact have merit. Hopefully this would slack the leash a little. The idea of a huge scholarship would surely sway their doubtful minds. If I went to the Pro Tour, I would not be allowed to compete in JSS Nationals, so I relinquished the slot and accepted the split.
This decision was not only what I believed to be correct at the time, but it would also become a convenient excuse. I would reference it for years to come as the reason for my failures; the Magic Gods must have forsaken me. It was my destiny to win that day, and I pissed in their faces. Pitiful, right? The little success I had lucked into as a young person would ruin me. I soon felt like I deserved to win. I began to assume that I actually had some skill. I mean, I had made the top eight of two PTQs! I started acting nasty to less experienced players. I blamed losses on bad luck. I was notorious for claiming that I hadn’t made a mistake.
I would enter a drought that would last for years and years. I will tell you now, if you ask me, that I haven’t ever won anything that mattered. I won’t mention those fabled PTQs that happened seven years ago. It wasn’t real. I wasn’t really playing magic. I was durdling. I was a kid that was playing a game that he thought was fun. I was not paying attention to the subtle nuances, exploring every possible play, rethinking every decision I made. I was not listening to others, and I was not thinking about my actions when I would berate opponents who won while they made mistakes.
My parents took the game away from me. Drugs took the game away from me. In retrospect, I didn’t have the game to begin with. I disrespected the game, I dishonored the game, and I didn’t deserve to get to play it. Am I any better today? I’m not sure. I will leave it to others to judge my progression as a player and a member of the community.
Why do I get so dramatic over colorful cardboard? Magic: The Gathering and its community probably saved my life. When I finally did hit rock bottom, Magic and the friends I had made playing it were waiting with open arms. Most people are able to eventually realize that they have a problem. Doing something about that is another story. If it wasn’t for the friends that saw something in me that they liked all those years ago, I would have had nowhere to run. It would have been only a matter of time; before I fell back into my self-destructive tendencies. I was able to separate myself from the darkness and demons that had taken control of my life. You can spend all of your time on Magic if you want to. They make it really easy. Magic was able to replace my current everyday goal of getting messed up. You can argue whether there is any merit in pursuing a life dominated by Magic, but you can’t argue with the fact that it must be a healthy alternative to dangerous drugs.
I’m sorry to anyone who had to put up with my ridiculous behavior. I’m sorry to the judges who gave me warnings for unsportsmanlike conduct. I’m sorry to my friends who had to listen to me whine on car trips. I’m sorry, Chrandersen, for ruining our possible friendship at that JSS tournament before it even had a chance to begin. Thank you Magic: The Gathering for always being there. I’m sorry I took you for granted.
Magma Giants against Goblins and going for first turn wins against Astral Slide decks. I was very fortunate to not play against the various decks with countermagic that day like Mind’s Desire, Scepter Chant, Psychatog, or U/G madness. Sneak Attack, my centerpiece four-mana enchantment, didn’t hold up very well against any type of disruption.
In the quarterfinals I was paired against yet another favorable matchup. This time, the enemy was wielding fire-slinging wizards and small jackals. I punted away the match with shaky hands, nervous speech, and an overall uneasiness that comes with a situation being very foreign to you. Unable to recover from my punt, I was quickly eliminated from competition. I seemed to notice that certain individuals were very unhappy that a fifteen-year old had durdled his way with a lucksack deck onto the grand stage that was a PTQ top 8! I believe I had knocked out a Kentucky local who got ninth who had a large amount of respect in the scene at the time. This tournament had two negative consequences; I had experienced success in Magic without putting in any work, and I had learned that when you lost, it was acceptable to make fun at everyone who wasn’t cool.
Shortly after that, I finished second at a Junior Super Series qualifier which earned me a spot in the JSS national tournament as well as a $500 dollar scholarship. I would have won the qualifier had I played correctly, which would have earned me an extra $500 in college money. Later that month I played in my second PTQ with a rock deck featuring Spiritmonger. I was running very hot. I cast Haunting Echoes against an opponent who had Psychatog in play, but instead of me simply preventing future damage, I ended up removing every spell in his deck from the game. I won round five, ensuring a double draw into top eight. This was against a Scepter Chant opponent who never drew a second land to complement his first turn Isochron Scepter imprinted with Orim’s Chant, fueled by a Chrome Mox. My Treetop Village went all the way.
My opposition in the quarterfinals was a rock deck similar to mine, only with a more aggressive game plan. The third game came down to sudden death rules; the first change in life totals would produce a victor. My opponent was on the play with a Troll Ascetic on the second turn. I led with a Birds of Paradise on my first turn and responded to his troll with a tapped Treetop Village. He did not have the removal spell, and I trampled over his forces to victory. I won a second mirror match in the semifinals and was on to the final match, which I learned would be yet another mirror! This was a time when you received a “travel award” instead of a plane ticket for winning a PTQ, and my opponent offered me a split. I would receive $200 dollars and two booster boxes of product in exchange for the slot on the Pro Tour.
Considering my parent’s views on both school and my hobby, I decided that going to JSS Nationals and doing well was my best shot to demonstrate to my parents that my hobby did in fact have merit. Hopefully this would slack the leash a little. The idea of a huge scholarship would surely sway their doubtful minds. If I went to the Pro Tour, I would not be allowed to compete in JSS Nationals, so I relinquished the slot and accepted the split.
This decision was not only what I believed to be correct at the time, but it would also become a convenient excuse. I would reference it for years to come as the reason for my failures; the Magic Gods must have forsaken me. It was my destiny to win that day, and I pissed in their faces. Pitiful, right? The little success I had lucked into as a young person would ruin me. I soon felt like I deserved to win. I began to assume that I actually had some skill. I mean, I had made the top eight of two PTQs! I started acting nasty to less experienced players. I blamed losses on bad luck. I was notorious for claiming that I hadn’t made a mistake.
I would enter a drought that would last for years and years. I will tell you now, if you ask me, that I haven’t ever won anything that mattered. I won’t mention those fabled PTQs that happened seven years ago. It wasn’t real. I wasn’t really playing magic. I was durdling. I was a kid that was playing a game that he thought was fun. I was not paying attention to the subtle nuances, exploring every possible play, rethinking every decision I made. I was not listening to others, and I was not thinking about my actions when I would berate opponents who won while they made mistakes.
My parents took the game away from me. Drugs took the game away from me. In retrospect, I didn’t have the game to begin with. I disrespected the game, I dishonored the game, and I didn’t deserve to get to play it. Am I any better today? I’m not sure. I will leave it to others to judge my progression as a player and a member of the community.
Why do I get so dramatic over colorful cardboard? Magic: The Gathering and its community probably saved my life. When I finally did hit rock bottom, Magic and the friends I had made playing it were waiting with open arms. Most people are able to eventually realize that they have a problem. Doing something about that is another story. If it wasn’t for the friends that saw something in me that they liked all those years ago, I would have had nowhere to run. It would have been only a matter of time; before I fell back into my self-destructive tendencies. I was able to separate myself from the darkness and demons that had taken control of my life. You can spend all of your time on Magic if you want to. They make it really easy. Magic was able to replace my current everyday goal of getting messed up. You can argue whether there is any merit in pursuing a life dominated by Magic, but you can’t argue with the fact that it must be a healthy alternative to dangerous drugs.
I’m sorry to anyone who had to put up with my ridiculous behavior. I’m sorry to the judges who gave me warnings for unsportsmanlike conduct. I’m sorry to my friends who had to listen to me whine on car trips. I’m sorry, Chrandersen, for ruining our possible friendship at that JSS tournament before it even had a chance to begin. Thank you Magic: The Gathering for always being there. I’m sorry I took you for granted.
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