Magic: The Gathering, Part Seven

Part One, Part Two,

Part Three, Part Four,

Part Five, Part Six

I felt like a champion after my result at Grand Prix Boston-Worcester. I loved magic, I had people in my life who loved it, and I had many an opportunity to play it. My brother was still strongly entrenched in the game, along with all of his friends in college, and I had the most friends of my own in magic I had ever had before. I had a tradition of spending a week in the summer up with my brother Robert ever since his sophomore year in college. I loved this week, I got to be in the beautiful city of Burlington, Vermont, and got to play with him, and all of his friends. I would not only play magic up there, we dabbled in many a game, but by far the majority was magic. This week was something I always looked forward too. I loved magic and it loved me. I enjoyed this euphoric magic lifestyle for as long as I could. Even back home away from my brother I often played in real life with my friends. I continued my playing online being active every day. I was at my pinnacle of playing, being a true expert of the affinity deck I loved. During this time, I experimented and brewed many decks. I used cards that I thought were interesting to create playable pieces. I had the resources, the time, and the love, nothing could alter this wonderful life.

With all this goodness and happiness that magic brought me, it also brought desire. I wanted a new high stakes tournament to quench my thirst. Previously, I had both my PTQ and Grand Prix Boston-Worcester to look forward to. I had practiced for both these events thoroughly, trying to be the best I could. I was a modern player, and so any Grand Prix in another format was much less appealing to me. The standard format was a for sure no, and limited would be something I would have fun in, but not something I was at a strong enough level to do well in. This led me to scavenge the few tournaments I could. I played an SCG Premier IQ, a private tournament circuit held by a very large magic store, to a top-eight finish, but this was not the tournament circuit I wanted to be on. I wanted the pro circuit, filled with Pro Tour Qualifiers, Grand Prixs, and Pro Tours. By now the pro tour qualifier system had been changed so that you had to qualify to even play in one. These pre-pro tour qualifiers, or PPTQ, were fairly widespread and often. They took place in all formats and seemed like an interesting prospect. My brother had just graduated from college and was back home for a short stay. I was finishing up my middle school career with only a month left when he came home. We decided to go to a modern format pre-pro tour qualifier together. My brother had been busy finishing up his senior year and so had not played as much magic recently. He was still a strong player, but I could see he was not as entertained by all the little things as he once was. This did not sway him wanting to go though, and so together, like pioneers, we left our town for a half hour drive to the game store hosting the pre-pro tour qualifier. There were probably fifty players at the event, and so my Robert and I huddled our way through to find a free space in this packed store. The rounds started smoothly, and the atmosphere was pleasant. My brother did not have a great tournament, but he stuck it out, playing each of his rounds happily. I had a very strong event, securing my place in top eight before the last round even finished. Before the top eight began, my brother, being the true hero he is, got some food for both of us. I scarfed it down just in time for the start of the top eight. My quarterfinals and semifinals did not last long, and soon I was headed to the finals. I had never been in the finals of an event before, and I was excited and incredibly anxious. Pre-pro tour qualifiers were very top heavy, with first place and the invite being by far the best prize. I wanted this invite, and I knew I could get it. During the match, I faced a resurrected scare from my first PTQ when the judge asked me how many cards were in my hand. I had been ahead on the board and was scared I was about to lose the game because I by accidentally drew another card or made some other infraction. It was fine though, I had done nothing, and the game was not stopped, only the judge double checking. I quickly finished up the match defeating my opponent in two games. I felt thrilled, I had done it, I had won the entire tournament. I now was able to go to the next pro tour qualifier. The pro tour qualifiers were now held in specific locations every few months. They were no longer the overflowing tournaments they once were because of the invite-only quality of them. With a size ranging from the high double digits to a few hundred, these tournaments were much more manageable for both the staff and players. I knew the pro tour qualifier I was qualified for was in the limited format sealed. I practiced non stop for it, playing magic online sealed events as often as I could. I got fairly good at the format, but I did not feel nearly strong enough to be a real competitor at the pro tour qualifier. I was still excited to go, and so when the day came my mom brought me to the car bright and early so that we could head to the event. We were one of the first people entering the comic book store. It felt empty for its size, but this emptiness was relaxing for my churning stomach. It quickly filled up, until it was packed right before the start of the tournament. In sealed you build a deck from six packs given to you, and so the judges delivered packs of cards to every player. In addition, you a got a free Liliana of the Veil card that you could not use in your deck but was highly collectible for qualifying. When the judges announced deck building to begin, I opened all of my packs and quickly started the creation of my deck. I had a strong mythic rare called Dragonlord Dromoka that I opened and wanted to use, so I created a green-white deck with Dragonlord Dromoka at its head. I did not feel the deck was anything special, but it was not terrible either. When the judges announced the first round I was excited to just be playing in the tournament. I had a fun first round with a good opponent, narrowly dispatching of them. This continued until I had three wins and zero losses. I started to think about my prospects at this point. I was doing much better then I had ever expected, and I thought, maybe I could actually make it. In the new pro tour qualifiers, you would qualify for the pro tour if you only made top four, or top eight depending on the tournament size. In my tournament, a top-four finish was needed. My next opponent had one of the strongest limited decks I had ever faced in the format, and so I was quickly stomped in two games. This put a damper on my prospects, but I was still doing much better then I expected. I was able to win the next two rounds and become five and one, gaining a very strong path to top eight. I lost my seventh round falling to five and two, but still had the chance to get in. When I saw the next round pairings, I knew that my opponent and I could intentionally draw and be safe for top eight. We had the best tiebreakers for fifteen points, and the two people below us could draw as well and be fine. There were two people who were already safe with enough points. This left the last two spots to be filled by the four players at fifteen points with the lowest tiebreakers, they would have to play it out. I sat down to a very pleasant and nice man. We made some quick small talk, and I asked him if he wanted to intentionally draw. He said that one of his friends was not sure if we could draw. I tried explaining to him my reasoning for why we could draw, how the people below us almost certainly would too, and so we would be safer then them due to our tiebreakers, and they were safe themselves, but he was not fully sure about this. I was getting scared, I thought I was safe. I left for the bathroom and he thought about it more. When I came back the judge gave us a time extension, and he said he still did not know. I was so sure we were safe, the math completely checked out. I wanted it so bad, and I quickly vomited out of my mouth that I was so sure that we would get in, that if we did not I would give him my Liliana of the Veil. I was ruined the second those words sneaked through my teeth. In magic, there are very strict rules on bribery, and you are not allowed to do it. We had a judge right by our table, with them often staying at the top tables at the end of the event. While not money, the Liliana of the Veil was an object. I had said that if we did not get in through a draw that I would give mine to my opponent. I did not think before I said it, I was just a young teen who wanted something so much, and was so sure that we would both be safe if we drew. I thought I was in before the round even started. But instead I was ended. I knew what was going to happen the second those tiny words squeaked out. I was out, the judge told us to stop and he went over to the head judge to talk to him. The head judge had my opponent and I come individually to talk and listened to us tell what happened. My opponent was nothing but nice, realizing that this was just a kid trying to overstate their point, not trying to bribe their opponent right in the face of a judge. The head judge was nice and knew this was just a terrible situation, but there was nothing to be done. I was disqualified, and with that my dream, my dream which had weathered the winds, beaten out any rain to only reignite stronger, was finally put out. I had to fill out forms stating what happened and would have to go through a formal investigation. I knew nothing worse would happen in the investigation, so did the judges, but the prospect of it happening felt awful. I was always so afraid of by accidentally breaking a rule, it had plagued me from my first true competitive event. Through many an event, nothing had happened, I would never try to break a rule, and that seemed to be enough of a protection. But then it was not. It was the worst day of my life, I cried in the car all the way home. Balling my eyes out, my dream was over. I knew it would never be the same. It was not just not making it to the pro tour, that was okay, I would not have been mad if I had done poorly. I thought I was going to do badly in the format. It was the shame, I felt branded forever. It felt like something that I could never get away from, something I knew I would lie about, keeping it forever within me. I had been in contact with my brother, and he had heard how well I was doing. He had told all of his friends who were rooting for me. My friends knew I was in the tournament. What would they do if they heard what I did? I knew this was going to be the worst day of my life for a while, its memory is still vivid. So much crying, so much pain that day. My mother told my brother for me, and of course, he was nothing but wonderful. I told my magic friends I had just done badly in the tournament, glad that I never let them know how well I had been doing. It felt all over though. I was planning to go to a grand prix with my brother in Canada later in the summer. I did not want to go anymore. I needed time, I needed time. I tried so hard to tell myself it would be okay, but it did not feel okay, it did not feel okay. That day became the forever cold dagger in my fire, my fire was out, my fire was out.