Magic: The Gathering, Part Three

Part One

Part Two

After I was thrust into the competitive sphere of Magic, I got to work on learning everything I could about the Modern format. I watched YouTube videos of gameplay, I read articles on major Magic websites, and participated in open online forums. I found many popular and strong decks this way, eventually settling on a burn deck. I played this deck for a little while, having plenty of time with my brother Robert, as he was home during that summer, but I did not only want to play burn. I quickly switched over to my next deck, an affinity deck, which is a synergistic artifact aggro deck. This deck was and is my pride and beauty, being the deck that I learned how to play in and out. I constantly played my affinity deck, loving every turn of it. I practiced non stop, getting in as many matches as I could, trying to fully master it. After practicing at every opportunity available, an event came where I could showcase my skills. It was another PTQ, but this time I had a polished deck and an improved skill set. My brother drove me to the PTQ, bringing his own scapehsift deck with him. It was packed with hundreds of players, and despite me having been in the exact same situation not too long ago, I felt more nervous than ever, At my last PTQ I had no idea what to expect, and brought a homebrew deck with no thoughts of even getting close to winning. This time I had a competitive deck, and many hours of practice, but yet I felt more like a child than I ever did before. I was in a room filled with people ranging from high school students, all the way too to senior citizens, with only a few people who looked like my thirteen-year-old self. And any of these people who looked like me, were almost all always accompanied with their parents who were participating in the event. Not only did I feel separated from the rest of the pack due to age, but I was petrified of all the rules, and possibilities that I might by accidentally break. One thing I had to do for these rules was submit a decklist. I had to write down every card in my sixty card deck and fifteen card sideboard, and if I messed it up I didn't know what would happen. I was not a cheater, but I felt scared that I would. To put it lightly, I checked my deck to the decklist I wrote about a billion times before finally handing it in. Along with this, I was scared that I would by accidentally draw two cards, or my deck would seem marked due to wear on the sleeves of my cards. All of these fears crept up into my body and mind, and then the head judge announced that first round pairings had been put up. This first round was intense, but just as quickly as all those fears of being in such a rule-heavy environment crept up, so did they leave. I had been playing magic for around half my life at this point, and I knew how to play. I quickly snatched my first match of the tournament and brought my match slip up to the judge's desk. I gave it to them, and that was it. The first round was over for me, and I got to wait until everyone had finished. This waiting felt magical, I got to sit there basking in my early win, feeling more comfortable as each second crept by. This formula repeated itself round after round until I had five wins and zero losses. When I had reached the five-win zero loss mark, I saw myself in reach of one of the top eight spots. I could make it, I could win the tournament, and get a dream invite to the pro tour. The next round brought me back to reality, as I was stomped on by my opponent. Back with a loss, my fragile dream felt broken. I could not let this keep me down though, I needed to regroup my thoughts and recuperate my body. I had time left in the round and so had a snack from my lunch box, giving both my mind and body a much-needed rest. No longer was I thinking of a dream, but instead about my next round, one round at a time I told myself. I came to my next opponent rested and confident, I knew what I was doing. I will always remember my next opponent, and not just because we are facebook friends. My opponent was playing Splinter Twin and was down all the way from Maine, for this tournament in Providence Rhode Island. As we played we chatted, me my thirteen-year-old self, and him a college graduate who was starting to settle down in life. This was my first friend I ever made playing competitive magic. Our game was pleasant, with fun repertoire on both sides. I did not win the game, but even though I lost, I did not feel defeated. He somehow made me feel proud, all the while killing me with his infinite splinter twin combo. He taught me about Magic Online, a Wizards of the Coast product that allows for online play, just like the real magic, similar to the likes of Hearthstone. He opened my eyes to this world of gaming and its countless wonderful magicians. At this point, I was five and two, no longer at the top of the leaderboard. I still had a chance if I won my last two games to make top eight, but no longer was it guaranteed. Despite the setbacks, the fire that was in me still believed, I knew I could do this, I would do this. I played my next game to a quick win, becoming six and two right on the verge of the top eight. There was only one round remaining, and while not for sure because of tiebreaker percentages, if I won I most likely would make it in. I did. I felt so ecstatic after defeating my opponent. Then the anxiety set in. I had to wait for the final standings to be put up, and while I was fairly certain I was safe, I did not know for sure. Tiebreakers in magic are determined by whom each player plays, so that if a player plays people who end up doing well, then they have a higher tiebreaker then someone who played opponents who did worse. If some weird things happened, my tiebreakers could lower and my opponents could rise leaving me out of top eight. This short lived anxiety came to an end as the top eight was announced, I had made it, I repeated to my self that, that was my name in the loudspeaker. After hearing this, I felt adrift in my own world, I had a chance, a chance to be the youngest player at the time, to play at a Pro Tour. As all eight of us came to the judge's table the head judge put us through some more bureaucratic processes. I had to give my mothers information, including financials, in case I won, which was a little stressful as we had to contact her to find some of this out. Then it was back to the game. My opponent was the higher seed and so they got to choose to go first or second. They chose to be on the play and got out to a quick start with their birthing pod deck. I was never able to catch up and game one went to my opponent. This put me in a bad spot because the deck I was playing normally won the first game and struggled in the next two due to sideboard cards my opponents had. Thankfully, with the help of going first, I was able to take game two. I could feel the pressure, with the eyes of not just the spectators, but also of the judge who was assigned to watch mine and my opponents game. Game three started with my opponent and I getting out to the races. In the end, though, my journey had to stop at some point, and this was the point. My opponent was able to win the final game and advance to the semi-finals. I was out. I had made it so far, had tried so hard, but it was all over. It did not feel like a loss though. I had made it to the quarterfinals of my second PTQ. A PTQ which contained a couple hundred players. I felt exhausted but accomplished. I had done well. And as my tournament ended so did my friends. The man who gave me my second loss had also made it to the top eight, with him too being vanquished there. We both exited the arena, said our goodbyes, and once again he made me feel like I won, despite having just lost.