I lost in the semi-finals of PTQ Columbus for Honolulu last weekend to Randy Wright. I posted this somewhat anachronistic event on Facebook and received a response from Mike Turian:

I had to laugh because, really, it was funny to find myself playing competitive Magic against some of the same people fifteen years after I began.

I almost didn’t go. Many tournament reports start out this way, but it is true; I almost didn’t. I had to round in the hospital in the morning and was on-call all day—and in the end, I really did have to step away from a couple of matches to answer pages. However, work went overall more smoothly than anticipated, and the bittersweet lure of the final tournament-organizer-run (TO) PTQ pulled me.

I hadn’t played aggressively to qualify in a PTQ season since around Odyssey block except for the occasional PTQ over the last several years. I have gone to most prereleases, though, loving tournament play but, generally frustrated with my inability to remain competitive with the amount of time I have been able to devote to playing any game—much less a game as complex, intense, and ever-changing as Magic. Innistrad drew me back in, though. I did well at the prerelease and felt that this set had many intricacies in decision-making that favored the skilled Limited player. And let’s face it—it is really fun to play! This—combined with things like work settling down and kids becoming old enough to stay with family—encouraged my husband Denver and me to arrange work and babysitting schedules in order to attend some of the more local PTQs.

This weekend, my deck was forgiving, allowing the rust in my play to fade away during the first couple of rounds. I was lucky enough to open nine rares—playing with Garruk, Mindshrieker, Kessig Cagebreakers, Daybreak Ranger, and Sulfur Falls. My deck was U/G with a Red splash for two Brimstone Volleys. I finished 7–1, enabling me to continue my somewhat unexpectedly long tournament day. I drafted R/W in the Top 8, initially forcing White mostly because I knew I could comfortably play the color in Innistrad. Red just came to me with a Charmbreaker Devils and some reasonable instants. This was eventually where I settled:

[cardlist]

[Creatures]

1 Abbey Griffin

1 Ashmouth Hound

1 Charmbreaker Devils

1 Crossway Vampire

1 Mausoleum Guard

1 Pitchburn Devils

1 Scourge of Geier Reach

1 Selfless Cathar

1 Skirsdag Cultist

1 Thraben Sentry

1 Village Ironsmith

1 Voiceless Spirit

2 Bloodcrazed Neonate

2 Doomed Traveler

1 Galvanic Juggernaut

[/Creatures]

[Spells]

1 Brimstone Volley

1 Harvest Pyre

1 Smite the Monstrous

2 Rebuke

1 Divine Reckoning

[/Spells]

[Lands]

8 Plains

9 Mountain

[/Lands]

[Sideboard]

1 Intangible Virtue

1 Back from the Brink

1 Lost in the Mist

1 Selhoff Occultist

1 Skaab Goliath

1 Spectral Flight

1 Stitcher's Apprentice

1 Endless Ranks of the Dead

1 Heartless Summoning

1 Manor Skeleton

1 Ancient Grudge

1 Curse of Stalked Prey

1 Nightbird's Clutches

1 Tormented Pariah

2 Traitorous Blood

1 Vampiric Fury

1 Kindercatch

1 Wreath of Geists

[/Sideboard]

[/cardlist]

I won the first round after my opponent mulliganed both games, and I lost the second round after stalling on two Mountains twice , reminding me of some of the frustrations of Magic tournaments . Nonetheless, I was struck by this game that has lasted more than a decade and a half.

My first tournament was PTQ Pittsburgh for New York in 1997. Denver and I drove the three hours from Columbus with anticipation. The deck registration process for me was not as seamless and automatic then as it is now. I was hesitating about my cards when the player across from me took my pool, built a deck and said, “Here, play this.” Rules about collusion were a little looser back then. I don’t know who the player was, but I subsequently recognized him as a tournament regular, and his advice was actually quite good. I went 3–0, then dropped to play in a Type 1 tournament for a Mox. I did not yet know much about the Pro Tour or how hard-fought 3–0 starts were in PTQs.

I recently heard a presentation by Malcolm Gladwell, a New York Magazine writer, and he discussed the concept of the Law of the Few when it comes to the spread of epidemics. That is to say, major changes can result from the actions of only a few individuals who bring together a group. For us, that individual was Mark Globus. Most of my Magic connections and many of my friends today are because of Mark.

I met him at my second tournament, a local ALICE (Ice Age, Alliance) event at the Ohio State University. I believe he beat me in the finals, but he invited me to join his weekly group. This is where my discovery of gaming began. Mark was a strong tournament player. I learned about competitive Magic playing with him, and for the next few years, this became the backbone of my play-testing group. One of my favorite Magic memories of this time period was when Mark beat us with an all-land deck including things like Library of Alexandria, and using Mishra’s Factories as the beat down.

Magic tournaments brought my friends and me across the country. At an Atlanta Grand Prix, I had the privilege of losing in the finals of three separate Mox Mania tournaments. Clearly, this was disappointing, but the silver lining was accumulating enough points to play in a Beta and Italian Legends Rochester Draft. We cracked open a Mox Sapphire in a winner-takes-all event that was exciting even for the spectators. There were several Grand Prix Boston adventures—usually involving driving overnight Friday, playing on Saturday, and then driving back home that night. Once, we even made the twelve-hour trip just to practice drafting against tournament-caliber opponents. Friday Night Magic did not exist back then.

Throughout my Magic career, there have been occasions when I lost despite cards that suggested that I should have won, and I’ve won with cards suggesting that I should have lost. I qualified for PT: LA 2000 with a horrible Draft deck, in which the MVP was a Misshapen Fiend. I met a friend I still play games with when he approached me at a PTQ . . . ironically, to autograph a copy of this card, which had featured prominently in tournament reports of my victory. Somewhere in circulation, there is a 1/1 flyer for from Mercadian Masques with my signature on it to commemorate the event.

Over time, life took over. Residency moved me to Connecticut; kids prevented me from playing games all of that often. Most of our play-testing group drifted away with the responsibilities of growing up—a few went to work for Wizards. Nonetheless, fifteen years after I began to play Magic, it continues to have an impact on my life. My best friends are people whom I met through tournaments. Beyond that, my kids’ best friends are a direct result of Magic—they were brought together each week to play games. My husband and I traveled around the country together to Grands Prix when we were dating; I am sure that played a role in our eventual marital bliss. To my knowledge, we remain the only husband and wife couple to play in a Pro Tour together.

I will never be a professional Magic player, nor do I realistically expect to ever win a major event. I don’t have the time to devote, and I probably don’t have the skill regardless of the time. I am analytical, but I lack some of the creative genius I believe it takes to see the endless possibilities and combinations needed to draft a great deck. However, there exists a group of semi-professionals out there—players who make Top 8s, some Grand Prix Day 2s, and the occasional Pro Tour. I see them at each PTQ I go to, many of those players I started playing with return to Magic intermittently. Each of us collects memories of amazing games or plays throughout the years. I will not forget a game in which I enticed Randy Buehler into fireslinging himself for a point of damage so that I could play Reins of Power to kill him exactly (I think I actually lost the match) or the heartbreaking loss to Aaron Forsythe for a spot in Nationals when my Bargain deck fizzled. I get a little thrill when I Google myself and still see a feature match at Grand Prix: Detroit in 2001 against Rob Dougherty (although these days, I have to add “Magic” to my name in order to find it).

When I sat down to play Randy in the Top 8 this weekend, he told me the last time we played in a tournament, I had played Thermal Glider, Nightwind Glider, and another 2/1 flyer on successive turns—and then he Squalled them away.

I do not know how the myriad of changes in the ratings, invites, and tournament organizations will affect competitive Magic. As someone who remembers the days of store-run PTQs before TOs, I approach this new era with trepidation. PTQs are larger than they used to be, and the draw of the Grand Prix is lesser without the invitations. Work and family make it challenging to consider this new points system that appears to reward volume. Poorly run tournaments may change the time to reward ratio, and it’s difficult to commit a full day to waiting for events to begin. I do not expect that the quest to become a level fifty archmage will be much of a draw for me. Nonetheless, this game has been infinitely adaptable, and its ability to manage change has been among the aspects that have kept it strong since inception.

I have never been a casual Magic player. I play purely for the thrill of outwitting my opponents in complex competitive situations with the (slim) hope of being the best—and I know there are many like me out there. I truly hope this aspect of Magic continues. My five year-old-son already has a collection, and I would love to be able to share this with him. Regardless, I am eternally grateful to those who have worked hard to make this amazing game a success.

Thank you.