Being a Magic player is great. You spend weekends travelling around with your best friends, testing both your gaming skills and your tolerance for nonstop Taylor Swift sing-alongs. You stay up until three A.M. eating Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes and testing mirror matches. The three primary topics of conversation are sideboards, Red Sox, and Adam's hot sister.

Being a boyfriend is also great. You have someone who you can open up to, loves you unconditionally, and picks up the socks you leave all over the house. You can never be truly lonely knowing your significant other is a text message away. Plus, boobs.

Yup, gaming and relationships. Two great tastes that go together like peanut butter and severe nut allergies.

In my experience, being a successful Magic player and being a good boyfriend are nearly impossible to accomplish at the same time. A switch goes off when I get around cards: I stop checking my texts; I forget about dinner plans with her family; I lose half the cable bill money drafting. My priorities shift down a row as I insert "Play More Magic" into cell A1.

But Lindsay is a patient, understanding woman. She never freaks out about unanswered messages. She tells her parents I got sick again and can't make it for spaghetti. She forg… no, she still gets mad about the cable bill (who wouldn't?).

In order for my two loves to coexist, they each have to willfully ignore the other's existence, like Sister Wives. I don't bring up Magic when we're having a romantic dinner (that much), and she doesn't try to stand between me and a prerelease. So when it's time for FNM, Lindsay finds something to do to entertain herself. Before the baby, I'd go sling cards and she'd go out with her friends and knit (or whatever womenfolk do).

Now, it's a little different. Lindsay gets home from work, tired, hungry, and before we can even eat dinner, I'm putting a screaming baby in her arms and bolting out the door to make 6 PM registration. It isn't fair to her, and although she always told me to go, I never did. Maybe it's all the Catholic school, or maybe there's some life left in my dried out corpse of a conscience, but I just felt too guilty.

Until last Friday. A store had recently opened up near my house, so I wouldn't have to travel forty minutes anymore. Plus, it started an hour later than my old FNMs. That meant Lindsay and I could have some time to eat, relax, and get the baby settled before I bolted out the door.

Dave offered me my choice of any of his Standard decks (most of my cards rotated out with Alara), and I thought about it all week. The problem with going into a new store is you don't know what everyone else will be doing. I remember, back when I was playing the World of Warcraft TCG competitively, my group of friends and I descended en masse on a small local store that was hosting a cash tournament. Nobody was clear on the exact prizes, but it was rumored to be a significant pay out. Seemed like +EV*. We tested and tuned our Regionals-winning decklists to perfection and arrived at Jetpack Comics with our game faces on.

"Is this the right place?" We were all thinking it, but Jimmy's the one who said it.

The store owner was a little too friendly, like a school teacher asking for a volunteer to read aloud. "Hey guys! You bring your WoW cards? BIG tournament today!"

"Uh, yeah. Where is it?" Jimmy again.

"Right there!" He pointed to one 8-person table, jammed into the corner between the wall of Warhammer figurines and the enormous racks of comic books. "I think those guys are playing D&D right now, but when they're done we're going to start."

The tournament consisted of myself, three of my sharkiest friends, and three kids with intro decks. The prize was twenty dollars in store credit. I got a bye in round one.

This story played out over and over in my head as I thought about what deck to bring to FNM. I'm not saying I'm too good to play against new players, I just don't want to bring a nuke to a NERF fight. On the other hand, I've also played in an FNM with a silly combo deck and been destroyed three rounds in a row by Jund. That wasn't particularly fun either.

I decided to play a deck that was competitive, but allowed for interaction between the players. I also wanted to get back to my roots as a green mage, so I borrowed Dave's Elf deck. The only change I made was the addition of one maindeck Molten-Tail Masticore to fetch with Fauna Shaman.

I met Dave and Seth at the Chinese Buffet next to the store, but I had already eaten. Have you ever been to a buffet and told the waitress you just wanted water? The staff watches you like Turkish prison guards, just waiting for you to take a bite off your friend's plate so they can throw you out. Look, I know the General Gao's is good here and all, but you don't have to protect it like it's the Holy Grail.

Dave and Seth finished up and we headed over. It was a pretty good turnout – apparently the store was having a promotion that involved free entry fees for the whole month, and the ten dollar savings brought out all the penny pinchers. There were far more young kids than the stores I usually frequent, which made me want to audible to the poison deck I constructed out of draft leftovers. Alas, I only had two Plague Stingers, so it was not to be.

After a quick game of Dominion, we were under way. My first round opponent summoned me to the back, where he was all set up. Some people just look like competent Magic players, and he was one of them. His face had none of the excitement or nervousness of a new player, and he shuffled with speed and purpose. His thick zip-up binder and States Top 8 playmat didn't hurt. Then he played a foil Celestial Colonnade, and I knew I was in for a tough one.

Sure enough, a succession of Day of Judgments, Jaces, and Baneslayer Angels crushed my slow draws with ease. There was a moment in game two where I thought I had it after he Ratchet Bombed and I regenerated my team with Ezuri. He frowned, looked at Ezuri like he had no idea he could do that, asked me if I was tapped out (I was), and finally cast Day of Judgment to leave me with no board and no hand. It wasn't that close, is what I'm saying.

Afterwards I was talking to Dave about the round, and I mentioned that I would have played something else if I knew the competition would be so stiff.

"Oh, you played Russell? Yeah he's good. He's the guy playing you in fantasy football this week, too."

Russell, or xILLxJuggernaut, as I knew him, had a stacked fantasy team. Schaub, MJD, Ochocinco, all capable of putting up huge numbers that week. The weakest player on his team (I thought at the time) was Darren McFadden, who wound up getting four touchdowns. If I could somehow beat him, I had a chance at taking first place in our division. If I lost, there was a good chance I would miss the playoffs, considering the tough schedule ahead of me.

Both in Magic and make-believe sports, I had a new rival.

Round Two came shortly thereafter, and I was playing against the polar opposite type of player. He had clear, cheap sleeves, and they were beat to hell and back. His deck appeared to be at least eighty cards. Still, when he curved out from Nest Invader to Kozilek's Predator to Emrakul's Hatcher, I was dead on the board if he had Overrun, Eldrazi Monument, or Beastmaster's Ascension. He didn't, and we were on to game two.

I had one of those Elf hands that are just blatantly unfair if your opponent doesn't have removal. Turn 1 Llanowar Elves, Turn 2 Elvish Archdruid, Turn 3 three more one-mana elves and Ezuri. I even ripped a Monument the next turn just to rub it in.

After the match we talked about his deck, and I told him I was worried about the Ascension in game one.

"Aw man, I wanted to buy those before the tournament, but the store is sold out."

Luckily, I happened to have six of that very card, so I offered to trade. He was reluctant.

"I don't value these very highly, I won't rip you off or anything," I promised.

"Yeah, I just don't have a lot of stuff." He seemed embarrassed, but he pulled out three piles wrapped in rubber bands from his box. "This is all of it. I can trade from the decks if you want, I don't really use them."

I thumbed through and only found one rare, a Mass Polymorph.

"I could do two Ascensions for the Polymorph." I figured I was losing out, but I wanted to make his day.

"Ah, the Polymorph? I dunno, it's just got that fun factor…" He looked at the card with the memories of flipping Craw Wurms into play evident on his face. How could I separate this man from those memories?

"You know what, I have extras. You can take the Ascensions."

I don't relate this story here to make myself look good. At least, not solely for that reason. I just want to document this case of a player being so attached to a card that he would not give it up, even for cards he needs for a tournament deck, even for seriously +EV. I hope someday I can see my cards in that light.

My Round 3 opponent was the kind I would play against all day if I could: fun, amiable, but trying to win. He seemed like a good player that understood the context of the game: we're 1-1 at an FNM, playing for something like fifteen dollars in credit. He wasn't just going to throw the game away, but he wasn't going to let the competition get in the way of a good time.

Plus, he was playing a poison deck remarkably similar to the one I tried to put together before the tournament. He even said he built it out of draft leftovers.

Both games he had bad draws, which happens a lot with poison decks. The deck is basically one-third lands, one-third two-drops, and one-third pump spells, and you need to draw a few of each. If you're a little light in any one category, you probably won't win. And he didn't.

Round Four saw Dave and Seth drawing together at 3-0, while I played the Elf mirror against another guy in my fantasy league who I had never met, DallasRocks (AKA Max). Max is young, probably under twelve, but he knows how to play Magic. His dad started teaching him when he was six, and those 5 years of experience were evident in our first game.

Math in the Elf mirror can get pretty overwhelming, as you tally up mana from Archdruids and how much damage you can get in with Ezuri, then take into account what your opponent can do with the same pieces. It's a matter of figuring out the most amount of damage the other player can do, how many guys you have to leave back to stay alive, and how many guys you can afford to swing with. In game one, his arithmetic was spotless and he beat me the turn before I could kill him.

Game two was lopsided in my favor, as I had a better draw and his mulligan left him without much action.

Max's dad came over for game three, and I could tell his presence rattled him. He played very conservatively, missing attacks and making foolish chump blocks. He was like an entirely different player.

I could relate. I remember when my friend Brian, who taught me how to play Magic, would come over and watch me in a game. Suddenly, I wasn't thinking about what the right play was, I was thinking about what he would think was the right play. In my first PTQ top 8, I completely punted my semifinals match when I had eight cards and discarded the last blue one I needed to cast Force of Will. I could have dumped one of the three lands I was holding, but I wanted to show Brian that I knew Tradewind Riders was awful in that situation, so I put it in the bin. My opponent combo'd off with Tinker on his turn, and I couldn't counter it, so I lost.

Anyways, I probably would have won the Elf mirror regardless of Max's miscalculations. I had a Fauna Shaman capable of finding Masticore if she had to, and he had no answer for that line of play. The mistakes just meant he died faster and got a talking-to from his dad after the game.

I ended up 3-1, which meant twenty dollars in store credit. I bought five packs with the intention of playing multiplayer pack wars, but the store owner closed up before we could get to it. Instead, I ripped them open and found an Elspeth Tirel waiting for me.

"Looks like I'm playing white next week," I joked.

"I have blue/white completely built, Jaces and all," Seth said, "I'm probably playing red again. You can use it."

I thought of my opponents with Spawn armies, Blight Mambas, boards full of Elves. Do I really want to be the guy Wrathing the fun out of the game and countering the zany combo cards?

Then I thought of xILLxJuggernaut.

"I'll take it."

When I got home, the baby was asleep. He sleeps with his arms splayed out over his head, and when you make the slightest noise, they shoot up like a proximity mine. Every night I need to make the decision of whether it's worth kissing him goodnight, possibly waking him up angry, wet, and screaming.

It's not the +EV play. If he wakes up, I'll have to change him, feed him, and sing him back to sleep. It means an hour less sleep when I'm already looking at six, at most.

Every night I risk it.

Cheers,

Brad Wojceshonek

BradWoj@gmail.com

@BJWoj on Twitter

*+EV is a poker term (derived from a mathematical term) that means "positive expected value." In this context, it basically means something is worth your time, or is the best play, from a financial perspective.