As someone who's working very hard to break through to the next level, a lot of focus has gone into the task of becoming a better player. I'm blessed to have a lifestyle that allows me to interact with Magic on a daily basis, and that my life rewards me for thinking about the game rather than penalizes me. I understand that the majority of players haven't got this luxury, and I've gotten to thinking about operational things that can contribute to an increase in play skill.

Everyone understands the importance of practice. Many a Pro have driven into our heads the mantras of playtesting, testing with good players, getting a lot of sleep, and so forth. These all hold tremendous merit and are to be followed, but they are hardly new concepts. A concept I want to bring up today, inspired by an article in Scientific American, has to do with the "dark matter" of the brain and how we as Magic players can benefit from a greater understanding of our most important asset.

The very rudiments of the article explained that neurologists found that there was a lot of "noise" generated by the human mind during daily processing tasks. They wrote this off as one would write off static on a television screen or interference on the radio - that is to say, it was not useful information and was just a byproduct of the brain's intentional computations. It also stood to reason that when a person was forced to concentrate, the brain's overall expenditure of energy would increase. Recent findings have proven this to be exactly the opposite. In fact, the "noise" that was being observed was actually the brain processing vital functions subconsciously. Things like processing input data from the optic nerve are not done on a conscious level though they still need to happen. Additionally, concentration is actually represented by a decrease in brain activity in all areas except the one area on which the thinker is focused.

When you see a card and identify it based on its art, your brain needs to first take the raw data from the optic nerve and convert it into an image that the brain can process. Only then can the brain actually say "Oh, hey, that's Bloodbraid Elf." And only then can your brain say "Well, I'm probably playing against Jund." For the technologically-minded, these are the daemons, the system processes that run regardless of what applications you are using at the moment.

How does computer and neuroscience relate to Magic? Most players will agree that most games of Magic at the tournament level are lost because of a small handful of mistakes. These may be conscious assertions, such as "I'm the aggressor here", or they may be something as simple as forgetting Knight of the White Orchid has First Strike. That is, they may be conscious mistakes based on an incorrect interpretation of the game state or they can be simple "blunders" due to overlooking a detail. Either way, it's our job as players to minimize these mistakes, and I see no better way to do that than to alter the way we practice.

Perfection is an ideal, and as one approaches perfection, one's returns on effort become increasingly small

Practice makes perfect is a load of bullshit. There has never been a perfect game of Magic played, and there probably never will be. Perfection is an ideal, and as one approaches perfection, one's returns on effort become increasingly small. Practice makes possible. Many musicians will echo this, especially the classically-trained. You will play as you practice. This was drilled into my head in High School by a Physics teacher who was the faculty mentor for our Academic Challenge trivia team. We were one of the top teams in the country during my senior year, and while having a lot of young brilliant minds helped, our coach really made us what we were. The lesson was further instilled in college, where I studied music for four years. Despite these all being different disciplines, the underlying concept remains the same.

Our minds only have so much "CPU power", to return to the computing analogy. They also only have so much RAM. CPU power is the ability to crunch numbers on the fly, and RAM is the ability to store information, short-term, in your head. Now, no extra points are awarded in Magic for having a great memory or for being a quick processor. Thus, any way you can advantage yourself within the scope of the rules would be welcome. I personally have a documented deficiency with my short term memory. To make a long story short, I can process an obscene amount of information very quickly, but I have the hardest time retaining any information in the short-term. As you can imagine this makes Magic somewhat difficult from time to time. I'm lucky that DCI floor rules allow generous note-taking - I write down EVERYTHING these days. My lack of a working memory is complemented by great notes on relevant game information, so my handicap is reduced greatly.

The issue arises when someone gets this new information and brings it to a tournament. I remember vividly reading a Mike Flores article about Operations. Himself, BDM, and some of the other NYC players got obsessed with Ops before a PTQ somewhere in New England. They became so obsessed that they overlooked glaring errors in their meticulously preprepared deck lists and suffered because of it. The human brain is exceptional at extrapolating patterns. When your brain processes visual stimuli, it actually makes vague approximations of what you see because otherwise, it would spend all of its processing power noting every visible detail. Looking at a piece of fabric with an intricate weave, my brain "gets the gist" of the texture. It does not note the place and position of every fiber, but it can make a good approximation thereof. This is why establishing good practice routines is absolutely essential to proper tournament preparation.

One mistake can lose a game. One game can turn a match. One match can knock you out.

Many players find that going to tournaments is a somewhat exciting, novel experience. There's a sense of wide-eyed wonder and a hope that is more often than not dashed by the end of round 4 or 5. Getting past this stage is one that I believe to be most important in the development of good players. Most tournaments will go down the same way, but to make a better example, let's use a Pro Tour Qualifier. It is reasonable to assume that a PTQ player is playing the event to win the Grand Prize. To be more specific, a player who is playing to win a PTQ must first make the Top 8 and then win 3 matches. To make Top 8, you must win approximately 6-7 matches on the day. Thus, your margin of error is low. One mistake can lose a game. One game can turn a match. One match can knock you out. There is an extraordinary amount of pressure on the player to play technically correct Magic at every turn, and as such, the brain's ONLY job on the day is to play technically correct Magic.

This is where practice comes in. Obviously, practice with your deck of choice is important for many reasons, but simply practicing the correct way with any deck will dramatically increase your odds of playing well on the big day. Your brain, as we have discussed, is quite good at extrapolation. Let's give it a chance to flex its muscles by practicing as we play. The idea is to give your mind a sufficient number of reference experiences so that when it comes time to play for all the prizes, it can focus on the task at hand. If you'd forgotten, that task is to play technically correct Magic.

How do we get to that point? Well, let's talk about all the factors that go into our original example of a PTQ grinder. Breaking down a typical PTQ, we can guess that your travel time will be between 1 and 4 hours, it will begin around 10am, you will play 6-8 rounds of Swiss and a Top 8, matches will be timed at 50 minutes, and you will be playing the same deck all 6-8 rounds, sideboarding after only one game. You'll probably be getting up earlier than you are used to, eating differently throughout the day, and if it's a whole weekend of events, you'll probably have distractions elsewhere to fight off. You'll probably be somewhat tense, if not outright nervous.

Let's compare that to how many of us play outside a PTQ. You'll probably travel anywhere between 5 and 20 minutes to get to a friend's house or store, in the late afternoon at earliest after you've been awake all day. You'll play as much or as little as you like, with whatever decks you damn well please, sideboarding when it suits your mood. Your matches will go on and on, sometimes stopping to talk out a play (which is fine, I should add). You'll be on a normal daily schedule, and your mind will probably be wandering in and out of focus, which is fine, since Family Guy is on TV and that show's sometimes a little funny. You'll be relaxed, probably joking with your opponent, who also happens to be a good friend.

How do those two compare? In the mind of this writer, it seems like you're practicing Checkers to get better at Chess. You're not even playing the same damned game.

I have a proposition for you. This is for the hardcore, and it's more than a little "out there." Find a serious playtest partner or two (it's best if you do this in multiples of two) and build a gauntlet. Get up early one morning on a weekend, meet at someone's house, and simulate a tournament. Bonus points if you can wrangle a local judge to officiate for you, but that's asking a lot. Submit deck lists (to no one in particular if you haven't got anyone), set a timer, and play. No stopping to get Taco Bell. No take-backs. 1 game pre-board against an unknown deck, then finish out the match. Put yourself under the strain of a tournament and if at all possible, make yourself miserable. This may seem like a lot of work, which it honestly is. There will be people saying "Isn't there an easier way?" Sure there is. Pony up $25 bucks and find the nearest PTQ. Play in it. Aside from the fact that your odds of winning a PT slot increase with each PTQ you play, the practice of going through the motions will be invaluable.

You'll get a lot of margin out of little things like timing your rounds, but there's one more tiny little thing that I find helps me retain a little bit of "CPU percentage." I like to keep my operations exactly the same between my games. I mean that. I have my library oriented horizontally, on my left-hand side, sleeve tops facing to the right. I have my graveyard oriented vertically with each card staggered to show the name and mana cost. My play area is sorted with lands close to me, creatures in front of me, and enchantments and artifacts above my library (this is so I can make sure I monitor continuous effects before/as I draw for the turn). Any tokens generated will be stacked, like land, when they are en-masse. I group dual lands on my left, man-lands in the middle (or with the duals if I want to be tricksy), and single-color lands on my right. My score pad near my right hand will divide the play area on its left from my dice, tokens and sideboard on my right. Sideboard cards are divided from the main deck in my deck box by some tokens, with the sideboard and main deck facing inwards. This way, I do not give up information when I unbox my deck to start a match.

You're focusing on bullshit that you should have already squared away by having good habits

Seems pretty defined, doesn't it? It is. It's very anal-retentive, but it takes some much-needed focus from petty operations and shifts it towards playing technically correct Magic. Are you focusing on the match at hand if you have to ask to borrow a pen? What life totals they have? Whether you made a land drop? No. You're focusing on bullshit that you should have already squared away by having good habits, and you only develop those habits by practicing them when you're not in a tournament. Now, I'm not saying that keeping your deck horizontally on your left will win you a Pro Tour, but I don't think about anything other than the match at hand when I sit down to play. I know my pen is in my right pocket, my dice are in my deck box, and I know where everything goes on the table.

The same is true for night-before preparation. If you're going to a PTQ that's 2 hours away, you're probably waking up with the dawn. I know I'm not at my best at that hour, and you're probably just as bad as I am. I wish it were a lie, but there have been times that I've almost forgotten my deck while packing for a tournament in the morning. Your goal on the day of the tournament is, as I have repeated many times, to play technically correct Magic. Nothing else. Your job is not to coordinate rides, locate cards, write a deck list, brew a deck, or any thing else. You simply need to arrive at the event location with 75 cards, a decklist, and a mind focused on nothing but technical play.

Your pre-tournament routine should begin the afternoon before. Your ride and, if applicable, lodging should be long since established. You should be in possession of every card in your deck. I don't care if that means going out of your way to borrow cards. If you're thinking about it on the day of the event, you're not giving full brain power to technical play. Your deck should be sleeved in the sleeves you plan to play the next day, and anything at all you intend to bring with you should be packed. I go as far as to prepare food and drink for the next day and even lay out my clothes. Again, sounds pretty anal, but it works. You should wake up in the morning and be able to just get in the car and go if necessary. You'll probably be on less sleep than normal, so by taking fatigue out of the equation by packing the night before, you really have no brain-intensive tasks to stress you out. Combine this with the fact that you are, if you followed the aforementioned advice, well-versed in the stressors of the tournament scene, and that you have an automatic pre-match procedure to follow, and your brain will be almost entirely devoid of things to process. Except one. Playing technically correct Magic.

It's not relevant how smart you are. There are people out there, at least one of whom is named Jon Finkel, who have an innate understanding of the game and its underlying forces. As a Music student, I was fascinated with young virtuosi and their development. It was said that Mozart never had to study Music. He was born with an innate understanding of the art. The same can be said for the true greats in many fields. It may hurt the ego to admit this, but if you're past the age of 12 or so, and you're not already one of the best, you're probably not the Mozart of Magic. That's OK, because there are scores upon scores of players, both Musical and Magical, who become great due to their work ethic. I'm almost 26 years old and I'm only now starting to threaten to Top 8 at serious events.

I think it's safe to say that I'm no prodigy! For the longest time, I wanted to think myself special, some sort of secret genius at the game of Magic the Gathering. Clearly, that is not the case, or else I'd be on Tour right now. Once you accept that there is an upper limit to the functioning of your brain and that you, like me, are probably not a virtuoso, you'll realize how important it is to maximize your brain's resources by smoothing out your operations. Magic's a game of inches -- of microns, really. One tiny play can have a butterfly effect on the game, and as such, you need to garner every single inch of advantage you can. Combining technically correct play, which is the domain of far stronger players than myself, with proper operations, can quickly add percentage to your games.

When you execute this type of operational, logistical strategy properly, you most likely will not notice anything at all. The feeling will be almost neutral. This will be a welcome change to some, who are used to tournaments being hectic and stressful. When your only concern is the game at hand, you will achieve a Zen-like focus, if only for lack of other things to contemplate. It's a tough pill to swallow, but most of us need to practice more than we do. There are two ways to be great at this game. Jon Finkel was born with a brilliant mind, even amongst the genius that seems to be the norm around the Magic community. You can't control whether or not you were born smart or talented, and it's not relevant whether or not you were! It is difficult to really evaluate one's own talent. You're your own worst critic and biggest fan, and those around you will rarely be honest or will lack the framework to evaluate your skill.

If we simply assume that our own skill level is unknowable, we actually obtain a lot of valuable information. Let's make a truth table to indicate the potential states of genius/talent and the possible outcomes of practice or lack thereof.

1. You're A Genius & You Don't Practice - Because you think you're a genius
2. You're A Genius & You Practice - Because you think you need to
3. You're An Average Joe & You Don't Practice - Because you think you're a genius
4. You're An Average Joe & You Practice - Because you think you need to

Those are all possible outcomes. We can clearly identify the best and worst outcomes - B is preferable, since natural talent is only amplified by practice. C is the worst, because you think you're better than you are and you don't practice, thus, you probably scrub out a lot. This is particularly insidious because if you continue thinking yourself some sort of virtuoso while you're losing, you'll lose your grasp on reality as a whole and probably go on Full Life Tilt. That will demolish your focus like no other.

Remembering that we decided that one's own genius or lack thereof is an unknowable trait, we can only decide along one axis: that is, to practice or not. If you decide that no matter how talented you are, you will practice as hard as possible, then you'll probably get great results. Since you can't control your own level of talent, it is basically irrelevant because you worked so hard. In the unlikely scenario that you are actually a secret genius, yet you still practice as hard as you can, then you'll probably end up as one of the game's all-time greatest players. It's easy to see that, when faced with the uncertainty of your innate talent, the only correct option is to practice as if you're desperate to improve.

I'll leave you with a paraphrased quote from my college piano teacher. I hated that woman with every fiber of my being, but it was one of the most important things I ever learned in any walk of life. I'm directing this at everyone who's struggling to get better.