PTQ Mainz report -- How to not qualify
Eric Taylor
If you're looking for a winning tournament report look elsewhere. If
you want a list of the winners of these ptq's I write about, so sorry.
This report isn't really about magic, it's about being on the road.
If you haven't been winning tournaments recently and you want a tale of
trials and failures to cheer you up, then this is the report for you.
* * *
Leaving New York City. Once again no prize. The sun sets on
Manhattan. Rich Frangioso, Pat Chapin and myself are in the car going
through the Lincoln tunnel, Rich driving. He drives 85 scattering the
New Jersey drivers like pigeons.
Rich and I got through the swiss no problem, Rich at #1 seed, myself at
#3 seed. Bad. We would be seated next to each other. In #8 seed was
a very poor magic player. In sealed deck, the luck is in opening the
packs. In draft, the luck is trying to sit next to the tool. After
the tournament I learn #8 passed a disintegrate clockwise to my 1st
round opponent in favor of a terror.
I lost in the 1st round of the final eight. I just have one rule. If
you are qualified for the pro tour you are a playa. If not, you are a
scrub. You can call me Mr. Scrub.
The 1st game, my opponent gets a quick start with a breezekeeper,
mystic veiling 2 of my solutions to it, but I have the elkin bottle, so
I figure I have to be able to catch him. I elkin bottle my way down to
5 cards left in my library. All the while I say to myself, "Come on,
wrath, waterspout or rat anything to stop his stupid breezekeeper."
Then I go down to 4 life. Well, never mind rat you are too late. Of
course, next turn I draw my rat. Right. Ok, come on wrath or
waterspout. I draw nothing. They are the last 2 cards. I die. This
is insane, how can I lose when I have drawn 10 more cards than him?
But I do. I win easy the next game on his color screw. The last game,
I set up for my wrath, drop my horde of creatures afterwards including
fat diabolic machine. I need only a few turns to take him out but I'm
a bit low in life. I had used my remedies to stop the disintegrate
already. He has one card. Detonate. Ouch. Thank your sir. You can
call me Mr. Scrub.
Rich had to crash for the driving after Jersey, and I take the wheel.
It rains and drizzles. Even the clouds are dark. Cold wind seeps
through the Taurus.
I put on "Barbie Girl" by Aqua. On infinite repeat.
"Hi Barbie. Hi Ken. You wanna go for a ride? Sure Ken. Jump in! I'm
a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. Laughing plastic. It's fanastic.
You can brush my hair. Undress me anywhere. Come on Barbie let's go
Party! Ah ah ah Yeah!"
The world is so cruel. And Barbie's so nice.
I was in Detroit trying to grab the ring a couple weeks before. Team
CMU was there in force, team Canada in force, six or so pros running
blocking and interference. I don't care. I'll grin and take on
anyone, let me just be lucky that's all I ask. I opened up a red/black
in swiss. Beatdown. I was so happy to face Randy Buehler early on. I
always beat him. That is I always used to beat him before he became
the champ. My beatdown machine draws 15 land and 5 spells. That is
not good. In the 2nd game, I'm trying desparately to play fast, and
accidentally play a panic before combat. Randy forces me to take mana
burn or cast a spell, so I quickly cast a red spell. I had meant to
play stone rain, giving me time to apply beatdown but I made a fatal
mistake and instead threw down a raging gorilla. Game. Randy gets his
revenge for all the times I kept him out of the pro tour. Next I face
Gary Krackower. I always lose to Gary. Today was no exception. He
gets a quick 1st game victory and, in the second game, I let him hit me
with a tar pit a few times, blow it away and gain control of the ground
game. He plays a fallen angel, plays a rat next turn, rats for 3, eats
4 creatures including the rat and flies over. 3 + 3 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 +
3 + 3 = 20. I look up shocked. "You hit me, what 2 times with a tar
pit and once with a fallen angel?" Like getting hit over the head with
a crowbar. No mercy.
I don't even make the final eight in my home town.
The rain doesn't let up. We drive into a small truck stop somewhere in
Pennsylvania, I stumble out, look for a stick of beef jerky, buy a
strip.
Back in the car I look at it. Black. Solid pure black. I taste it.
Bad. It's black for a reason. The tournament life is a highway of
sleeplessness and food not fit for a pig. Instead of sucking the sweet
nectar from the nipple, you have to settle for droppings when you're on
the road like Jack Keroauc.
"Get up you're asleep at the wheel. Get up you're asleep at the
wheel. I-95 eight lanes wide. Midnight drive take a ride. Bloodshot
red eyes from the fumes. So far to go but can't turn back though."
(Bloodhound Gang)
The very night before Detroit I was in Sandusky, another all day all
night, no sleep event. I made the final eight, working up to the
finals without too much trouble in a weak field for this single spot
event. Then I play a medium talented player.
Sometimes you know it will happen. Like when a bum pitches a shutout.
Even a scrub can make the right play. He drafts right, plays right.
He doesn't make a mistake. There's no miracle here. It just happens.
Sometimes he will play everything right. I have no problems with
that. The problem is when he is lucky too. The first game my opponent
squirmed in his seat as I took 10 mintues to think about a play. He
called the judge over. The judge reminded him that the finals were
unlimited time. I just told him to be quiet I had to think. I then
played quickly when the decisions to make were easy, but it all didn't
matter, he was on fire. The 3rd game, he portented me, left me some
land, cast undo and whack! The end. My fallen angel wasn't enough for
1st, just 2nd place and no invite. Who's the pro now?
I stopped again in the hills of Pennsylvania in Dubois. The store
owner called his town of Dubois "Dew Boys". He was talking to his
friend at 5am about how you need this huge backup battery out where the
electricity isn't too reliable and how you need your zip because with
these huge drives, when they get too full they slow down. I thought
that was interesting, as if a computer slowed down like a well-fed hog
if you gave it too much disk data, never mind fragmentation.
He pointed at his cooler. Fresh sandwhiches. They looked ok to me, so
I bought one, got another container of Joe and hit the road again. I
took a bite of the sandwich. Layers and layers of mayonaise, thick
american cheese on white white bread. I felt even more ill than
before.
"Laughing plastic. It's fanatastic. I'm a girl in a fantasy world.
You're my doll rock'n roll kiss me there. Hanky Panky. You can
touch. You can play. You can say I'm all yours. You can brush my
hair, undress me everywhere. Come on Barbie let's go party! Ahh ahh
ahh Yeah."
In Columbus I faced team CMU and knocked them over, Silberman, Turian,
all except Lauer. He hurt me in the swiss with this combo: lure +
basilisk + flood. He laughed and said the kids would love it. Even
worse, I had to meet him in the final 4. In the draft, Lauer and I
both avoided black because we thought the other would draft it, giving
a huge deck to Means. I later learned that he had "figured out how to
beat my style." I didn't even realize I had a style. Apparently my
style is to "do nothing", reacting and counterpunching. Lauer's
solution to this was to add a land to his deck. Ingenius. And another
loss for me.
"We'll be singing when we're winning. We'll be singing. I get knocked
down but I get up again you're never going to keep me down. I get
knocked down but I get up again you're never going to keep me down. He
sings the songs that remind him of the good times. He sings the songs
that remind him of the bad times." (Chumbawamba)
I had gotten so close so many times I could almost taste victory, but
it was never to be.
Indianapolis was a close thing for me to make the final eight. I
struggled and squeezed in at number 8 seed. Once again I made the
final 4, and then with the games tied 1 apiece, I had to think. "What
if he has an X-spell?" I had my rat, my blue creatures, a variety of
options. I added it up again and again. If he drew a land and had an
X-spell in hand he won. If he had a land in hand and drew X he won.
But if he didn't have X I should win. I had to rat no matter what I
finally decided. I looked at him, and I knew by the way he looked back
at me that he had X in his hand. He top decked a land and blew me
away. Game. Another 3rd-4th place.
I was having trouble concentrating on the road, so I woke Chapin and
told him to drive. He asked where we were, and where we were going,
but I told him, "Just drive straight. If I told you where we are, you
might get lost. Wake me in an hour."
The week before that was East Lansing. WOTC is too generous. So many
qualifiers. But once again, it was a single slot.
I drafted my usual control with splash white for several cops to hose
mono-color. I would face Randy Buehler early. He drafted mono black.
I put out the cop after sideboarding. Game. This was before he won PT
Chicago. I think he was easier prey before he became a champ.
I was in the finals again and my opponent was scared to death of me or
perhaps just too nervous from being in the finals. It was 1 game to 1
game, the final game taking the prize. He made so many mistakes. He
wasn't a bad player, it was just that he was giving me every chance to
win, but I had to be like this: No. I am King Scrub. I will not let
you lose. I will only accept 2nd place.
In the final game I draw all blue and play all swamp. I needed
anthing, a black card of any color to block a rat would be fine, an
island, anything at all. I discard again while I was served up a
delicious beatdown. It was so harsh I knew I would be sore from the
beating the next day.
The rain continued through the night.
Driving into Ohio I was reminded of how Rich got a warning from the
State trooper on the way into NYC. He was going 85 as usual, and of
course he was pulled over after the cop checks to make sure he was from
out of state. The trooper yelled at Rich through the window, "Well
boy, you got $100 cash or a credit card, or we going to have to put you
in jail?" Rich said sorry no money at all. The cop was very angry,
wrote out a ticket and gave it to Rich. It was a warning. "You're
never going to see one of these again," he promised. I felt like Rich
should frame it. The cop spun dirt leaving us behind in the highway.
Apparently Rich wasn't even worth the $42 it would cost to put him in
jail for the night.
In Akron, team cmu was in force. In the final eight I was as usual
paired early against Randy Buehler, which gave me confidence.
Randy tried land destruction and speed against me. Good against
someone else, but not me. I love land. I played a land, he blew it
up, I played a land, he blew it up, he played a suq-ata, I played
another land, now here comes fattie! The next match I lived the life
of land glut. Land land land land, I die. Another 3rd-4th place.
"I'm a Barbie Girl in a Barbie World. Laughing Plastic, it's
fantastic."
It had been 5 hours with Barbie in a Barbie World on continuous
repeat. I woke up Rich and told him to drive. We didn't let Patrick
drive very often because he gets lost too easily. While driving around
town the day before to pick me up in Michigan he took an hour getting
from N. Main to S. Main. Somehow he ended up on the expressway and
got lost in a nearby town.
"Where are we?" Rich asked. "Toledo," I said. "Wow, I missed
Pennsylvania again," he said. I crashed in the back seat.
I want to give props to Rich Frangioso who will be on the pro tour for
LA I am sure, and Pat Chapin, Michigan's favorite rude boy and the best
playa in the state.
--- edt
YellowWzrd
>This report isn't really about magic, it's about being on the road.
>If you haven't been winning tournaments recently and you want a tale of
>trials and failures to cheer you up, then this is the report for you.
Despite the article, which by the way was probably one of the better ones ive
ever read about Being on the road and what it takes to qualify for the PT, i
know what most people here in the Metro Detroit area and most people in the
Midwest who know anything about the game know. You are not a scrub. You are
one of the better players in the game. Id say in the top 1% in the world
.
I never wished for anything more then to able to do what you do. Travel and
play magic. Consider yurself lucky that you have that capability. There are
plenty of people like me True Scrubs who would die to be where you are in the
game. I know Rich and ive met and played Pat and Im sure they would agree.
Weather you make Mainz or Not I have no doubts Ill see you back at the PT soon
Not a Fan just a realist whos seen you play
Marc
Captain of Team "Still Looking for a Cool name"
Sorriest Sealed deck player in History.