“You are not your results, and your results are not you.”
“You’re a lot better than you give yourself credit for.”
“A writer that no one’s ever heard of, how’d he get to write for SCG anyways? Don’t you have to actually be good?”
I am not giving you a John Cena “but I bounce back and persevere!” superhero story.
I am giving you myself, fleshed out and real.
The grind is a brutal journey to embark on, and the crash and burn is a lot different when the public eye is always watching you.
For the viewer, it’s very easy to look at these players and judge their entire worth on a play that you may agree or disagree on. For the entry-level
grinder, it’s fascinating to see the players you aspire to be sitting right in front of you at the feature match table. You want to get in their head,
think like they do, and possibly do as well, if not better than them.
For me, it’s one, long, slow, grueling process, though it often doesn’t feel that way.
Friday morning. Wake up. Read and study articles. Pack your clothes and cards, and get ready to ride (or nowadays, sometimes fly) to an event a trillion
miles away. Arrive at location with ample time to write down my decklist and have it ready by the morning.
Saturday morning. Wake up, usual morning stuff. Head to the event site. Say my usual hellos to staff, coverage, and the rest of my friends and players.
Maybe I get a chance to relax before I come off my byes.
“Can I get a sideboard guide for these five matchups?”
“What do you think about this
75
?”
Oh! Uhh…
I can try and help, though I might not have the answer you’re looking for?
Umm…Maybe try an extra Encase in Ice if you need more help against Stormbreath Dragons. What about…
“What deck are you playing? Is that deck good? I’m like 21-2 against it in game
1
s!”
I…don’t kn…
“Hey Lowry! What’s your record? What did you play against!?”
I haven’t…
“Can you write about this deck? Do you like this card? How do I beat Shardless Sultai as Sneak and Show? Hey Lowry.”
“Lowry-zt!?”
“Bzz-Hey-zt!!!”
“Bzzzt!”
I flinch and come to my senses due to a text message. “Good luck today!” says Charlotte.
Still flustered.
“Pairings for round three have been posted!”
Oh…alright, let’s do this then…
…
Oh, I lost.
It’s fine, there’s more tournament to play…
Snap!
Sunday morning. Wake up at the hotel. Modern Premier IQ deck written out.
Blur…
“That deck takes no skill to play!”
“How do you ever beat a Kor Firewalker?”
“Really? Deflecting Palm? Seems bad! LOL!”
I don’t think that my way of thinking is better or worse than anyone else’s. That’s what makes the game so good, right?
“You should probably just play better decks” – Brad Nelson
“You should figure out what works best for you and your playstyle and go with it.” – Andy Boswell
Conflicted.
What? I should do what I want to do? I should do what’s best? What if what I think is best isn’t even close to what actually is best? What if I’m wrong
every single time?
Does it even matter?
“Why are you so good at building decks that other people win with?”
“You’re the only player on the top
16
leaderboard that hasn’t top 8’d an Open!”
“I’m really mad at you. You gotta keep your head straight. You keep having these breakdowns over social media, and it’s killing you. I want to see you
succeed, we all do, but doing that is not helping.” – Jim Davis
Easy for someone that’s way better than me to say…Wait, no no no. I honestly didn’t mean that. That’s just my frustration talking. Argh.
What am I even doing?
I have the privilege of being able to travel the country playing the game that I love, having the best platform in the game to write and talk about the
game that I love, and have a group of friends that aren’t just a bunch of people that thrive off of talking each other down and being miserable to each
other. Why am I letting all of this get to me so much? I’ve had a fantastic year; my best in my career. Too many people around us only want to bring others
down to make themselves feel better. There are these expectations when we see a typical Magic player in a competitive environment. If they’re relatively
unknown, they’re looked down upon for being just that, to no fault of their own. They’re a “random,” subject to berating and judgment of skill if they do
so much as tap their lands the wrong way. If they’re a public figure, they must follow an unwritten code of conduct that includes playing perfectly,
behaving exactly how the masses expect them to behave (then maybe you won’t get called out on Twitter for not being what they want you to be).
Do I care too much? Definitely so, but I care too much because it needs to change.
The stigma of the Magic player needs to change. The stigma of the Magic player to another Magic player needs to change.
A player’s worth is much more than their record in a tournament, number of top 8s, or Pro Tour appearances. A player’s experiences at the Commander table
is just as valuable as a player’s experiences at a Grand Prix top 8. A player that doesn’t fit your criteria of what a Magic player should look like is
just as important as you.
If you’re too busy talking about how bad your opponent is, you’re part of the problem.
If you’re taking away from other players’ experiences in any way, you’re part of the problem.
This means that I, too, have been part of the problem.
I was frustrated, I was upset, at not only the people that were negatively affecting me, but the people that were positively affecting me. I would
feel belittled because it was always players that were successful that would talk to me. My thoughts of them not knowing what it’s like to struggle for
this long was so incredibly wrong, and I realize just how awful of a thing it was to think that. I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by people who want me to
get better, and I’m throwing that back at them. I threw cards on the table after losing a win-and-in at an IQ. Many things that you probably couldn’t stand
about the more unfriendly Magic players, I was starting to do. I was becoming what I hated, and it compounded the frustration. That wasn’t me. What the
hell was I thinking? I’m not about that. I know I’m not about that.
It’s one of the worst things I could do to the game. And it’s on me to fix that. To fix all of it. Every last one of us is an ambassador for our community,
our culture, and the game that encompasses it. It’s our job to help the game grow, not just for me, or you, but for everyone. It doesn’t matter how much
you like Legacy over Modern. If someone enjoys Modern, encourage them to do so. It doesn’t matter if you think that Mono-Red takes no skill. If someone
enjoys playing that as their Commander deck, then encourage them to do that! In fact, it often doesn’t matter what any of us think when it comes to another
player’s enjoyment of the game. Your role is to guide them where they want to go, not where you think they should go.
I don’t care how many Grand Prix or Pro Tour wins you have, how long you’ve been grinding, or how smart or good you think you are or someone else is. You
take away from someone else’s enjoyment of the game, you take away from the game itself. And I want the game to grow. I want it to succeed more than I want
to eat or sleep.
“Maybe you should take a break.”
“You’re stressing too much!”
(Insert generic statement that has been heard over and over again.)
My mind doesn’t just “take a break.” The feeling of working hard is very enjoyable. Taking a break is not something that helps me in the traditional sense.
Working “too” hard is how I feel productive, and things don’t get done otherwise.
But I recognize the problem, and I will fix it. I have to.
We’re all used to the stories about how one bounces back from adversity, but we don’t experience actually going through it. I am not the emotionless robot
that I’m expected to be, and that’s okay.
Now let’s get better.
Dude, what are you talking about!?
What?
Weren’t you going to register your deck for the Open?
Wait, what day is it? Saturday!?
Creatures (28)
- 4 Elvish Mystic
- 4 Sylvan Caryatid
- 4 Fleecemane Lion
- 3 Courser of Kruphix
- 4 Den Protector
- 3 Dragonlord Ojutai
- 4 Deathmist Raptor
- 2 Surrak, the Hunt Caller
Lands (24)
Spells (8)
