Alex Hayne: “So how’d you go in Limited?”
Me: “5-1. You?”
Alex: “6-0. But now I have to play Constructed again, and this deck is terrible.”
— our conversation from round 12
Lesson 1: Starting 2-3 doesn’t mean you’re not going to win the Pro Tour.
Almost everyone has a story like this. They’re great stories, because they teach you to not give up. If you lost early on, maybe your pool is terrible, or
your deck is terrible, or your whole testing process is flawed…but maybe you ran unusually badly. Maybe, just maybe, your luck could change.
At Grand Prix: Brisbane last year, I took quick losses in two of the first four rounds I played. They were doubly frustrating, both because they were 0-2
losses and because I was never in any of the four games. My deck didn’t show up and I got stomped off the table. I did manage to scrape out the win in
round 8 to make day 2, but surely – surely – I couldn’t pull off the five straight needed to make the top 8. I’d just die to Dungrove Elders
again.
Surely.
Then I got eight straight wins and won the tournament. Maybe U/B control was all right after all, who knew? People who didn’t jump to conclusions after
four games, possibly.
Flashback to eighteen months before that. At Pro Tour San Juan, Paulo Vitor Damo da Rosa became the first player to win a Pro Tour after losing round 1. In
fact, he lost both rounds 1 and 2, and his tiebreakers were so bad that he had to play round 16 instead of ID’ing in. That counts up to a 16-1 streak. Sixteen and one.
Could he have done it if he’d given up hope at the outset? Not a chance.
At Pro Tour: Paris, I turned 0-3 and contemplating dropping into 12-4 and Top 16. Raphael Levy did the same thing at Pro Tour Nagoya three months later.
Dave Crewe, who won Grand Prix: Melbourne earlier this year, lost two rounds out of his first four. Kai Budde, 0-2 at Grand Prix: Madrid, was talked out of
dropping and went on to win the whole darn thing.
So don’t assume that things are going to continue badly just because they’ve started off that way. In fact:
Lesson 2: Don’t make assumptions!
I have to admit something.
No, it’s not that I’m gay, although I do secretly like Mika‘s music, and that one Backstreet Boys track is kinda catchy.
It’s also not true that I’ve got dirt on LSV from his former days as a stripper and he has to throw matches against me to avoid public humiliation. I don’t
even know how that one got started.
The thing I have to admit is this: our team missed Wolfir Silverheart.
“How could it be?” you might well ask. “One of the most efficient, enormous creatures ever to see print? A 12/12? For five mana? Spectral
Force was smaller, and it saw Standard play.”
Don’t get me wrong – we knew there was potential there. We knew there would likely be green midrange decks in block, and their five-drop slot would include
Silverhearts. But we assumed it wouldn’t drastically affect the metagame. We assumed Vorapede was similarly good, if not better – it
couldn’t be chump blocked, or Blasphemous Acted, and it didn’t need a friend. We assumed we didn’t need a lot of cards that could deal with it,
and that Dissipates and chump blocking would be sufficient.
In fact, we were so busy assuming we didn’t have any time to test. I played a few games at the start to identify how big of a problem Silverheart
was for us (very). Past that, the subject of testing against Naya midrange would come up from time to time, but we were more interested in various Entreat
the Angels control builds. Total testing time against Naya: about one hour, the night before the PT, when we were all dog tired and more interested in
arguing about precise numbers of sideboard cards than results of the actual games.
The Pro Tour metagame breakdown worked out to be 25% Naya and probably 40% Silverhearts. We asked a member of one of the other teams if they were maxing
out on Silverhearts in their green midrange build.
He gave us a strange look. “Of course,” he said. “Everyone is.”
Awkward.
This was the deck I played:
Creatures (8)
Planeswalkers (2)
Lands (25)
Spells (25)
It wasn’t a bad deck. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a good deck, either. We expected the most popular deck to be Boros, and we did have an excellent
matchup against Silverblade Paladin and friends. Fettergeist and Huntmaster are more powerful than any creature they play, and the suite of burn spells
ensures Paladin and Hellrider never get too far out of hand.
The problem is decks that go bigger than you. 12/12, for example, is much bigger than you. Sigarda is also larger than anything you play, and
can’t be Volleyed or Devil’s Played. A lot of draws you get actually lose to five lands, Sigarda, Wolfir Silverheart, provided two of those lands are
Cavern of Souls.
Awkward.
Each of us lost a match or two to Wolfir Silverheart and a match or two to normal, Magic stuff. The opponents having a more reasonable number of lands than
you – things like that. Most of the matches I won were sweats, absolute grinds, that involved chumping Wolfir Silverheart for multiple turns, flipping
Huntmaster back and forth, and finally Brimstone Volleying and Devil’s Playing for exactly lethal while on two life. Things like that.
I ended up 5-5 in Constructed, although one of those losses was a concession to Shahar Shenhar. He had a chance of making platinum with two wins, and all I
was playing for was glory and $500 or so.
That leads me to:
Lesson 3: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
In the final round of Worlds 2010, Helmut Summersberger and Nick Spagnolo conceded to myself and Ian Wood. That let the Australian National team make the
finals, which gave me the Pro points to lock up Level 7 benefits. It was worth a lot to me and it wasn’t worth anything to them. Did Helmut know
me? Not at all, he’s just a decent guy who felt like helping a guy out.
Gerry Thompson also conceded to me in the final round of Worlds last year, which got me 100 lifetime Pro points. Prior to that, I’d spoken to him maybe
twice.
My point is not that GerryT and Helmut Summersberger are both gentlemen and scholars, although they certainly are. My point is that when you stand to win a
lot, and your opponent is gracious enough to concede, it’s awesome. I would never expect anyone to concede, no matter the circumstances. But expecting them
to is different from being grateful if they do.
For that reason, it wasn’t a very hard decision to concede to Shahar when I found myself in the reverse situation. I’ve benefited enough times from other
people being awesome, the least I can do is reciprocate.
Lesson 4: Don’t believe everything you hear…
Jon Finkel versus Alexander Hayne, game 5 of the quarterfinals. There are two versions of this story, depending on if you listen to the coverage team or
the judge team.
The coverage team version:
It’s game 5 of the Pro Tour quarterfinals. Thousands of dollars are on the line. The pressure is palpable, cracking is unavoidable. And alas! Alex
Hayne presents a 65-card deck. The poor, simple fool! Playing in his first Pro Tour top 8, no less! The implacable judges converge, prepared to issue
the unavoidable game loss, depriving the audiences of their show, the game of its integrity, the moment of its beauty.
But nay! For Jon Finkel – yes, he of the fourteen top 8s – doth speak from on high – “Let it not be so! It shall not pass, for I, Finkel, decree that
no game shall be won or lost in this Pro Tour top 8 by such inequitable means. We shall duel in the proper fashion. I spurn the judges’ offer of a free
$30 000, in favour of honour, righteousness, and the trust of this sacred community.”
Women swoon in the audience, the “Hallelujah” chorus breaks out, the mayor of Barcelona arrives to pay tribute to the fine upstanding citizen that is
Jon Finkel, a statue is dedicated to him in the Plaza Espanya. Etc.
Alternatively, the judge team version:
Alex Hayne presents a 65-card deck, but catches himself and calls a judge before any advantage can be gained. Due to the nature of the offence, the
Level 3 present issues a routine downgrade to the normal penalty of a game loss, and has Alex re-sideboard for game 5. This process is aided by Jon
Finkel’s ready agreement and acceptance, and the match proceeds without a hitch.
Which story do you believe? I don’t want to take anything away from Jon here. I’d like all my opponents to have his level of sportsmanship. A lesser player
would have wanted the game loss to stick and appealed the decision. Jon genuinely did want to play the match out to determine the winner – he didn’t want a
Pro Tour result decided by a misclick – and for that he deserves nothing but respect.
That said, the facts of the case may have been a wee bit exaggerated by those looking for a good story. Can you blame them? It has it all – Jonny Magic
himself, miracles, money, suspense, high drama, the good guys winning in the end. But I’ve seen a few judges very annoyed at the coverage team for
presenting such a biased view of events.
The judges are there to do their job, and at the very highest level of play you also get the very highest level of judging. That involves using a thing
called “judgment.” Given it was fairly clear Alex was not trying to gain any sort of advantage, and given he called the judge on himself, and given the
mistake was easily reversible, what’s your rational expectation as to what the penalty should be? A game loss is excessive. That’s the same penalty as
would be applied to someone who “forgot” to remind his opponent of Howling Mine triggers, three times.
Lesson 5: You don’t always get what you want…
I ended up 64th in Barcelona. Not an awful result, right? At least I cashed. But it leaves me four points shy of platinum and seven points shy
of making the Players’ Championship, with Tzu Ching Kuo swooping in with his Top 16 to take the APAC slot.
But you can’t measure your success with results. Magic is a game of percentages. If you play as well as you can, there’s nothing else you can do. Congrats
to Tzu Ching Kuo for his excellent performance, and similarly to the rest of the Top 8 competitors.
Next time in Seattle!
Until then,
Jeremy
@JeremyNeeman
on Twitter