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Past Mistakes, Future Goals

Brad Nelson has not had a stellar year, and he’s been soul-searching to figure out what happened. This is the story of a man who lost his fire and is getting it back.

The new year is upon us, and it seems like an appropriate time to reflect on the last year of Magic. This may sound like a cliché topic, but this topic is actually one that I have been trying to put onto paper for some time now. The 2011 season looked nothing like the previous one, and I had to dig deep and be honest with myself to find out why. Let’s take a walk down memory lane and see why Fffreak is no longer en fuego. Hopefully this story helps you in some way.

For those of you who followed me through my career, you can easily see how rough of a season I truly had. I just squeaked by, finishing the year with a level-four status. This is very lackluster compared to how I have done over the years and compared to how I perceived my own ability. My goal at the beginning of the year was to at least hit level seven and maybe once again make a run for the prized level eight status. It’s a very difficult prize to achieve, and I knew it would be much more difficult than it was in 2010, since I spiked two different Pro Tours for 32 Pro Points. This was just not the case though.

I was on cloud nine when the season started. I was awaiting the showdown Guillaume Matignon and I would have in Paris for Player of the Year. Player of the Year was something that I did not put much stock into until I was the leader in the race. “Why give up a chance to win something you are in the lead?” was my logic, which gave me additional fire to try to win it. There was a tie, and a playoff made it even cooler. I would play in a match that no other person in the history of the game has ever played in. What would the 17-year-old Magic-playing Brad say if I told him that!?

I was level eight and playing some of the best Magic I could dream of. I ate, drank, and breathed this game.

Mistake #1

The first tournament of the season in 2011 was a Grand Prix in Atlanta. The format was Extended, and I was testing more than ever. I wanted to win this tournament so badly. I wanted to be the leader of the Player of the Year race while the playoff was happening just so BDM would talk about it. I got used to that man talking about me; it was so much fun to see it.

I drove to Minneapolis just to watch a PTQ the week before the Grand Prix and found Matthias Hunt playing a very crazy brew. At the time, Valakut was a popular deck, and there was a Bant version of the deck playing Prismatic Omen to turn every land into a Mountain. Hunt had other plans and made a straight U/G version with Scapeshift and a bunch of ways to turbo lands into play. It was very interesting.

There was actually a very interesting story from this tournament. Matthias was playing against a close friend of his, who was also playing his 75. They played in one of the early rounds and intentionally drew. I talked to him about this because I found it to be a mistake.

Some people find playing against friends very frustrating. You don’t want to be in this situation because not only do you both probably have information about each other, but you are also invested in their tournament as well. You want both of you to win. The problem with a PTQ is that both of you can’t win. The idea of both of you in the finals may be very appealing, but it is illogical and can cost you both the tournament when making decisions like this. In my opinion, friends are not friends at the Magic table. I am not saying you should be rude to them; just play your game, and don’t let the emotion of the situation take over what you are trying to accomplish.

I went home and started grinding this deck day and night. I found myself very prepared to play this deck until I looked at the win percentages from my testing. Mono Red was actually performing the best of all the decks in the format. This was surprising to me, since I had not even considered playing this deck. I started testing it, and it seemed impressive. I ended up playing Mono Red in the tournament and doing poorly.

Mono Red was not very well positioned for the tournament, nor was it a good choice for me. I felt helpless while playing it and was very disappointed with myself for pulling the trigger on the deck. There was no reason for me to not play something that could give me a better edge.

There is a lot to learn from this tournament, but it took me some time to actually do so. What was my biggest mistake? All of them actually stem from the same place. I was playing and making decisions without confidence.

Why was I doing this? I had just finished an amazing year of playing Magic and was, or so I thought, on top of my game. I put more hours into this format than 99% of the field and even had a very off-the-radar list that was more tuned than the ones people were playing.

Mono Red was not the deck to play for many reasons. Sure the deck had the best numbers from my testing, but those could have been wrong (I never took this into consideration). I also have never been a numbers player. I always play from my gut, but I ignored my gut for this tournament. Instead of trusting myself, I trusted the numbers and was wrong. Why play a deck that gives me no chance to outplay my opponents unless deep down I think I cannot?

The next tournament was Paris in which we brought a gun to a knife fight. Out test group was in possession of the most powerful deck in the format, and we didn’t really know it yet. It proved to be so after the Swiss portion of the tournament was over. I sadly went 5-5 with the deck, losing many games to horrible mulligans and such. I still to this day think I was playing great Magic, but what can you do when you mulligan to five with no blue mana and a Stoneforge Mystic? You start racing and praying, and my prayers were never answered.

I wasn’t terribly sad about this. I had the playoff to worry about. The problem was that I was deathly afraid of losing this match. Why would I be? It’s not like we were playing for anything but the title. This was a match that we would play more for the audience than ourselves. Sure, I wanted to win the match, but I knew that it meant more to the masses than to me. Losing the match, however, would make me sick to my stomach. I was cornered into playing a match where I could lose much more than I could gain.

I went into this match thinking the worst; I wasn’t thinking that I was going to crush him. Again, why the hell was this my thought process? I was boarding out Stoic Rebuttals while he was bringing his in. I was way ahead! It all came down to confidence—my lack of it.

I crushed Guillaume in the match and won the title. Most people thought this was going to be the case, but I was just happy I got there. I almost felt like I squeaked over the finish line.

This story kept repeating, event after event, all season without my even knowing it until Worlds rolled around. I had less and less confidence in my ability and my luck, which would have a serious impact on my game.

Confidence is one of the most crucial things to have when playing Magic. It’s actually very difficult to function without it. Decisions are much more difficult to make correctly, and second-guessing yourself becomes second nature without it. It is a very slippery slope. The less confidence you have, the worse you will do, and then you will lose more confidence. This is at least the case for me.

This works both ways as well. The only way I can try to explain how LSV, Owen, and myself went on insane runs is confidence. There is no logical way to look at it. Of course, the run-goods played a major role (or at least the not run-bads), but being able to trust your game decisions is one way to go above and beyond. I know I was making more unique plays last year, resulting in wins that I would not have achieved this year. This year, I slipped into making too many safe plays and lost a higher percentage of games because of this.

Mistake #2…kind of

Confidence is not the only reason things went south. The funny thing about this one is that I don’t know if it actually had an impact on me or not. All I know is it could have been a factor, but I know I am happy that it’s there. This is actually very personal, but don’t worry, I will not go all Todd Anderson on you guys (love you, Todd!).

Magic was #1 in my life ever since I was introduced to the game. That’s my story, right? I was just some kid from North Dakota who did not want to do anything else other than play Magic. I invested more time every year and got very good at the game. I finally made it on the Pro Tour, off of pure will power, and that fueled me to my shot at Player of the Year. Every match felt like life or death.

This caused many problems in my life. Magic was kind of a very subtle drug to me. I invested so much of myself into it that I didn’t see how it was affecting my relationships. Here is a small list of excuses I told my girlfriend over the years for why I had to play Magic.

“Why do all of your friends have to get married on Saturday?”

“Friday Night Magic isn’t a big deal, but neither is your friend’s birthday!”

And my favorite: “To be fair, honey, Magic did come first.”

Of course these excuses were made as jokes, yet I still played in all the events. The point I am trying to make is not that I was a terrible boyfriend (which I was) but that I was very dedicated to Magic, and nothing could change that mindset.

I never cared about being in shape, finishing my degree (everyone I know in my graduating class cannot find work with their degree), or making new non-Magic friends. I just wanted to play Magic, network, and get on the Pro Tour. Once I made it, I couldn’t turn off that mindset. Winning was all that mattered. I had no balance, but you guys at home couldn’t see that. I was just another guy taking over the Pro Tour. In my eyes, I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I was winning the only way I knew how.

This all changed earlier this year when I went out to LA for an SCG Open and some hangouts with great friends. During this trip, Gabe Walls, Luis Scott-Vargas, and I ended up in a weight loss bet that would truly change my life. I never cared about my weight. I of course knew I was a very large guy but couldn’t tell you how much I weighed. This challenge started a change in me. I started to care about things that did not have a power and toughness.

This was the catalyst that started many different transitions in my life. I started to become happier in other outlets. It was the first time that I was making changes instead of ignoring situations and just hiding inside the world of Magic.

The changes started out small, and it’s not like they took me away from the game. I just spent less time invested in Magic. In reality, that meant I played 40-50 hours of Magic a week instead of 80-100. I spent more time with family, which is something I have neglected for years, and became happier with myself.

Earlier I talked about how I wanted to be leading the Player of the Year race in 2011 when playing for the title in 2011. Most of you, including my present self, probably think this was meaningless and even stupid. That is just how my brain was wired. Being on top of Magic was the purest form of happiness that I was able to feel. I couldn’t let it end!

As the season progressed and my performances took a turn for the worse, everything else in my life was on the upswing. I was making a change that I never thought would happen—the strangest of changes. I started feeling poorly about Magic because of my bad performances and was very happy in the real world. It was a complete 180 from how my life was a year ago.

Mistake #3

It is safe to say that the story of my season does not make too much sense. “So you’re saying you think you are worse at Magic, but you are investing less time into the game?” is probably what you are thinking, and you are pretty much correct. This alone could be the reason for a weak year, but in the end it was not that. The true culprit was the way I viewed my performance and matches.

Every loss made me think that more losses were to come because of the confidence issues I was having, but it was only because I was being results oriented. Being results oriented goes hand in hand with confidence. Alone, these things can show an impact on a person’s game, but together they are just devastating.

Every time Luis or Owen lost a match this year, they would logically reason with themselves to find the problem. Every time I lost a match, I would think, “What did I do wrong? I must have made a mistake.” I started thinking in the short term. Every loss was still the end of the world, but instead of being matches, they were tournaments.

Being results oriented is a major flaw that many players have. Magic is a game based on a high percentage of variance, no matter how good you are. The best players in the world rarely break a 70% win percentage in any given year. I was right on the cusp of that when I took home the Player of the Year title. You lose a high percentage of games no matter who you are.

These runs of variance can feel like they never end if you let them take over and lower your confidence in your game. I forgot that the best way to approach Magic was to view a loss the same way you do a win. You look back at what you did wrong, regardless of result, and work on fixing the holes in your game. What happened in the games is irrelevant if you are not learning from them.

I forgot to do this. I started to just pray for wins and forgot to look inside myself for why things were happening. Without grounding myself, I spiraled into the darkest place I could have ever imagined. I had no faith in my abilities as a Magic player and didn’t even know why I was going to events. This had to change and did. It changed since Worlds. I only discovered how important Magic was to me when I found myself fighting for my very professional survival on day three of Worlds.

I now know what my problems are and how to fix them. The first step is to have balance in life, not just run away from my problems. I ran away from life when Magic was great but turned around and ran away from Magic this last year when I started to struggle. I just won’t let myself do this anymore. Magic is far too important to me to think this way. Now that I know these are the issues, I can finally start tackling them before they ruin my career.

The most important word for me this year is balance. I will balance Magic, relationships, happiness, and every other aspect of my life that is important. I feel good and am ready to take another stab at playing Magic on the top of my game. I know I am better than I was this last year, and I am ready to show myself this time.