Yesterday’s Daily was written in a drunken haze about two months ago, and like I said at the end of the column, I had bigger plans. I wanted that piece, along with an added section, to be the inaugural edition of a weekly feature called “Drunken Excesses/The Sobering Realities”, wherein I would write half of the column, um, “inebriated,” and then follow up with my more lucid reflections on what I had written. I failed to follow through, though – a shortcoming of mine. Craig rejected the fetal “Drunken Excess” because it was too short. Fair enough. I sure pulled a fast one on him yesterday; let me tell you.
Anyway, here, finally, are the sobering realities.
I’m a writing flake. I put this one off until 8pm Monday night because I thought I could take advantage of the multiple time zones separating me from an imaginary “final” deadline. If I’m wrong, and Craig gets this too late to do anything with it, I really am a bastard, and you have my apologies. [It was close… now I know how Ted felt when I submitted on the cusp of tomorrow. — Craig, just as guilty]
The thing is, my relationship with writing is awkward. Awkward like a bunch of Magic players in a conversation with someone they suspect is homosexual. I love writing; the idea of it, the power it can have, and the challenges it presents. But most of the time, I can’t stand having to actually write, so I end up writing about writing, and you end up having to read this sort of nonsense.
Sorry.
I understand this column needs to be about Magic at least a little. I’m not gonna cop out and make the easy transition to talking about how I spent all of last night drafting. I’m not sure if I hit rock bottom by the time I was in my third 999 queue, or later when I 3-0’d a RRG 8-4 at 11 this morning and decided I had one more solid run left in me, all the while hoping I’d lose in the first round so I could just pass out. But I’m positive I hit rock bottom at some point, and that I was so tired at the time that it was comfortable, like a linoleum floor after a particularly fun night.
Actually, I’d like to talk about the Big Picture some more and how Magic fits into it. I can’t tell you how many times I checked the forums last night to see what the response to yesterday’s Daily was, not because that column meant so much to me. I just happen to love attention. From relative strangers. Maybe as some sort of validation. Maybe. There was one post in particular I feel I should respond to.
For your reference:
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Posted by Frank Guevara
1) Upon observing me and my loser gaming buddies draft in my basement, my sister said I sucked at life. I won that draft, and I had a lot of fun doing it, but I couldn’t say that she was wrong. There I am sitting across a 400 pound fatty with an inferiority complex attacking for 12, and I thought that I would never be cool until I stopped playing.
2) I didn’t have anything to show for 4 hours other than a handful of cardboard and a smattering of pride.
3) This game doesn’t fit the Big Picture as you describe it, Moreno. The winnings do.”
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I’ve numbered the parts of this post so that it’s easier to follow along as I talk about them.
People talk about and judge each other constantly. Sometimes it’s positive, sometimes (see above) not so much. But there should always be limits to how relevant other people’s opinions are to your own sense of self. Sure, different points of view can be helpful for self-evaluation. As Magic players, and as people, one of the toughest challenges is recognizing your own flaws, and to that end, I fully recommend discussing your thoughts and feelings and decision-making processes often, always being open to being wrong. Sure, it’s advantageous, to understand what your opponent or your boss or your lawyer thinks of you. Many a game of Magic has been lost by a player who underestimated their opponent, and won by an opponent who understood that and played accordingly. Ultimately though, opinions fall short and as people we must know who we are. We must trust ourselves. And so Mr. Guevara, I ask only that, despite your sister’s sentencing, you trust yourself enough to believe that what you’re doing with your life is worthwhile. I promise, as many similarities as there might be, Magic, unlike crack, is not inherently for losers. This game, and our lives, are simply what we make of them.
Which brings us to next point. If you aren’t playing Magic as some sort of twisted exercise in self-loathing, then appreciate the time you spend with it and understand that no matter what context you play in, whether you’re a professional mountain climber or an amateur spelunker, Magic simply never leaves you empty-handed. It’s like life that way.
Sure, you might not make the big bucks, but the final point I’d like to make is that winning is never the Big Picture. Humor me, please. Find a picture of someone online, of Kai Budde or Pierre Canali, someone who’s won a Pro Tour. Extend your index finger. And point at them. Now find someone in front of a your computer who has never won anything. And point. Now look at your finger, the tip of it. It’s small, isn’t it? Winning and losing are so small picture, it’s not even funny. The Big Picture things, man, they’re big. Impossible to put your finger on. They take a lifetime of exploration. Not an afternoon of lucky die rolls. Or even a few months of hard work.
Sh**. I have to email this to Craig immediately. Sorry for cutting it short.