We all feel it.
It drives our decisions.
Makes us feel worthwhile.
We take it in the things we love doing.
We work so hard because of it.
We doubt ourselves when it becomes wounded.
Questioning it makes us defensive.
A swelling of it can help us move mountains.
It is pride, and I feel like Magic players as a whole are misevaluating what role it plays in their game. On all levels, it’s the fuel for the “fire”
everyone likes to talk about so much. When we do well at events or build a deck that takes a format by storm, our pride dictates to us that we matter; that
we are somehow worth more as a person then we were before.
When I came back from the Pro Tour, I got a lot of congratulations and pats on the back, and I’d be lying if I said that I was happy to get the praise. I
wasn’t. I was humbled and barely responsive when it was brought up, but that’s the way I want it. Seeing the caliber of player that I saw makes it almost
impossible to be proud of anything I accomplished. The reward wasn’t my performance, because it was vastly mediocre, but instead it was important to keep
my pride in check.
Getting Caught Up
A younger and far more inexperienced Mark used to be very braggadocios about his accomplishments as a Magic player. They fed into a sense of entitlement
that because he had done well in some local tournaments that he was somehow better than other people. Every loss felt like he had been robbed of a victory
he should have had. He pissed and moaned and whined and cried and regaled his friends with tales of how unlucky he was and how terrible his opponent
played, never stopping to think that maybe he was playing poorly or didn’t think through a certain line that may have been better.
No. Because he had done well at a few local events, his pride swelled and his indignation grew and it was all very disgusting.
Pride came before the fall.
Eventually, Mark became friends with much better players than himself and he couldn’t hang. It didn’t make sense, though. He had done well at a few local
events! Why couldn’t he keep up with them? Loss after loss mounted and he learned nothing. He was unlucky. He wasn’t taking testing seriously. Pretty much
any excuse under the sun was used, and with each passing day, he continued to fail.
He was so caught up in his own “achievements” that he couldn’t get any better.
Eventually, Mark started to wake up from his coma, and like Sleeping Beauty, was greeted by the sight of welcomed eyes, his eventual acceptance that he
would never be good at Magic unless he shut his mouth and opened his ears, which meant that he could learn more about the game. No longer stunted by his
own ignorance, he started realizing everything he thought he knew about Magic was wrong. He was finally able to grow as a player and take in each new
lesson and practice on his road to being a better player. That road goes on forever, but it is lovely, dark, and deep.
And here we are.
You Are Not Letting Anyone Down, Least of All Yourself
My pride as a Magic writer, player, friend, mentor, etc…has always come from the fact that I prided myself on how people viewed me. When people place a
vested interest in your success, the pressures to do well begin to mount.
I have friends who suffer through a daily tempest of emotions because they believe in their hearts that they are letting down the very people who count on
them because they don’t put up the results that are “expected” of them.
Let me break this to you, dear reader…
No one has any right to expect anything from you, least of all someone who would make you feel inferior for not living up to their expectations.
When you step foot into a Magic tournament, you prepare to play your best, battle with the deck you believe gives you the best chance to win, and try to
have as much fun as possible all while being competitive.
We take pride in this game. We take the utmost of pride in how well we perform. Start a tournament 0-2? Self-doubt creeps in. Our pride takes a hit. Maybe
you’re not as good as you thought you were? What are the other players going to think? Do I suck? Are they going to ridicule me? Think less of me? Your
pride begins to sink and suffer. You’ve let them all down…
But you haven’t. You haven’t let anyone down. Not even yourself.
Bad performances are a part of Magic. For every one tournament you might take down or do a good job at, there may be ten where you fail to make day two or
post a winning record.
Do not let your pride dictate your results to you. This will cause you to put unnecessary pressures on yourself and make any less-than-perfect performance
turn into a catalyst for further failures. Losing is not a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The Art of Humility
“Stay humble. Stay hungry.”
The moment that you believe you are too big to fail is the moment that you suffer a great personal defeat.
Right now, all I want to do is get back on the Pro Tour. This weekend I participated in FNM and Game Day because Magic is all I can think about, and I
played each match like it was the finals of PTQ or a Grand Prix top 8. I’m hungry for this success because it was the most incredible experience I’ve ever
had when it comes to this game.
There were players I would hear talking–Pro Tour regulars–talking to each other like it was no big deal. They were always qualified, and it almost
sounded like they took it for granted. “Yeah, I’ve scrubbed out of the last few. No big deal.” That blew my mind. Each loss was agony. Each win was
ecstasy. How could they care so little?
When my friend Chase pointed out that I seemed incredibly joyless when someone asked me about Brussels, I told him how scared I was to be excited about it.
I feel like the moment I let my pride take over is the moment that I stop worrying about my play, my advancement, or my desire to continue improving.
Humility plays a great role in keeping your pride and ego in check. It’s a way of constantly telling you to be thankful for what you have, how you obtained
it, and why you can’t let your pride take control of your thought process. It keeps me whole and in check. It doesn’t let me escape from my limitations
into a world structured around my own satisfactions.
I want to fail. I want to continue to be set back. I need it because my own tragic flaws seem to take over when I’m doing well, and I can’t have that.
Every loss needs to sting. Each depression needs to be great. I crave mountains to climb over, and I desire water to cough out of my lungs so that each
view is more tremendous and each breath more precious.
When Pride is a Good Thing
My father was a salesman for over twenty years. He never went to college, wasn’t a great student in high school, but that man could sell ketchup popsicles
to a woman in white gloves. He was an old-school soul, and people loved him for it. He never misled a customer, and he always followed up with them to make
sure they were happy with their purchases. His area of expertise was appliances–everything from microwaves to stoves to refrigerators.
We grew up poor–very poor–in a suburb called Penn Hills inside Pittsburgh. It wasn’t much, and we had so little. My father refused to let us grow up like
he did, so he honed his skills and became the best salesman he could. Eventually he made enough money to move us out of Penn Hills to a place called
Greensburg. The difference was immediate and we felt it. Everything was better: The air was cleaner, the people were friendlier…our family was happier.
After four years of success and putting my mother through college, it was time for him to live his dream: that was moving our family to Florida. He began
working for Sears and instantly became one of their best salespeople, making more money than our family could have ever dreamed ever. Things were good.
Life was great.
If you asked my father today what he takes the most pride in though, to this day he’d say his wife and two sons.
Magic gives us something to be proud of, whether it’s an awesome collection or a deck we seem to be unbeatable with. When we win it’s something we can take
pride in, but we must never lose sight of the most important things.
We are blessed enough to play this game.
We have made lasting friendships because of Magic.
We let Magic help shape the person we are.
The important things are not winning or losing, but instead taking pride in what we’ve gained from Magic and how much we will continue to gain from it if
we never let that pride blind us to the tremendous beauty of this game. Sometimes it gets in the way and keeps us from seeing the bigger things in this
world, and it doesn’t let us bask in how awesome an experience could be if we just set our pride on the shelf for a minute.
Your self worth isn’t derived from Magic, but it can enhance it.
Be prideful in this game that you play, but don’t let that pride blind you to it.
Oh Yeah. I Played a Deck.
Creatures (32)
- 4 Elvish Mystic
- 4 Polukranos, World Eater
- 4 Sylvan Caryatid
- 2 Boon Satyr
- 4 Courser of Kruphix
- 4 Rattleclaw Mystic
- 4 Whisperwood Elemental
- 4 Dragonlord Atarka
- 2 Surrak, the Hunt Caller
Lands (24)
Spells (4)
I cut the Voyaging Satyr for a Reclamation Sage and switched the number of Nissa, Worldwaker and Xenagos, the Reveler.
It was consistently powerful, pretty much played eight Dragonlord Atarka, and See the Unwritten into Atarka and Surrak, the Hunt Caller was a recipe for
good times.
Going forward, I love this deck’s spot in the metagame, because if Esper Dragons continues to be a good deck, sporting this many planeswalkers in the
sideboard could be very good. If you’re looking for a great time playing Magic, this deck can lead you to that.
It Was Pride That Changed Angels Into Devils
Perhaps I’m too philosophical today. Who knows?
The last few weeks required a massive decompression and resetting.
It is my sincerest hope that I can keep pushing forward and let nothing get in the way of me becoming a better player. This means getting that promotion at
work that I’m breaking my back for, being a better husband to an already understanding wife, working out harder to get myself in better shape, and being a
better writer so that you all learn something, anything, from me.
I can’t let my pride in what I do trip me up on my journey, and I have miles to go before I sleep.