Mark

The night is falling apart before my eyes—and it’s only pack 2.

I look forward to this draft all week long. I read strategy articles while I’m stuck at the security desk in the middle of the night, learning tempo and pick orders from the best players in the world. I daydream about past victories while I make my hourly sweep of the lot. Friday night is my time, and no one else can have it.

My hands tremble a bit as I pick up the stack of cards on my right. They do that sometimes when I’m nervous. I hold my breath, hoping for a Cloudfin Raptor or a Drakewing Krasis or even a Sage’s Row Denizen. No such luck. I flip through the seven cards a half-dozen times, looking for anything that would make my deck better, but everything in the pack is chaff. Everything except for a foil copy of One Thousand Lashes.

The longer I stare at the card, the more it taunts me. How has no one picked this yet? Surely one of the seven people to my right is in Orzhov, aren’t they? Could I have misread the signals that badly? Is everyone else that much of a moron? And if they are and I lose to them, what does that say about me? I put the pack down and pick up the cards I had already drafted: a motley assortment of Gutter Skulks and Gridlocks. I had started in Orzhov, moved into Boros with a third pick Skyknight Legionnaire, and finally settled in Simic when a Crocanura tabled. At this point it’s Simic or bust, but the best card in the pack for that guild is the unplayable Merfolk of the Depths. I grimace and slam the One Thousand Lashes. If I can’t play it, no one can.

As I wait for the next pack to be passed, my mind races ahead to an embarrassing round 1 loss—probably to a far worse player than I—and on to another sleepless night of Deep Space Nine reruns. I work six nights a week, and trying to reverse my sleep schedule for day seven is a fool’s errand. Outside of Friday Night Magic and the cashiers at Subway and Starbucks, I think I’ve had three total conversations in the past month.   

Flip flip flip. I shuffle through my playables, forming them into a tight stack and revealing them again, looking for ways to salvage the evening. Nothing obvious reveals itself. I could splash a second or third color, but my curve is too low for that plan to be attractive. I manage to get a second Hands of Binding to table, but otherwise my deck is thirteen cards short heading into pack three.

I can’t stand people who open a pack and move right to the rare. To me, that defeats the artistry of the booster. It’s like skipping to the end of a film or a date. You just don’t do it. The two players down at the end of the table don’t subscribe to this philosophy, though. They’ve been talking to each other all night, snorting and scoffing every time they get passed a card in their colors. This sort of thing bothers me on a good day, but tonight it has nearly sent me over the edge several times. There’s nothing worse than drafting a trainwreck while someone else in your pod is having the night of their life at your expense.

My luck doesn’t change in the third booster. One of the players at the end opens a Domri Rade and makes sure everyone at the table knows about it, while my rare spot contains yet another copy of Unexpected Results. At least it’s on color.

As I wait for the pack to be passed, I try to avoid looking toward my neighbor on the left. I can’t help it, though—he’s got his hands out near the middle of the table, and he makes his pick in plain sight. My heart sinks into my stomach as I spy a Simic Charm hit his pile. I’m being cut out of the worst guild in the set.

My deck builds itself. It has three copies of Clinging Anemones and a black splash for two Shadow Slices, but there’s not much else I can do. I add land and start shuffling. It’ll be at least twenty minutes until round 1, at which point I will either be swept out of the event by a competent player or manage to steal a match from a newbie and prolong my suffering. I honestly don’t know which outcome I want more.

As a neurotic depressive, I can’t help but wonder if my poor draft tonight is a reflection of my true nature. I read all the articles and watch all the videos, yet here I am shuffling up a pile of last picks. All around me, high school kids who never even think about competitive Magic outside of this room are playing with cards I would kill to have. What if I’m not as good as I think I am? At anything?

A few minutes into my self-loathing, I am interrupted by a fat man with a backpack. “‘Got any Sphinx’s Revelations?” he asks me hopefully.

I know this dude. His name is Justin, and he goes to a junior college up in the valley where he’s been sparely attending classes for five or six years. He’s a simple sort of guy—not a great player, but always nice to me. “Sure,” I tell him. “Want to trade?”

Justin has two binders. One is filled with Standard cards, and it has the usual assortment of Innistrad block and Return to Ravnica cards that have fallen out of favor. I briefly consider trying to make a deal for a bunch of Lotleth Trolls and Drogskol Reavers before remembering that these underappreciated rares would likely just rot in my own binder through rotation. Why give up a Sphinx’s Revelation for that?

Justin’s other binder is more interesting. It’s clear that he took a long break from the game because there’s nothing in his Standard binder older than Innistrad and nothing in here newer than Eventide. It goes back as far as Revised, though, so it’s clear he’s been into Magic for a very long time.

I’ve traded with Justin before, but I’ve never seen this binder. “What’s with all these old cards?” I ask him.

“Pretty cool, right? This was my collection in high school. I was visiting my parents for Thanksgiving when I* found it in my closet. Back then, I just played for fun with my friends so I didn’t even know which cards were good. Here, look.”

Justin flips to the back of his binder and reveals a page of green creature cards. In between a Jade Leech and a Krosan Cloudscraper sits a single near mint copy of Tarmogoyf. I can’t believe he found this in his childhood bedroom. Mine had been dismantled many years earlier before my parents sold the house and moved into separate condos.

“Cool, huh?” he continues. “Can you believe I only opened one pack of Future Sight? And that I didn’t even play it in a deck? I found it in a pile of commons.”

“Yep,” I say, my mind flashing back to the foil copy of One Thousand Lashes sitting in my sideboard and the Domri Rade nestled in the deck of the obnoxious idiot who opened it. So many missed opportunities. So much luck bounced around the room tonight, landing on everyone but me. “Too bad they’re reprinting it.”

“They are? Really?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, my hands starting to shake again. “They’re coming out with this set called Modern Masters. It’s going to flood the market with a ton of valuable cards so that more people can play Modern. They’ve only spoiled two cards so far, but one of them is Goyf.”

“I guess I should trade mine soon, huh?”

He laughs nervously, and I know I’ve got him.

I don’t like to use the term “trade shark,” but there are certainly times when I fit the definition. I try to be fair most of the time and I never beat up on kids, but what’s the harm in making a lopsided deal once in a while? A trade is fair as long as both sides are happy, right? I’m not going trade with Justin unless I know he’s happy, but don’t I deserve happiness just as much?

I pull out my phone and look up Sphinx’s Revelation on StarCityGames.com. It’s $25 and out of stock. I do a mental fist pump, knowing that I can use this to my advantage. “Sphinx’s Revelation is out of stock at $25,” I tell him. “They’ll probably relist it at $30 or more considering it’s in every single deck right now. I bet I’m the only person in the room with a couple of copies to trade, honestly. I’ve been asked about it all night.”

Justin nods. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten around to everyone yet, but you’re the first person who’s had them so far. You think $30 each would be fair?”

“I’ll tell you what I can do, Justin. Obviously, two copies of Sphinx’s Revelation are worth less than a Tarmogoyf, but with the card being reprinted it’s certainly going to come down in price. Possibly a lot. I need one for Modern, and I don’t really care about the price. How about you take the two Revelations and pull some more stuff out of my binder until you’ve reached a trade that you think is fair?”

“Wait, but isn’t Tarmogoyf like 150 bucks or something?”

“Not even close,” I chuckle. “Some point might ask that, but I see them going for less than 100 bucks all the time. Plus, it’s going to drop in price, remember?”

The hook is in his mouth, but he hasn’t bit down yet. He spends a few moments looking at his Tarmogoyf and then hands the binder back to me. “Isn’t there anything else you want?”

I pretend to look at the rest of his book, but instead I’m waiting for him to break. I have the cards he needs, and we both know it. I’m the beatdown. He’s the control player with an empty board and a handful of basic land.

“Not really,” I say and pass the binder back. “I might keep those Revelations for myself, honestly. I was thinking of building that deck and taking it to a PTQ next weekend.”

“Wait, uh, let me see your binder, okay? Maybe we can make this work.”

At this point, the tournament is about five minutes away from starting. I let him pull a set of Glacial Fortresses but balk at including a Geist of Saint Traft in the deal. He also ends up with a foil Augur of Bolas and a Magistrate’s Scepter for his Commander deck before the shout of “Round 1 pairings are up!” is heard across the room.

“We have a deal?” I ask him, my hands on my cards. I shoot him my best thousand-yard stare, letting him know that I’m perfectly content taking my cards back and going home.

“Sure. Yeah. Okay,” he says. “I was never going to use that Goyf anyhow.”

I pluck my brand new Tarmogoyf out of his binder and exhale for the first time in what seems like half an hour. I might not win a game tonight, but I can walk out of the store a winner. That’s what I am.

Brian

My opening hand is awesome. Forest, Forest, Mountain, Forced Adaptation, Spire Tracer, Pit Fight, Domri Rade. Mise well, right? I drop the Tracer on turn 1 and slap Adaptation on it turn 2. Holy crap do I love Magic.

My opponent slumps back in his chair. I don’t know him, but I can’t help but remember him from the draft. He kept staring over at me, trying to burn a hole in my skull like his eyes shot laser beams. Excuse me for having a good time playing my favorite game, you know? I don’t care so much about winning most of the time, but I’d sure like to beat him tonight.

“Of course you have that combo,” he grumbles. “Any deck with an actual removal spell is going to two for one you all night long. Of course, I’m in Simic, so this freaking thing is going to beat me all by itself. Gotta love Gatecrash.”

“That’s the game sometimes,” I tell him, beating in for two. I play a Mountain, drop Domri Rade, and plus one him. I flip the top card of my deck and reveal a Ghor-Clan Rampager. “Sweet card, but not as good without the element of surprise,” I joke.

“Game 2,” he says, scooping up his cards and shuffling them together as fast and as loud as he can.

His fliers get me in the second game, but the third is another cakewalk in my favor. He never draws a blue land, and I curve out with Madcap Skills on Armored Transport. After scooping again, he ruffles through his deck and pulls out two copies of Totally Lost, claiming that he could have won both games easily if he had drawn them. “And an Island,” I point out. “You needed an Island too.”

“Want to trade?” He asks me, his expression reminiscent of Snape after a long day of putting up with Harry’s shenanigans. I don’t like trading much, but I am looking for a Jace, Memory Adept and a Gideon Jura. I built this sweet Commander deck where you just drop a bunch of planeswalkers and then destroy all the other permanents, leaving you and your buddies to take over the board. These are the last two I need to finish the deck. He tells me he has them and asks to see my binder.

“Oh, I don’t really have a binder,” I tell him, rifling through my backpack. “All of my cards either end up in decks or in piles at home. You can look through the stuff I drafted last week if you want. I think there are a couple of rares.”

“I’d rather look through your decks if that’s okay.”

“Uh, sure, but I generally don’t trade out of them.”

“That’s fine. I won’t ask for anything you wouldn’t be okay giving up.”

He riffles through my decks at lightning speed, grunting and grimacing at my card choices. “What format are these decks for?” He asks.

“I guess they’re Legacy decks. I mean, I don’t actually play in Legacy tournaments, but most of them wouldn’t be legal in anything else.”

After a few minutes, he gets to one of my favorite decks: a five-color Sunburst thing I’ve had together since high school. It’s got all five Bringers and a couple copies of Grozoth to fetch them. “What are these doing in here?” he asks me, revealing my two copies of Underground Sea. “Don’t you know how much they’re worth?”

“I have two of each dual in there. I got them when I was a kid, and they were ten bucks each.”

“Why don’t you trade them and put in shocklands? They’re way cheaper.”

“Yeah, but I already have these.”

“What about this?” He asks me. “What if I give you a full set of shocklands—one of each—just for these two lands? I’ll even throw in the two planeswalkers you want.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I tell him, starting to get angry. “Those Underground Seas are worth twice that.”

“Well yeah, they’re worth something today, but what about when people stop playing Legacy? Modern Masters is coming, remember. Modern is the future. Plus, we both know the shocklands are going to double in price this fall when everyone is going to want them for Standard but we’ll all be drafting the new set. Actually, maybe I shouldn’t even offer that trade. I’ll just wait until fall, sell the lands, and buy a full set of Underground Seas.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds reasonable.”

“So you want to make the trade?”

“No, not really. I’ve had those duals for years.”

“They’re just cards. You can always buy new copies of them whenever you want.”

I sigh and remember why I don’t like trading. Back in fifth grade, when I first started playing Magic, I had a teacher named Mrs. Levin. She taught a class called Language Arts, which was easily my worst subject. We had to read all of these old books—Where the Red Fern Grows, A Separate Peace, Of Mice and Men—about people who lived 100 years ago. I never really understood what was going on in them, but I still had to turn in those three-paragraph essays about theme and structure just like everyone else.

Whenever Mrs. Levin talked to me about one of my essays after class, her tone of voice was just like the one being used towards me now. “Your opinion doesn’t matter,” she always seemed to be telling me. “You think you’re smart, but you’re not. You think you understand, but you don’t. Just shut up and do what I tell you to.” I guess that’s what she meant about subtext.

At this point, my trading partner has moved on. He’s halfway through another deck—my Sliver deck—checking my Sliver Queens for nicks and dings. “Those aren’t for trade,” I tell him.

“Everything’s for trade if the price is right.”

“Not my Sliver Queens.”

“What if I offered you my whole binder for them?”

“You wouldn’t. That would be stupid.”

“Right, but you see what I’m saying. Everything is for trade.”

God, I wish I hadn’t given him my box of decks. He still has four decks to look through. How am I going to get out of this? He’ll probably freak at me if I just ask for my cards back. I’m already going to feel guilty and stupid for the rest of the night.

“Hey, uh, I kind of have to go to the bathroom.” I tell him. “Can we finish this later?”

“Just go. I’ll watch your stuff for you.”

Crap. “Uh, thanks, but I’m gonna take it with me. It’s my whole collection, you know? Got to keep an eye on it.”

He hunches down and flips through my cards even faster. “Okay, well, what if we just do my Gideon Jura for your Linvala. Both are white mythics from Rise of the Eldrazi. It’s a win/win.”

“Sure. Fine,” I say. Last I checked, Linvala and Gideon were both $10-$12 cards. Linvala probably went up in price, which is why he’s after it, and Gideon might have come down, but it doesn’t sound like highway robbery. Plus, I need him out of my life.

“Great doing business with you,” he tells me, handing me a Gideon and shaking my hand. Before we can exchange pleasantries, he walks off down the hall, his backpack wagging behind him.

Justin

“I wish Flinthoof Boar was in this set,” I say, looking at Brian’s Domri Rade and then back at my empty board.

“I don’t,” he quips back.

I smirk and play my Disciple of the Old Ways. I wish she had haste like Flinthoof Boar does. Instead, Brian is going to play a blocker that will keep me from attacking his Domri next turn as well. He might even use his planeswalker’s fight ability and take out my creature that way. It’s kind of funny how we both ended up in Gruul this draft. I don’t even really like the guild all that much. I was in Orzhov before someone cut me out of it in pack 2.

“Hey, do you know how much Linvala is worth?” he asks me.

“I don’t even know what Linvala is,” I reply. “I took a break for a couple of years. She must have been in one of the sets I missed.”

“30 dollars,” he tells me. “I looked it up after finishing a trade, and I couldn’t believe it.”

“Rough. Did you get the card or give it up?”

“Traded it away,” he mumbles.

“Rough.”

Domri Rade makes quick work of me in game 1, and the second contest doesn’t go much better. He sticks a couple of 4/4s on turns 4 and 5 that outgun my Ivy Lane Denizen and Skinbrand Goblin. The round is only ten minutes old when I shake his hand and sign the match slip.

“You want to trade?” I ask him. “I still need three Geist of Saint Trafts for my Standard deck.”

He gives me a look of despair and shakes his head. “I don’t think I can handle trading again tonight. The last one was pretty painful.”

“Sounds like it.” I get up and collect my stuff together, ready to grab a Coke from the machine before seeing if anyone else in the room has my Geists.

“Wait,” Brian says. “I do have a Geist I can trade you. It’s from my deck that had the Linvala in it. I don’t think I’m going to feel like playing it for a while. So if you want it, go nuts.”

Excited, I sit back down and hand him my binders. “Wow, nice Windswept Heath,” he tells me, finding my page of Onslaught rares near the front.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I guess I do have one of those. I generally don’t like to put cards in decks unless I have at least two of them. I like the consistency, you know?”

“Well, what do you value it at?”

“I don’t know. I don’t play Legacy.”

“Yeah, I don’t really play Legacy either.”

“Do you want me to look it up?” He asks me.

“Sure.”

I drum my fingers on the table while he pulls out a smartphone and starts typing away at it. After a few minutes—the store is in the hills and the LTE is always spotty—he finally manages to find a price. “40 bucks?” he tells me. “That can’t be right.”

“Legacy, man,” I say. “I don’t really get it.”

“Well, is there anything else you need?”

“Not really. Three Geist of Saint Trafts—that’s my list.”

“Is one of them worth a Heath to you?”

“Sure,” I say and make the trade without hesitation. “All I want to do is finish my deck.”

I don’t win the draft—Brian does—but I do end up playing two more great matches of Magic. I also end up trading for the two other Geists I need, completing my Standard deck by the end of the night. When I finally walk out of the store at midnight, I am greeted by the brisk night air and the knowledge that I’ve had one of my best Friday nights in ages.

This Week’s Trends

– Innistrad boxes have started to make a move. StarCityGames.com raised their price, and many in the speculation community have decided to begin picking these up between $100 and $120 each. If you read my article on long-term speculation, you’ll know that I am a huge fan of picking these up and socking them away for a couple of years. This is officially your last chance.

– Liliana of the Veil is the hottest card in Standard right now. She sees a lot of Modern play as well. The community seems split on whether or not she’ll maintain her value over the next few months, but I tend to believe she will drop far and fast this summer. Keep her in your collection at your own risk.

– Angel of Serenity seems to have reached another plateau. I think it will go higher again, but not until the fall. Feel free to either keep yours or sell now and pick them up again this summer.

– Silent Arbiter has started a quiet march up toward being a $5+ card. Bet you can still find these in $1-$2 boxes all day long.

– Several casual cards are making a move this week as well. Vorinclex, Sheoldred, Avacyn, and Angel of Hope are all risers.

– This week’s fallers? Boros Reckoner and Hellrider.

– Dragon’s Maze previews are finally here, and Modern Masters isn’t too far behind. Magic finance is about to get really interesting again really quickly.

Until next time –

– Chas Andres