From Right Field: What’s Next?

It’s third-and-twenty-three in the bottom of the ninth, and I’ve got no fouls to give. I’m working with three guys that have yellow cards, and the other team has a two-foot putt. My back’s against the wall. My feet are in stirrups. The doctor just said to drop ‘em, turn, and cough, and the nurse told me to bend over. In other words, I’m right where I want to be.

I watched him flail his way through the traditional route of newbie mistakes; burning on excess mana because he didn’t know about the Alt-U “Undo” trick, zipping past phases he should have had stopped, and hitting the wrong creatures. It was a shame to watch.