Sometimes I wonder: Why do I do this? I book another flight to a random city. I book another 2.5 star hotel. I will sleep 5 hours max in an uncomfortable bed. Then I will sit in a convention center for 12 hours playing games. I won't eat well. My back will hurt. My eyes will ache. My brain will be steeped in anxiety. It is poison for my body. It is nourishment for my soul.
I am there at the table, in an uncomfortable chair and a crowded room. My opponent casts Dauntless Bodyguard and the games begin. I play Spirebluff Canal "Consider or Opt?" I ask myself. I contemplate the range of cards I would bin. I analyze the odds I run out of time to cast my cantrips before I Cruise. For a moment, I see god. Flow is where high challenge meets high skill. I cast Consider and enter the matrix.
I exit the matrix hours later. I am 7-2. Hundreds of small decisions add up to that single result. 7 wins, 2 loses. Each time I seek only the truth. What are the true odds I find a removal spell if I go for it? Should I wait on my cantrip to maximize my odds of bringing back Phoenix next turn? Do I have time for the bathroom between rounds? I will never know if I am right about any of these. They all fade away. Only the 7 matters. Only the 2 will haunt me. One virtue: Victory. One sin: Defeat. I am exhausted, but satisfied. Food beckons.
I am back at my sketchy hotel now. Greg and I swap war stories and anecdotes as I drift off to sleep. I toss and turn. Nobody has ever slept well at a Magic tournament, but I must rest, there are more games to play.
I am back at my house. I create another testing discord. I invite the usual suspects. We dive together into DSK limited. Which rares should you take over Under the Skin? Is Bookworm actually better than Dragonfire p1p1? How good is UR in sealed? What is the key to drafting BR Sacrifice? The pursuit of truth never ends. This tournament means nothing and everything to me. I don’t need the invite, I don’t need the money. Yet I must know. I must understand. I must win.
Occasionally I reflect on my empty house. It isn't filled with my friends. Or in a way it is, they are all here behind my computer screen. Having those you are close to scattered across the world is a blessing and a curse. I ask them "Would you play Clockwork Percussionist here?" I mean "Would you like to connect with me in the only way I know how?" I ask "how can we improve our limited meeting process?" I mean "Let's build an amazing virtual space together."
When I board the plane to Las Vegas it doesn't feel like leaving home, it feels like going to the only place I have ever belonged. Not the crowded casinos that smell of cigarette smoke. But to the halls where thousands of like minded players gather. All convention centers are the same place containing the same people. More than any other group I have ever known, they are my people. We don't come for money: there is no money in Magic, never has been, never will be. We don't come for fame: any legitimacy Magic had died in the first months of the COVID pandemic. We come for love. We come for the truth. We come because it’s home.
I open a sealed pool. I look through my cards. Only a few playable rares, but plenty of strong uncommons. I can work with that. Is URw stronger than UWr? I begin laying out the builds, comparing raw power, mana curves and consistency. The flow state returns, once more into the breach.
Sometimes I wonder: Why do I do this? I begin looking at flights to Atlanta. Standard with Foundations is a blank canvas and there's work to be done. I miss my home, I miss my people. But I will be with them soon. I smile as I remember why.