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SUCCESS IN THE CITY

or, A Little Etiquette Goes a Long Way
by Tony Costa

                ‘Twas the fall of ’96, Mirage had been out for only a month or so and instead of spending every waking moment playing Magic and learning the new set as I usually did I was learning to cope with life in a new state and city:  Houston, Texas.  I cut my teeth on the game in extreme Northern California (read:  north of San Francisco) and did well there in tourneys, almost always winding up in the prizes (upon reflection, it was probably because I was one of the few who owned the power nine…).  My favorite pastime, though, was multi-player magic and upon getting into my new apartment and starting graduate school I set out to find a local Magic shop where I could make some friends, trade, etc.  I determined the nearest shop was a place on Shepard/Greenbriar downtown (I forgot the name;  it no longer exists), and after a few visits I found they were holding a “Type II” tournament, a format I was unfamiliar with but decided to try out.  One thing that struck me early – and foreshadowed my upcoming gaming experience – was the lack of communication among fellow players who were in the shop.  Not only were people not very friendly, but some would look right through me if I tried to start a conversation or, worse, be downright rude.  This was not a good omen.  (Note:  most Texans were great overall!)  Another thing that struck me after looking over the cards for sale in the glass cases and the dollar boxes was how much more certain cards were selling for compared to California (that crappy rare Necropotence was selling for $8.00!).  All the good multi-player cards were dirt-cheap! (Fiery Justice was in the dollar box!).    I stocked up, certain that they would make great trade bait.  In retrospect, I should have invested in toilet paper.

                On to the tournament.  I decided to use an orcish lumberjack/tinder wall/Orgg deck that could pop out 2^nd turn Orggs with regularity.  I got there an hour early, hoping to make a few trades and meet some people.  When I walked into the back room there were about 20 people, most of whom were going over their decks or talking in small groups.  I sat down and got out my trade binder (usually a good way to break the ice) and looked around to see if anyone seemed interested.  After 10 minutes noone had even made eye contact with me.  I decided to get up and introduce myself, figuring people were maybe a little shy or something.  The first guy I talked to didn’t even look at me, just said “I don’t want nuttin’”.  The second guy didn’t even say a word, just looked up and back down at his deck.  In fact, he hid the cards from my eyes!  The third guy I approached told me to sit down and wait for the tournament to start – and to quit spying on people’s decks!  I go, “huh?”  He looks at me with disgust in his eyes, tells me he’s the judge and that I better sit down or he’ll not allow me to play because I was “spying on the opposition”.   So, I sit down and go over my own deck, putting together a sideboard.  The judge comes up to me, sees what I’m doing and tells me what a jerk I am for putting together a board after what he told me.  WHAT?!  I never saw a single card!  I was just trying to make conversation!  Then some smart aleck said something like “tell it to the judge” and people started cracking up.  Then the judge warns me:  “Just one mistake and you’re out.  Got it?”  What the ef?  I could tell this was going to be quite a bit more competitive than back in NoCal.

                The tournament starts.  I draw an opponent who only grunts when I extend my hand in greeting.  I tell him my name.  Another grunt.  Still no eye contact.  I shuffle my deck, and see him watching my every move.  When I finish shuffling, he grabs my deck – and instead of cutting it, he shuffles it!  What the ef?  I had never seen that before – what gall!  I ask what he’s doing and he says:  “It’s in the rules”.  I didn’t know, but now I did.  Pissed, I cut his deck and he wins the roll to see who goes first.  As I draw my seven cards, he again watches my every move and I can see him mentally counting:  one, two, three…  He draws, plays swamp/dark ritual/dark ritual/two hymn-to-tourach ivory tower GO.  Gone are my lumberjack, tinderwall, Orgg and forest.  So much for speed.  I draw, play a mountain.  He goes, plays swamp/pump night GO.  He watches again to make sure I only draw one card.  He makes me stop, looks at my graveyard and calls the judge over.  “Judge, he messed up his graveyard.”  Judge, to me:  “What’d I tell you?  Don’t push me or you are out!”  Me:  “What?!”  “You are supposed to leave your graveyard alone!  Jeez, don’t you know the rules?”  Obviously not.  Now I am really flustered.  I didn’t remember even touching my graveyard! I play lightning bolt on his night.  He stares at me hard, puts it in the graveyard…and asks,  “Well, are you DONE?  If you are, SAY SOMETHING!”  Startled, I say yes, forgetting to play my other mountain.  I say so and he says, ‘Too damn late”.  Dejected, I slump back in my chair, pulling my hand into my lap and looking down at my remaining cards – and I hear:  “HEY!  Keep your %$$# hands ABOVE THE TABLE!  JUDGE!”  Now everyone in the room is staring over at me, muttering:  “Stupid newbie”,  “Idiot”, “…should be thrown out…”  The judge comes over, shaking his head, makes me stand up to see if I was hiding cards (of course I wasn’t) then says “I oughta just run you right outta here right now, but I’m a nice guy.  One more slip and you’re gone.  GOT IT?!”  Man, what a tough town…

                The game resumes.  He draws, plays lake of the dead after tapping the sac’d land for mana, sacs his other swamp, drops Necropotence and hymns me again, taking my mountain and an elf.  Then he fills his hand and says GO.  Suddenly Necropotence doesn’t seem like a crappy rare anymore.  I draw, play forest/elf and only have the mountain left.  A beta, just like all the other lands in my deck.  Played to death…”JUDGE!  He’s playing with marked cards!”  The judge comes over again, murder in his eyes, and looks at my deck.  Yup, every land is a beta, obviously well-used, and despite the appearance of several other toasted cards in my deck he declares that I am playing with marked cards and disqualifies me.  So ended my first (and almost last) Houston tournament…

                The moral(s) of this story?  Well, if you are serious about going to tournaments, KNOW THE RULES.  Memorize them, even the minor ones.  Back in NoCal we had such a low-pressure group that people always let you take things back, there was no judge, and people usually let you slide on the rules if it seemed you knew what you were talking about. Maybe a bit TOO laid-back, but it was a fun place to play. Noone ever got accused of cheating the whole time I played there.  Noone ever shuffled your deck, took card counts every turn or even cared about graveyard order.  I had not realized how different the environment was in Houston, which leads to moral number two:  KNOW THE AREA.  It might be wise to just watch a tourney or two in your area before you try to take part in one so you can see how the game is played there.  I was certainly unprepared for the ferocity of competition in Houston.  Third, please – BE NICE.  Especially to newbies.  I’m not saying to forgive people their mistakes in competition.  What I AM saying is, point out their errors in non-threatening tones.  Most people make honest mistakes, and most of that is unfamiliarity with the rules.  In tournaments this means learning lessons the hard way – but it can be done without acrimony in most cases.  When a game is over, offer to go over with them the mistakes they made if they ask.  Please, DON’T call the judge over for every little offense, as most mistakes can be remedied with simple com-mun-i-ca-tion (read:  NO YELLING!).  And, also, PLEASE say “hi” or shake your opponent’s hand!  To do less is to demean them personally.  Remember sportsmanship?  It’s a GAME for crying out loud!  I almost quit Magic after that tournament due to the embarrassment I went through, but I decided to stick with it and got a lot better – and managed to stay nice during my entire time in Houston.  Wary, yes, but nice.