What Do You Mean I Get to Play Land?
by Michael R. Dewey
A quick note to those of you who haven’t read any of my columns... I have a tendency to look at the lighter side of things when I write about them. As a great philosopher once said, “The world needs laughter.” Actually, the world needs more Seven of Nines, but I get what this great philosopher meant. So, laugh, and be merry. For tomorrow... uh, is Wednesday. Enjoy.
So, I’m at the latest PTQ in where ever it’s being held (like I pay attention). Things are going well. “Well” in the most relative sense of the term, of course, as I’m 0-3 (but I almost won a game last round!). Do I stick around and play another round? Sure, I don’t think I can get a negative DCI rating by losing one more match.
So, the pairings go up on the wall and I saunter over to get a glimpse of the person who will undoubtedly draw 5 lands the entire round and STILL beat me 2-0. I look up to see what the name of this fiend who will beat me down like a small Pokémon toy. Jasmine. Jasmine, what kind of guy has a name like that?! Hey, with a name like that maybe I can beat him.
With glee over a possible victory, I head over to my table and await Jasmine. Now, there’s some young woman sitting where Jasmine is supposed to be. I can only assume that Jasmine has a really hot girlfriend. So, I wander over to my chair and have a seat. Then she looks directly at me and says, “Ready to play?” I was going to ask her if she was playing this round for her boyfriend, but then my mind started to kick into high gear.
After going over these facts for about 30 seconds (and probably having the most ridiculous look of sheer befuddlement on my face of “Oh, yeah, duh, I knew that..”) I said, “Uhhgggggkk.... Yeah, sure let’s play.”
- Jasmine isn’t really a guy’s name.
- You’re not really allowed to play for other people in a tournament.
- Jasmine really isn’t a guy’s name.
Now, by no means am I against women playing Magic. I mean the only thing women really shouldn’t be able to do is have facial hair. I’m a 90s type of guy. It’s just that, for the most part, women don’t tend to play Magic. I really don’t know why. I mean who wouldn’t want to hang out with aging, fat, smelly, balding men?
Nevertheless, here she was. So we started playing game one. To be honest, I couldn’t take my eyes off her Juju Bubbles (and we were playing Urza Block Constructed, if you know what I mean). I was tempted to call a judge over because she was obviously trying to distract me, but I just kept staring. Around turn 4 she asked me if I played much, since I still didn’t have any land on the table. Actually, I play a lot, but I had simply forgotten to play lands during the previous three turns. Really, anyone can make that mistake. Instead of staring, I decided to actually look at my hand. Oddly, 3 of the 11 cards (I guess I forgot about the discard phase too, it can happen to anyone, I swear) were from
my sideboard. Funny, I shouldn’t be playing with my sideboard, I thought to myself. I turned to my side to look for my sideboard. It wasn’t there. Nor was it on the other side, in my pocket or scattered on the floor. Then I noticed how much bigger my deck looked. Roughly one sideboard bigger. Well, there goes game one.
Game two wasn’t much better as she complained it was too hot in there and took off her sweater. Alas, I was now 0-4 (and still hadn’t won a game). Now, again, I’m a 90s type of guy, I think women should play Magic. But something must be done. I don’t know what of course, as it’s not my job to think much, being a guy.
Next column? “How to win using only 60 Memory Lapses.”
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