An Empty Chair

Seated across from an empty chair, looking at a still full glass of iced tea and waiting for a blue cheese potato chip appetizer that would never arrive. In that moment it hit me, he was really gone.

We were supposed to have lunch today, Wednesday, February 20, 2019. His life ended on the 15th. Cut short by a heart attack and leaving behind a family, friends, and a community filled with grief.

I got the news in a hotel room in Memphis, while working a Magic Fest. Looking back almost 3 years to my first Grand Prix I remember running into him in the lobby of the convention center. We sat and talked a few minutes and he told me he was excited to see more women joining our community. At the time I didn’t understand some of the more toxic elements of our culture and I had no idea why he would say such a thing to me. What I did know is that I hadn’t even put on my brand new judge shirt for the first time yet, and this man was excited to welcome me. On a day where my nerves trembled as I struggled to keep up with the mountains of new things I was learning, he provided a sense of calm acceptance and a ready smile.

That was the first of a long list of event encounters where we shared a smile, a chat, or a meal. One night we went to Joe T. Garcia’s, a Mexican restaurant I had frequented in college. “Get the nachos,” he implored. At a place known for enchiladas and fajitas, I didn’t even know they had nachos. He wasn’t wrong - and I’ve ordered nachos every single time since that night.

He wrote me a review one time, for a stressful 65 player PPTQ where he was a player. He loved to write. He loved to make others better. And he was willing to invest his time in writing to make me better. Opening that review was a lovely surprise after a rough day. And now that review sits in my history as a lovely reminder of a lost friendship and the lasting impact he made on my career as a judge.

Two weeks ago he was on my deckchecks team for the Star City Open in Dallas. We enjoyed a fun day together checking decks, sorting lists, and sharing laughs. He was always a whiz at deckchecks, faster than me by far. I never understood how he could be so jovial while doing a task that tested my concentration and my patience. He seemed to know when a deck was problematic and had a knack for figuring out issues that arose. I’m so honored that I got to share the day with him on his last event working as a judge.

He often bought extra boxes of product that I brought home from events. We’d meet here, at Pluckers, to enjoy wings and make the exchange. While it started out as a way to meet up for a sale, it evolved into more of a fun meal to talk about the judge program, upcoming events, conferences, and more. Our topics often included our families, writing and editing, hopes and dreams for the future, sports, and anything else we could think of. We were never at a loss for words and the meals always ended too soon.

So here I am today, sitting alone at this table with a painful ache in my heart. His warm encouragement will be missing at future events and I’ll never get to read his latest writing project. I’ll have one less confidant to bounce conference ideas off of and I can’t ask if he’s attending. I’m sitting at one of our favorite tables, eating the wings we both adored. And while I know he’d be happy to hear that they are still delicious, they will never be the same without his company.

Jeff Zandi, you may not be here in person, but your spirit is with me today at this table. I hope to pass on your traditions of hospitality and encouragement and continue to build the community that you loved so much. Your influence is woven into the fabric of who I am as a judge and you will be with me every time I wear that mantle. I miss you, but I know that you will live on both in me and in the Magic community.

What Judges Do

Iron sharpens iron, So one man sharpens another.
-Proverbs 27:17 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

Last night I had a long chat with a good judge friend. I went to bed with my mind simmering and full of ideas. I awoke still ruminating on the things he said. Even now, I cannot clear my mind of his comments, or focus on another piece of writing. The ideas are too fresh, and too poignant. 

So after dinner, family time, and DDR, he got right down to business by asking about my recent L2P exam. We went to the computer and walked through each question whether I answered correctly or not. He explained my mistakes, corrected my misunderstandings, and showed me strategies for working things out. What he did not do was offer underserved praise or sugar-coat my mistakes. When we finished, I felt defeated yet stronger than I had been before. My weaknesses had been exposed, but I possessed the tools to correct them. 

We then left the computer and headed for the living room where he motioned me to sit on the couch while he pulled something from his bag. Around this time in the evening we often play Magic, so I was hoping for legacy decks. Instead he sat down and opened his small black judge notebook. "We still haven't talked about your review." Now clearly I was confused again because I thought a review was a dry document keyed into a clunky interface by a judge after an event.

His 'review' involved a lengthy conversation. He asked me about the weekend, walked me through several situations he observed, and took into account my self-observations. We talked about my roles each day, who I worked with, what I learned from each person, and how I could apply those techniques. He followed up on several things that he had noted asking how I had resolved situations later. He even sought my feedback on his performance. Interestingly, I think he was evaluating my ability to evaluate other judges. The level of depth surprised me in both his notes and his questions. He knew how to help me see my own strengths and weaknesses.

Our conversation then turned to my upcoming L2 exam. He asked about my preparations, my next events, and my testing plans. He didn't let me get away with muddled answers and he probed for details when I didn't readily admit them. For most of the conversation, he pressed hard for me to select a test date and make it happen. As we wrapped things up, he added that readiness is a mental state and not to let him push me into testing before I'm ready. By the way he said it, I suspect that he thinks I'm ready, but the readiness from within is the only thing that matters. That solidified a judge lesson: Trust Yourself.

I'm currently re-reading Ender's Game (a personal favorite!), and the line that came to mind is "There is no authority but excellence." In the judge program competence abounds and a great many judges run quality events, but true excellence born of an intolerance for anything less occurs only sporadically. I respect this particular judge not only for his excellence, but for the excellence he brings out in me. I strive to do a better job because he knows I can. I also know that no matter how I preform I'll be called upon to answer for it later, and I'd much rather have the conversation that follows doing well.

Like so many judge interactions, there is no judgment - just honest evaluation. As my mind drifts back over times with my judge friends, lots more stories come to mind:

• Getting daggered in Slack while preparing for my L1.
• Driving 10 hours to Albuquerque while Brian and Antonio loudly debated judge scenarios in the back seat.
• Jim showing me how to prepare sealed product for distribution on my first day on the floor.
• Countless hours on hangouts with Josh as he answers my never-ending questions.
• Staying up past midnight going through Judge Box scenarios with Adena.
• Phone calls with Carter to discuss the philosophies behind the rules.
• Sitting in the airport with Brian, Zac, Tasha, and a bunch of players sharing our best judge calls of the weekend while waiting on a delayed flight home from Columbus.

The only obvious conclusion here is that judges like helping each other get better. Unlike so many places in life where people compete to hold one another down and getting to the top is exclusive, the judge program is the opposite. Judges sharpen one another - it's what they do.

Magicversary

One year ago today was the beginning of my Magic journey.

Now technically I had played Magic before.  I had tried it out with some of my husband's buddies, and I had been to a grand total of 4 FNMs. All of those times involved me cluelessly piloting decks through a bunch of interactions of which I possessed no comprehension. It felt like "magic" because my opponents did all kinds of crazy things that I couldn't explain and that made no logical sense.

A year ago today, my husband and I attended Grand Prix Las Vegas.  I actually went to watch him play, and then decided to sign up because he had paid for Platinum Planeswalker Registration. This entitled him to use a VIP lounge.  I literally entered the tournament so that I could accompany him into this lounge.  By 'lounge' I actually mean a mostly curtained off area on the floor with a few tables and chairs.  The best surprise of the weekend is that this 'lounge' also contained a nice lady with a small oven who handed out freshly baked cookies all day. Additionally popcorn provided the salty complement to the sweet cookies. The cookies alone made the extra $70ish worth it!

Because I didn't want to embarrass myself too badly at this event, my husband helped me study beforehand.  We looked at spoilers and he explained to me the deck archtypes in the set.  Luckily, this sealed event didn't require me to bring (or own) a deck. It did however require me to know enough to build one in 45 minutes given a pool of cards.

Also, to add to the fun, my husband's team graciously gave me a T-shirt. I in no way earned this shirt, but I had at least met one of the guys before. It may be a silly thing, but wearing the team shirt made me feel important, and thus I felt more inclined to play better.

We signed up for a Sealed Trial, which would simulate the Grand Prix conditions. It required building a deck from a pool of cards. but no one told me that we had to open the packs and register a list. So while opening 6 packs of cards and marking them on a sheet of paper sounds simple enough, it proved to be enough to place me in a panic. I followed the instructions for opening, sorting, alphabetizing, and marking the cards on the list, but I did so at a snail's pace.  I focused on the wrong things because I had no idea which things mattered. When we were supposed to be finished, I had to raise my hand and wait for a judge to watch me as I did the last cards. (Waiting for the judge made me take even longer, and that guy was intimidating!).  By the time I tried to start building a deck, I was more likely to have a coronary condition than to clearly evaluate a card pool.  I at least got colors I knew how to play (Bant) and managed to put together a decent deck. When I won the first match, I was elated! I had already exceeded my wildest expectations.  I lost round 2. I won 3 and 4, and drew in round 5 for a record of 3-1-1. That led to significant prize tix and me leaving with a sense of accomplishment.

As we returned to our hotel that afternoon, my feelings about the game had changed. It went from something foreign and difficult to something I could do. That tiny taste of success left me with a longing that could not be easily satisfied.  That evening we attended a broadway show, but my mind wandered to the cards and I contemplated ways to optimize my deck.  Over dinner, we talked about playing in more events the following day and planned how to spend our days at the GP.  In bed that night, I drifted off to sleep with artifacts and Tarmagoyfs dancing in my head.

I wish I could tell you that the rest of the weekend I played well . . .  but beginner's luck ran out rather quickly. I only amassed a total of 3 more wins over the next 3 days combined. It didn't matter though, when we returned home, my passion remained and I attended the next 2 FNMs before taking a break to have a baby.

This past year has brought me form clueless Magic novice to L1 judge looking to test for L2. I have learned so much about the game, but also about myself. My judge mentor and I chatted one day about my history and his comment was, "I'm surprised you stuck with it."  In truth, I am too!  It was a rocky road faced with challenges due to having a family and trying to find time to play, being a minority (female), and a complete lack of understanding or experience.  I've developed my rules knowledge, but also my perseverance over the past 12 months. Through the ups and downs of winning and losing, and passing and failing, through crazy trips with even crazier roommates (GP Houston), through late nights, early mornings, good pulls and bad plays, this first year of Magic has been a year of growth, learning, and change.  The lessons I have learned and the friends I have made will last a lifetime, and I hope that my Magic career will as well.


A special thanks to my Magic friends: Cole, Jackson, Shannon, Avery, Michael, and pretty much everyone at FNM. To Chris at Area 51 for giving me that first chance to judge a FNM. To my judge friends: Ben Zeero, Antonio Zanutto, Mitchell Nitz, Trevor Nunez (daggers!), Spin Rodriguez, and everyone in USA South Slack. To the Cascade Games guys for the fun times in Albuquerque and Austin: Tim Shields, Kyle Knudson, and John Cater. To my judge mentors: David Carroll, Jim Shuman, and especially Josh McCurley. And most of all to my husband: Brian Leonard. Without these guys I might have made it this far (ok, unlikely), but it certainly wouldn't have been as much fun.  Looking forward to many more years of making Magic memories with you guys!

I messed up the draft!

A few weeks ago I judged Magic events a non-Magic convention. We were kinda a sidenote, and not many players knew of our presence. We had a lot of folks drop in and say, "Wow, I wish I had known. I would have brought my stuff." Even so, we ran quite a few events and had a lot of fun. Most of our events were casual and run at Regular REL. However, we offered 1 premier event . . .

On Sunday, we held a championship event consisting of a draft for the Top 8 players from Saturday's 2 qualifier events. Competitive REL was used since this was a major event for very significant prize support (5th-8th got a box . . .). As a new judge, I hoped to be selected to run this event and gain some experience at Comp REL. Our Event Manager started to run it himself, but then asked if L1s could do it. I volunteered that I could run a GPT, so I should be able to do this too. (Probably reaching a bit here, since I had never even been on the floor at a Competitive event, but excitement got the best of me.) Luckily, he told me I could!

I had prepared the night before by looking over the IPG, and after seating a draft incorrectly on Friday, I had been taught how to do it correctly. I gathered my product, prepared the table, and printed seatings.

A diverse group of players greeted me. A 12 year old, 2 guys who had never played in a competitive event, a guy who had never drafted, a guy whose English was not strong, a grinder type, and an L2. All were excited to be there and eager to get started. I seated them clockwise around the table as I had been instructed and carefully explained how a draft works. I asked if there were questions, and answered them. They seemed eager to get started.

I instructed them to open the first pack and remove the basic land card, token, and/or checklist card and set those aside. Then I asked them to verify that they had 14 cards. Most nodded or mumbled affirmatively. I collected the trash while they announced their double faced cards. Then instructed them to select a card and place it in facedown in front of them. Then they passed to the left and the draft began. I watched closely as they selected a card and passed the remaining ones. They were careful to zone draft and not let any packs get messed up along the way.

Then a player stopped and started counting cards. He had passed 2 cards twice in a row. Somehow a card was missing. We checked and the other packs remaining all had the correct number of cards. The players counted their piles of drafted cards. All were correct. Finally we located the missing card in a pile of lands and tokens. Unsure of what to do, I consulted a nearby L3. He told me to return the card to its proper pack and continue drafting. I looked at the card and it was a common that likely would not have been drafted by this point anyway. I still felt terrible about the mistake, but didn't know what to do but make the best of things.

After that pack, I repeated my instructions about verifying that there were 14 cards before passing the pack and reminded the players to keep their drafted cards in a single facedown pile in front of them.

We opened the 2nd pack and the Event Manager sent an L1 judge over to Floor Judge for me. I stationed him at the other end of the table so that we could see everything better. The players opened pack 2, verified 14 cards and revealed the DFCs. L1 picked up the trash and walked to the trash can to toss it. This pack seemed to be going more smoothly. I focused on my 4 players leaving the far end of the table to L1. Somehow it happened again. Around the 4-6 cards left in each pack point, players started pointing out that cards were missing. Investigation revealed 3 missing cards from 2 different players. Another L2 came over to investigate. A player then told him that he had seen some cards on an opponent's playmat and had told the opponent to put all the cards in his drafted pile. We asked all the players to count their cards, and the player who had misplaced the card in pack one reported have 3 too many cards in his pile. The L2 examined the player's pile and easily identified 3 cards that would not have been drafted given the rest of the cards. L2 took those cards, randomized them, and gave them to the players missing cards. The draft continued, but it had a more ominous feel to it.

Pack 3 went without incident, but 4 judges camped at the table. Then we let the players spread out for deck construction. We worked to explain how decklists functioned and supervise the players as necessary. After the construction period ended, the FJ and I handled the rest of the event with no other major incidents. Overall the players seemed a bit miffed by the draft, but pleased as they left with their boxes of cards and other goodies.

I, on the other hand, felt sick over the entire incident. I couldn't identify my mistakes in handling the draft. Frustration over it happening twice overwhelmed me. I replayed each moment over and over in my head trying to see what I could have done better. Self-evaluation is both a blessing and a curse sometimes.

That evening I met with L3 to talk about what happened. He walked me through the event step by step. His conclusion was, "You didn't mess up the draft. The players did." As the judge, I felt responsible for the players, so wasn't that still me?  He stated that I had done everything correctly including seating them properly, instruction them to count the cards, and watching them closely. He also pointed out that every player had passed the defective packs at least once each time. Now noticing that you passed 12 cards twice in a row might be hard. But players passed 3 cards twice in a row and didn't mention it. I started to feel a little better, but deep down it still ate at me.

After returning home, I discussed the incident with my judge mentor. His exact words, "You didn't mess up the draft."  Ok, he didn't say 'mess,' but for the sake of this blog . . . .  He even pointed out that the L2 and L3 judges in attendance had already told me it wasn't my fault. My husband (L2) and a couple of other L2 friends all told me the same thing. But it didn't matter, no amount of people telling me not to blame myself took the guilt off my shoulders. L3 later pointed out that the players still had fun and that perhaps I hadn't been set up for success with that particular group of players. While all of their words made sense, I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something.

Fast forward 3 weeks: While studying the IPG before running a GPT at my local store, I found the answer I had been looking for . . . *lightbulb moment.* If this were a movie you would see a bright light and hear that "ahhh" otherworldly sound right now.

That's what I should have done.  I could have given the player who misplaced the first card a warning. That would have emphasized to him that he needed to be more careful and it would have given the other players a sense that the player had received an appropriate penalty. It would have demonstrated that I as the judge had the situation under control and that it had been dealt with.  Then when it occurred again in the second pack, it would have been upgraded to a Game Loss. While issuing penalties is never fun, it does provide a way to 'right the wrong' that has occurred in an event and allow the players to see that a solution is taking place.

When I asked my judge mentor about it he agreed that I should have given the penalties. He also said, "I cannot explain why I did not mention that to you previously." I also find it odd that none of the 6 judges (all L2+) with whom I have spoken about this draft mentioned this particular rule to me. One suggested that it's so rarely used that most everyone forgets about it.  Perhaps he is right?

In the end, I'm glad I found it.  I feel a measure of pride in being able to find the answer to a question that has haunted me for weeks now. It affirms my worth as a judge when I am able to evaluate my own failure and create a plan for future success. Mostly, I'm just glad to have the closure I needed and to allow my brain to let go of this incident and move on.

I'd like to add a special thanks to all of judges that have listened to me rant about this draft.  I appreciate your listening ears and your kind words. However, despite what all of you said, I DID MESS UP THE DRAFT!

Passed

Since you already know the backstory (if not read Failed!), and I'm sure you guessed the result by the title of this post, I'll skip the announcement and cut right to the fun part.  The story of how it came about. The truth is, it was a group effort. I could not have passed that test without the support of a bunch of L2s, so here it is, a list of the most important things they said to me.

Jason Daniels: Our job is to make sure players play legally, not to make sure they play well.
As I contemplated preparing to be a Magic judge, I believed that I would first need to become an accomplished player.  I thought that I would need to be able to educate players on the proper plays in various situations and serve as a sort of 'coach' to new players. Since I was a new player myself, I had a long way to go towards that end. However, Jason explained that our role as judges is to ensure that players make legal choices and follow the rules. That makes the game fair and fun for everyone. Our job is not to help them actually play; their own skill will be needed for that. We serve as neutral arbitrators to help players with difficult situations and provide them a resource for resolving problems.
Thanks Jason for taking the time to chat with me at that GPT and open the door for me to become a judge.

David Carroll: I think it's fair to say I liked you from the start.
I played my first game of Legacy ever with a deck David let me borrow.  I also got my first penalty ever with a decklist David gave me.  Afterwards he taught me an important lesson: always verify your own decklist.  While he did apologize, he did not take responsibility. And he's right.  My deck and decklist are my responsibility, and I tried to take the lazy road and turn in the one he handed me sight unseen.  In every interaction with David, he has pushed me to be a little bit better.  Correcting my terminology in Slack, providing feedback on my cover letter, pointing out the 1 question I missed as room for improvement. David liked me enough to never let me settle for less than top tier.
Thanks David for holding me to the highest standards.

Jim Shuman: When are you taking your L1 test?
Jim walked up to me in the middle of a match at the Hunter Burton Memorial Magic Open and asked me that. I struggled to figure out how to play while having that conversation.  Ok, I struggled to play anyway, but trying to talk and play . . . almost impossible.  But when Jim walked away, my opponent looked at me in semi-awe and said, "You're a judge?"  I had wanted to judge that exact event, but couldn't because I failed my certification test. Playing in the event while my friends judged made that stand out to me even more. Jim helped me realize that while I'm not actually a certified judge yet, I am a member of the judge community and have the support of other judges.
Thanks Jim for giving me that boost of acceptance and encouragement when my frustration level was the highest.

Antonio Zanutto: You can't do math while running from a lion.
The night before my L1 test, coincidentally also the day I met Antonio, he was helping me study.  We stayed up late going over scenarios and I expressed my nervousness.  He explained that I would need to relax enough to think clearly while taking the test.  His poignant way of stating such a pragmatic fact really struck a chord with me and made me smile during the actual test.
Thanks Antonio for the last minute advice that made all the difference.

Josh McCurley: You ARE a judge. 
I don't think either Josh or I want to count the exact number of times he made that statement to me. After I failed my first L1 exam I fought the urge to give up.  Magic is a complicated game and maybe learning the rules was too much for me. I was also frustrated that my plans for judging upcoming events had been changed.  That I had learned some things wrong and needed to re-learn them.  That I'm a girl in a man's world of judging. That my husband was better than me - lots better.  Josh was there to talk me off that ledge-several times.  He offered me a listening ear, late night jokes, and answers to all of my million questions. No matter how upset I got, he was the level-headed one who reminded me that even at L0, I was a judge. He showed me a multitude of ways to get involved in the program and offered his name as a reference, and little by little, I stepped out of my box and into my new role.
Thanks Josh for all the good conversations and for never letting me lose sight of my goal.

Brian Leonard: I'm proud of you baby.
My husband, the L2. While it was a roller coaster of a ride, sometimes filled with frustration, jealousy, tears, or long study sessions, there is no one I would have rather been with than you.  You were the first person to support my goal, and you put up with me through the good times and the bad. You shared your knowledge while still allowing me to chart my own (albeit rocky) path. You never gave in to my fits of frustration, and you never let me win unless I was right.  The night I won my first rules debate against you was a turning point for me and since then you have let me build up a belief in myself.
Thanks baby for loving me, supporting me, and sharing this journey with me!


I'd also like to add a few quick "thank yous":
 . . . to Chris as Area 51 for letting me help with some FNMs.
 . . . to L2 Preston May, the guy who saw me fail and saw me pass, and encouraged me both times.
 . . . to Jessica Livingston, Mitchell Nitz, Trevor Nunez, Steve Wise, and all of the #trainingroom crew.

By His Side

We've been married for 5 years.  FIVE YEARS! I'd say 5 long years, but really, they have flown by so fast that if he hadn't reminded me, I wouldn't have known it was that long.


We met playing World of Warcraft online.  (If you are not familiar, it's a massively multiplayer online role-playing game, or MMORPG.)  I was the leader of a large, competitive raiding guild.  He was a player looking for a new guild home.  Three years of playing together later, he was the Raid Leader (a very prestigious role) in the guild and we worked together to run the group, along with the help of some exceptional officers (Penimus). I attended an unrelated conference in his city . . . and he asked me on a date.  He ended up moving to Texas to be with me.  We took a 3 week tour to drive around the country and stay with many of our raiders (Blizzazed). He proposed at Blizzcon in 2010 in front of some of our raiders (Paz).

Then, we retired from WoW and settled down to start a family.  Those were some good years in terms of our lives - we had 2 kids, bought a beautiful home, he found a great job and started working on a degree, etc.  But they were some tough years in terms of our relationship with each other.  The strains of daily life, kids, mortgage payments, college, etc. took their toll.  We drifted apart even while living together.  We shared common goals and both strove to meet them.  We both did our parts to make life work, but it was work.  Somehow, we lost the 'spark.'

Two years ago, some of Brian's friends invited us to play Magic: the gathering, a trading card game.  Brian took to it immediately and before long was attending (and winning) tournaments.  I was a bit slower to come around.  I tried to be supportive, but I think I only succeeded in being mildly resentful, and jealous.  He went to play every Friday night, and some weekend days too, leaving me alone.  It wouldn't have been as bad, but with work and school I barely saw him anyway.  I began to hate the game.

One day Brian and I talked.  More accurately, he called me out.  He reminded me that we met playing a game.  He was a gamer when I met him, and so was I.  He proposed at a gaming conference. Many of our best memories were from our gaming days.  Wow! (ok, pun intended)  That hit me pretty hard.  He was right.  And I changed.  I stopped giving him a hard time about playing and became much more supportive.

One Friday night, I went to watch him play.  It was fun.  Enough fun that I gave the game another try.  It still took almost a year of intermittent play for me to come around, but last May I played in a huge competitive tournament with him in Las Vegas, and my spark ignited.  After that trip I couldn't wait to play again.  The passion for the game began to consume me as I learned the rules, tried new decks, and attended every Friday night that I could get a babysitter. Now don't get me wrong, there were frustrations: complicated rules, lack of babysitting, expensive entry fees, and I am still not allowed in the group chat due to my gender.  But overall, the good outweighed the bad, and excepting the time I took off when our third child was born, I've played weekly since.

Which brings us to our 5 year anniversary, and our anniversary trip - to a Magic Grand Prix of course!  My wonderful mother agreed to keep all 3 kids for the weekend, so we entered the tournament.  We decided to cut costs by joining forces with some friends, so we and 3 guys rode together and shared a room.  Now if you are imagining a 4 hour car ride filled with beef jerky and fart jokes, you're right on the money. We piled into a decent sized hotel room where Brian and I were able to pay extra for the "bed spots" and all dumped our bags to head for the convention center.  After playing Magic until 9pm, we headed out for our anniversary dinner. I had originally hoped for sushi, but by that late was dying for pizza.  Brian managed to find a fantastic local dive-y place 12 blocks from the hotel, so after a brisk hike, we squished into this hole-in-the-wall and managed to order some food.  It was well worth it as the pizza was amazing!  And yes, for my anniversary dinner, I ordered pizza and beers and served them to table full of guys.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Saturday and Sunday we played a lot of Magic, and I overheard a lot of guys talking about their wives being mad at them for playing, or discussing what they had to do to get their wives to let them come.  It made me sad that these men had to beg, bribe, or sneak to enjoy a hobby.  Saturday night we piled into a too small Uber for a night of fajitas and margaritas, and had a blast.  Sunday morning came early, but we all survived the day.  As I drove home that night, with a carload of sleeping guys, it hit me . . . when we are gaming together we are sharing a passion, not just a purpose.

I'm so lucky to be married to a man that not only invites me to join him, but encourages me to pursue my own interests as well.  As with WoW, we each play our own way and do our own thing, but sometimes a mid-round shoulder rub, or holding hands in the registration line is a nice bonus too! So after some trial and error and a 3 year gaming drought, I realized that I where I most want to be is playing by his side.

Failed!

I failed today.

I fail every day in the little things like 'I forgot to empty the cat box' or 'I wore my underwear inside out all day.' But failure in the BIG things is pretty rare for me.  It only happens when I step outside my box and reach for something new.  I love a challenge.  I love the feeling of learning, working, struggling, and coming out on top.

I've had a lot of success.
My accomplishments include:

• Yearbook Editor
• Spanish Club President
• Golf Team Captain
• High School Valedictorian
• Bachelor's Degree
• Master's Degree
• Won UIL, MathCounts, and Future City competitions and awards
• Married to the man of my dreams
• World of Warcraft Guild Leader of a Top 200 US ranked guild
• Bought the perfect house
• 3 beautiful kids and a TON of parenting milestones
• Gotten every job I have ever still wanted after the interview
• And too many more to list . . ..

The last failure of this magnitude that I can remember was in the 7th grade (over 20 years ago).  I tried out for cheerleader.  I was not cute, terribly athletic, or perky in any way, but I saw those cool girls and wanted to be one of them.  I went to a few classes and thought I knew what I was doing, but I was in way over my head.  I came home, cried, and thought the world was ending.  (I was a preteen girl - the world WAS ending!)  My parents helped me to see that the world was not in fact ending, but that there would be other opportunities.  After some mourning, I got busy - I attended cheer classes, tumbling clinics, practices, and anything else I could for an entire year.  And the next year, I tried out again and made the squad.  While I still get that sick to my stomach feeling when I think back to that day of finding out that I didn't make it the first time, I'm now glad for the experience because it taught me how to fail - and fail hard - and still bounce back.  And as an adult looking back, I can see that I am a better person for it.  

I'm so glad that I have the guts to try - to go for it - to stretch myself into new territory.  I'm used to great success and little else.  In fact, so used to it that I've forgotten what it feels like to fail.  

To be fair, I knew I was reaching on this one before I even started.  I have been playing Magic for less than a year.  Many players were playing when I was in 7th grade - literally.  Most players testing for judge certification have played a lot more Magic than me, for a lot more years.  It's a complicated game.  It has a lot of complex rules to memorize and even more intricate interactions among those rules.  I have studied - a lot.  I have done everything I knew to do including asking others to help, reading the rules online, taking practice tests, playing JudgeTower, following forums, interacting with other judges, and trying to immerse myself in the mindset of a judge.  While I learned many, many things, it wasn't enough.

I failed.

And that's ok.  I knew going in that rules were not my strong suit.  I was still struggling with some concepts that I needed to know.  I also had some misconceptions in my head form mistakes I made while studying.  In the end, I failed by 2%, which means I was close, but I didn't get there.  

My judge mentor said, "I think you are ready for the task in attitude. And that is what makes great judges, not all the v rules stuff. :-)"[sic]  While his undeserved compliment certainly assuaged my bruised ego, it also led to some serious introspection.  I 'studied' the wrong things.  I worried about how judges look, how they act, and how they interact because I was worried about the interview.  I was worried that this man would see me, a female new player, as not worthy of being a judge.  I tried to figure out what questions he would ask me and how to answer them to convince him of my worth.  Looking back, my efforts paid off, and I must have seemed fairly competent because he only asked me 1 question, "Do you have any questions for me?"  Needless to say, I had no idea how to answer that one.  There were millions of them running through my head - tricky rules interactions, queries about working at larger events, fears of handling tough situations, details of infractions, and even wondering about the possibility of further advancement - but I didn't dare ask any of them right then.  He was busy simultaneously working with 4 judges/candidates and I was too nervous to think clearly, so I just took the test.

But I didn't know the rules well enough to pass.  I missed 3 questions about the exact same mechanic, giving the same incorrect answer 3 times.  I missed 2 questions by not reading carefully enough.  I missed 2 more questions by just getting them wrong.  And the last question I missed my mentor said he would have chosen the same answer as me.  So overall, I missed enough things in enough different ways to conclusively say that it was me - not the test, bad questions, weird wording, or any other reason.

I would actually guess that the rules test is a 'non-issue' with many judge candidates because the longer you play the game, the more rules you learn, which leaves me, the new player, at a decided disadvantage of my own making.

So while I could use this time for anger, frustration, sadness, or laying blame, I think I'll skip all of those and do what I did 20+ years ago when I failed.  I'll pick myself up and go study the rules a little harder, because when the opportunity to test comes up again, I will be prepared.

The Evolution of a Judge

I am preparing to take a test.  Not really just a test, a TEST.  A big deal opportunity for me to take a step up in the world.  In this particular case, it's a test related to a hobby I enjoy.  I'm really excited about it, but I'm a little terrified at the same time.  After 4 years of being a stay-at-home mom, it's a little weird getting back out into the gaming scene.  Keep reading to follow my journey into a whole new world.

In 2013, my husband and his friends wanted to play Magic: The Gathering at his dad's house while we were in Seattle visiting for Christmas.  I had never played before, and other than hearing the name, knew nothing about it, but decided that I like games . . . so what's to lose, right?

Background on me: I play to win.  Every game, all the time, every time.  I play for fun too.  Winning is fun.  When I learn a new game, I read the rules (all of them) and use them to my advantage while playing.  I ask questions, exploit gray areas, and generally push the limits.  Playing by the rules is important to me though - cheating is not ok, even if it means that you lose.

Magic is a complicated game.  Really complicated.  The rules are found in an app that is hundreds of pages long.  Clearly, I started out at a disadvantage.

We began with a draft.  This means that we sat in a circle and each opened a package containing 15 cards.  We then selected 1 card, and passed the rest to the person on our left.  So next we are each holding 14 cards.  Pick 1, pass 13 to the left.  You get the idea.  After doing this for 3 packages (passing the second package to the right, third package to the left again), you hold 45 cards from which you assemble a deck (stack of cards) to use to play against other people.

I took my 45 cards and looked at them.  They were all the same color (good, right?) and had various skills and abilities, none of which I knew anything about.  I chose the best ones for my deck by looking at them and guessing how good they were.  Let's just say . . . I lost every game.  In fact I lost every game badly even while my opponents tried to tell me the rules as I repeatedly broke most of them.

That night, one of the guys there was D'Art.  D'Art said he was a "judge."  That sounded pretty scary, but it turned out that he has a passion for helping new players.  In fact, the way he explained the concepts to me made the game accessible to me.  It changed 'something I didn't understand' into 'something I could learn.'  He took his time and didn't rush me, explaining the same thing over and over again if necessary (and it was very necessary).  He broke concepts down into smaller parts and explained the complicated vocabulary of tapping lands for mana, declaring attackers and blockers, casting spells, and responding to triggered abilities.  While I can't say it improved my play that night, I am forever grateful to D'Art for opening that first door for me to learn the game.

We played again a few nights later.  We even went to a game store to buy more cards.  (Yet another enlightening experience . . . )  My play didn't improve much, and after that trip, I twice went to a local game store in February, and lost badly.  My husband kept playing sporadically, but I pretty much stopped. (I did play once in May - badly.)

In Seattle again for Thanksgiving 2014, we played more Magic with the same guys.  I was still terrible, but I had learned a little from watching my husband play.  It was more fun than the first time.  (This is where the addiction starts.  Golfers, you understand this too.)

My husband and his brother started playing pretty regularly.  He went every Friday night to play and sometimes even entered tournaments on Saturdays.  I, still clueless, tried the game store once more in December, and then just watched him play from time to time, and was a little jealous of the fun he was having.  He made new friends, built decks, traded cards, and got invited to drafts at people's houses.

May 2015: While I was pregnant with our 3rd child, I for some inexplicable reason decided that I wanted to go to Las Vegas with him for a Magic Grand Prix tournament.  I had never been to Las Vegas and thought the trip would be fun.  He could play; I could explore.  We could eat, enjoy shows, and I could watch him play in the tournament on Saturday.  His dad had a timeshare we could use; my mom agreed to watch our 2 toddlers . . . it was a plan.

Somehow the idea came up that I could play in the tournament.  It wasn't that expensive.  The format was sealed (you get your cards there and do not have to bring a premade deck), so it didn't matter that I had no cards.  It sounded like more fun that just watching.  Plus, you could sign up for a VIP package with cool perks like a name badge and a 'meet and greet' with famous Magic players.  (It turns out that this VIP thing also entitled you to 4 days of free freshly baked Mrs Field's cookies -served warm anytime you wanted one.)  So while I was nervous about the actual playing, I registered. More accurately, my husband registered me, despite my trepidation.

Several other local guys went to this tournament.  They all had matching shirts to represent our local game store.  (Thanks Area 51!) My awesome husband got me a shirt too!!  (Please note: I'm pretty sure that the local store was in no way actually affiliated with me since I had darkened their door a grand total of 5 times before this experience.  I'm also pretty sure that they would have been horrified to be represented by my inept play.)  I was excited to be a part of the group, even if I wasn't really 'on the team.'  I felt so proud to be a player.

I quizzed my husband on the rules and on how tournaments work, having never been to one before.  He kept telling me to "call a judge" if I had questions or needed help.  That sounded like a terrible idea - ask the lords of the game to waste their time on me? Plus, I didn't want to get penalized for being terrible. I mentally resolved that calling a judge would be a last resort and that I would never be that desperate.

So somewhere along the way, out trip got extended.  We flew in Wednesday night and left Monday morning so that we would have 4 full, glorious days of playing Magic.  I had also booked us to see several shows and checked out Grand Canyon tours and other local Magic-free adventures.  As I waddled my 7 month-pregnant self from the airport to our room, I realized just how HOT it was in the desert in May.  Any outdoor plans were immediately nixed.  That first night we enjoyed walking the strip, saw a show, purchased a few necessities at an exorbitant price from a convenience store, and went to bed.

Thursday morning we arrived early to check in for the tournament and claim the all important VIP badges.  We pre-registered for a Sealed Trial (basically a practice Magic tournament).  We played a few small side events, and then in the Sealed Trial, I actually did pretty well.  (I went 3-1-1. Three wins, 1 loss, 1 draw.)  That was a turning point for me.  It whetted my appetite for winning - a dangerously insatiable thing.

As the weekend continued, I immersed myself in not just the game of Magic, but the culture as well.  We met up with our local team guys and enjoyed hanging out together.  We met artists who created the cards, professional players, and lots of other gamers just like us.

The Magic community is a very inclusive group.  No one seems to care if you have purple hair, lots of piercings, a wheelchair, makeup on, or anything else.  There are players of every race and nationality.  Players from all over, speaking all kids of languages. Players who are brand new to the game (me!), players who have played for 20 years (literally).  Everyone just plays with and against whoever they are paired with, happily, without judgment.  Note: While bathing is encouraged, even that is not required!

By Friday, I never wanted to leave the convention center.  The strip was hot, crowded, loud, dirty, and really not that much fun.  Inside that building I found a community of people that embraced me and valued one another for their skills, not their looks or other superficial things. I knew I was home.

While I can't say that I played well the rest of the weekend, I can certainly say that I had fun.  I loved every minute of it.  I started to feel the flow of matches and games.  I learned the little things, like how to shuffle the cards, and how to keep life totals.

I even called a judge a few times!  These judges were not tyrants or rulers.  They were actually really cool guys.  They seemed to like helping players (even really bad ones).  They explained the rules and I learned a lot.  Their rulings generally caused me to lose - but it was my own fault, and I accept that.  Each judge smiled at me, looked me in the eye, clearly detailed the situation and what occurred, and corrected my misunderstandings. I am ever so grateful for these gentlemen who took the time to be kind while dealing with a newbie like me.

On Saturday, in the main event, my husband and I were slotted on opposite sides of the room for an 8,000 player event.  I was a bit nervous reporting to my table for the player meeting, but the judges walked us all through deck registration, construction, and the tournament itself.  I lost my first 3 matches pretty quickly . . .

My husband did well, and one of our friends did even better.  He made it to the second day of the event!  Seeing that success was energizing - it made me crave more as well.  I knew that Magic was no longer my husband's hobby.  It was mine as well.

In the 2 months following that trip, I attended a couple more Friday Night Magic (FNM) events and a couple of larger tournaments.  Then in July I played in another Grand Prix, this one in our home city.  It was still a couple of weeks before my due date, so I explained to my husband that if I went into labor, we would finish the tournament, then head to the hospital.  That way he would not hastily drop form the tournament if my water broke!  I didn't play well again, but had a blast!

My husband told me that the way to get good at Magic is to lose a lot of games.  Well, I worked hard towards that goal - and lost a lot of games!

I took a few weeks off in August to have a baby, but otherwise, I was at FNM as many weeks as I could find a babysitter.

I did notice that our local store rarely had a judge around.  The rounds were always running late.  No one knew what was going on. The store owner often made rulings on games, which a player looked up afterwards and they were often wrong.  I missed the more structured, well run atmosphere of the Grand Prix events.  Note: Our players were always gracious and accepted the situation for what it was.

I decided to pursue my judge certification.  My husband was working on his, so I knew the steps, and set about following them on my own.  In October I learned how to take practice tests online.  I downloaded the rules app to my phone and began studying.  The I took test after test, failing most of them.  While I didn't score well, I learned a lot.  I saw my weaknesses and worked on learning those things.

After a while I felt like I should just drop it.  I was terrible at the rules and my husband constantly pointed that out.  Even when I thought I made a correct ruling, he shot me down.  Then one night, we disagreed on a ruling while playing at home.  I explained my ruling and cited the relevant rules text and he still told me I was wrong.  A few days later, he looked me in the eye and apologized.  He explained that I had been correct and he disliked that he was incorrect.  That moment was another game changer.

Since then we have disagreed on many rulings, but we have looked them up to see who was correct, and I'm proud to say that my percentage is improving.  My confidence was waning, but seeing that he could accept my rulings changed that.  Realizing that knowledge and correct application of the rules would gain me respect regardless of how long I have played was refreshing.  My excitement grew and I studied harder.  The local store even let me help judge a few casual events.

For Christmas 2015, we returned to Seattle and I got another chance to play with the guys who saw my first Magic draft.  It was quite a different experience! They played with me as an equal.  I even got the chance to thank D'Art for showing me how cool judges are as well as helping me learn to play.  I came home excited about joining the ranks of judging! I set a personal goal to complete my L1 judge certification before our anniversary trip (to a Magic Grand Prix of course!) at the end of February.

I joined a Magic Facebook group and started following the local scene, especially noting the local judges.  While I don't get to go out and play as much as I'd like (babysitting is expensive!) at least I'm in the loop. I also set up a profile on the judge website and learned how to apply to judge at larger events.  I've also tried to help out the local store with their publicity by promoting them on Facebook and updating the in-store calendar.  I'm excited to help grow the game of Magic in our local community.

In the past weeks, I played in several larger competitive events, paying attention to how they were run as well as the judges roles and behaviors.  I also took and passed the online L0 test and the L1 practice test.  I joined a Facebook Magic study group, and familiarized myself with our regional coordinator.  I am gaining more and more confidence in my rulings, and I feel like I'm ready.

A few days ago, I contacted a local L2 judge who can test me for my L1.  This particular judge was recommended to me by my husband as a quality judge who is working on his L3 and looking to certify new judges.  Note: He certified my husband.

Background on me: While I love my husband and enjoy gaming with him, it is important to me that what I achieve, I achieve on my own.  (Warning: I might get a little militant about this part!)

I messaged the judge on Facebook, but received no response after several days of excitedly checking my phone.  Grudgingly, I asked my husband for the judge's Hangouts name and sent a message.  He replied instantly!

I introduced myself and said that I was looking to become a judge.  He immediately asked who referred me to him. Fair question I suppose, but I was hoping to avoid the 'tag-along-wife' moniker.  I simply stated my husband's name.  The L2's response, "By the last name am i correct in assuming you are related? :-)" [sic]

*sigh* I didn't want to go there.  I wanted to do this on my own.  But no way to dodge that question.  I told him the truth.

"Has he been working with you on the rules . . ."  No!!!!!  Well, actually yes, he has.  At my insistence.  As I'm studying, I ask him about concepts I need clarification on and we work through scenarios together.  I do most of my studying on my own.  I just practice with my husband.  And yes, our pillow talk is about Magic.

Again, I don't mind that I study with my husband, but the way the question was phrased sounded to me like it implied that the impetus was on my husband - and that is not true.  My desire to be a judge has nothing to do with him.

The judge finally moved on to asking about my qualifications. I have met all of the requirements to test, so he invited me to meet up with him in 2 weeks for the test.  My excitement was tempered when he suggested that I bring my husband.

Maybe I'm reading too much into things here, but I think I can test on my own.  I can drive myself (I know, woman drivers!), I know the material, I will rock the interview - I'm ready for this.  All my work and studying really felt belittled by "bring your husband."

I am quite certain that this judge meant no offense.  In fact, he was probably being nice and trying to make me feel more comfortable.

I internally ranted and raved about feeling like a lesser human being due to 'lack of penis,' but outwardly I kept my cool and responded politely to the judge.  I know that the only way to change the  initial opinion that a female, newer player, whose husband is a judge is not as good is to be THAT GOOD.  So in 2 weeks, I will go alone, pass my test, ace my interview, and show that judge (and more importantly myself) that I am qualified to judge and that I will be an asset to the Magic community as an L1.

Then I'll start work on my L2 . . .