Rhythm

All the buildup, the planning, the flights and hotels, they culminate in a moment whose sights, sounds and smells all feel so familiar, yet never the same. Each event has a rhythm, a feel and a tune, that undulates slowly as you walk in the room. The doors open slowly, the event hall is filled with booths, vendors, and tables in various states of setup and build. One by one people enter and join in the flow, each a part of river down which all will go.

The truck door slides up and the forklifts roll past as one by one items are carted from the first to the last. Each team with its tasks to sort, stack, and display, all getting ready for tomorrow’s opening day. The work is demanding, but community is built as piece by piece comes together to prepare. By the end of the night bodies are tired and worn, but the room is in order and ready to go. The morrow will bring crowds that will flock in and open the show.

The morning’s quiet anticipation lingers over rows upon rows of perfectly set chairs and tables adorned with crisp tablecloths and neatly placed table numbers. No dice on the floor, no smells in the air, no movement at all. The air handlers humming softly in preparation for the rush that is to come. Standing on the stage and looking out over the place, quietly envisioning the crowds and the chaos that will soon fill the space.

Slowly few by few the staff trickles in, most are excited and eager to begin. Some sore from setup, some tired from flights, some feeling the effect of the previous night. Greetings are exchanged, many hugs, many laughs. Shirts are changed and pockets are stuffed with notebooks and pens. The players arrive and tournaments begin.

In clumps and teams judges take to the floor guiding the players and flipping the rounds. Throughout the day laughter abounds as they interact with one another as friends asking and answering helping and herding. The events rise and fall like waves in the sea, one following another overlapping a bit. Each one changes the landscape subtly as it comes and it goes and when it’s gone it leaves no traces, only memories.

As evening draws to a close the events wrap up. The staff rolls out in small groups seeking dinner and rest. The tables show clutter, their cloths sit askew. Tired chairs are pushed in, but not quite as neat and you can see on the floor where food had met feet. The printers fall silent, the scorekeepers wrap up, and alone on the stage once more you see silence.

The next mornings the same tune plays again as slower and slower the judges roll in. Anticipation is waning by the very end, but show up they do and begin all again. Each day like the last with clipboards and slips, the events one by one called from the announcer’s lips.

The final evening brings one of the best parts: dismantling the show and reloading the carts. Hand trucks and dollies, forklifts and flight cases each of the items in their assigned spaces. Dropping the banners, trashing one time use signage, tablecloth folding, and pallet wrapping - each task assigned and completed with ease. Everyone tired and ready to leave. One last thing the closing the truck, no sound is as nice as that door banging shut. Locking the lock and driving away, so sad yet satisfying, at the end of a day.

Trial By Fire

The Judge Program is not robust enough to have clear operational manuals on things. There's a strong oral and observational tradition for teaching these tasks.    - Riki Hayashi

In the judge program, I've been given a lot of amazing opportunities. In almost every case, those opportunities have come as a surprise to me.  On Wednesday, SCG Open Head Judge Steven Briggs posted the schedule for the weekend. I opened it and discovered that my name appeared as a team lead.

Now to be fair, I've been working towards my Team Lead Certification (TLC), but the most recent feedback I had received is that I lacked the experience to team lead. With that in mind, I had opted to apply to a few more GPs and request Main Event assignments to get in some reps on the floor. I had mentally put the TLC in the 'later' category and moved on to other pursuits. Suddenly TLC popped back to the forefront in a most unexpected way.

I scanned the rest of the list and noted the other team leads. Jason Daniels, a guy who gave me a bit of advice that nudged me into believing I could become a judge and who has challenged me to improve every time we've worked together. John Trout, another well-known, quality local judge with a ton of experience. Josh McCurley, my judge mentor. The guy who guided me through my rocky path into the judge program and has talked me off a few ledges. He's been with me every step of this journey and I couldn't be here without him. Joe Klopchic, who spent several hours chatting with me after my last Open and gave me my first real evaluation as a judge. David Hibbs, my RC, and a person for whom I have the deepest level of respect. David's quiet strength and exceptional level of personal integrity produce a trustworthy leader whose presence shapes an event.

Clearly my name appeared on the incorrect line. I read it again. I refreshed the page. Nope. Still there. I couldn't make sense of it for a minute. Why would they make me a team lead? I looked at the other judges on the list and noted quite a few with more experience than me. Baffled, I continued scanning the document.

In an even more bizarre twist, the word printed above my name: Deck Checks. First off, I've never liked doing a deck check. My hands are awkward and clumsy, and my inexperience with the game of Magic means I rarely recognize cards by name or art. For me deckchecking is a painful, tedious process likely to produce migraine headaches. Equipped with an updated contact lens prescription, I hoped at least the headaches would not interfere with this new assignment.

I successfully avoided deckcheks for most of my early judge career, however, noting that serving on each team comprised a TLC requirement, I had resigned myself to learning deckchecks and requested a day of them at GP Louisville. That one day encompassed my entire deckchecking experience. While it was a good day, I spent it desperately trying to speed up my times and not really paying as much attention to the logistics of the team as a whole.

After the initial panic subsided, I realized that I had a lot of work to do. I reread Briggs' e-mail twice. I noted his preferences and foci and considered my next steps. His clearly detailed expectations set a tone of attention to detail and I immediately felt more comfortable knowing what would be expected of me. I set up a facebook chat group with my team and introduced myself to them. I called a judge friend and asked for some tips on deckchecks team leading. I reread the IPG sections on D/DLP and Marked Cards. I pulled out my judge notebook and jotted down a quick break schedule for my team. I messaged Briggs with a few questions about his specific preferences for deckchecks.

After my kids went to bed, I sat down to do some more serious research. I checked out the JudgeApps and facebook profiles of each of my team members. I found that I had an L2 who was getting back into big events and 3 L1s with relatively little large event experience. All seemed to be competent judges who might need some guidance on the logistical aspects of our team's role in the event as a whole. Only one of them had I previously worked with. Those observations shaped my approach to leading my team.

The next day, I called a senior judge and we talked for several hours. I had him walk me through the minutiae of deckchecks one detail at a time. From, "Do I have to ask the scorekeeper for a list of random tables or do they normally do that on their own?" to "What does 'pulling day 2 lists' mean?" Thank goodness for his patience while I asked him about how to organize lists, how many checks to do, how to pair my guys, what to say in my team meeting, and everything else. I frantically wrote seven notebook pages of really important notes like, "keep lists in box." He added the details that demonstrate finesse to my rudimentary understanding of the deckchecks process as well as generally educating me on the basic concepts. I ended that conversation feeling completely out of my league and overwhelmed. He sensed my panic and told me that when a situation comes up all I need to do is: Stop. Breathe. Ask what makes sense.  His confidence in me may have been the only confidence at that point.

That evening I messaged Josh McCurley, my longtime judge mentor and anchor. He also expressed confidence in me and added more information and tips. I had no idea that coverage would want to see decklists or that I'd also be asked to do targeted checks by various folks. I especially love that he always makes time for my neurotic questions and never tires of helping me out. I fell asleep that night with so many ideas swimming in my head.

On Friday Briggs sent out more information to the team leads. The fact that we didn't have a TL meeting added to my fears. I tried to assimilate everything I knew into a plan that made sense, but it wouldn't come together in my head. Joe and Emily Klopchic arrived in the afternoon and Joe sat down with me and went over things again. His wisdom has been invaluable to me on several occasions now. His patient manner helped calm me down a bit and his confidence in me surprised me, but it felt good to know someone of his quality believed in me.

That evening Emily and I went out to dinner. I confided my fears to her and she replied, "They didn't make you a team lead because they think you'll be perfect. They made you a team lead because they think you can handle it when things get [messed] up." Somehow those words changed my thinking. I went to bed Friday night feeling good.

During the night I slept poorly, whether it be due to nerves or excitement is debatable, but either way I couldn't seem to drift off. I also messaged with one of my team members whose bus delayed in another state. His updates made it clear that we'd be starting the day without him. My groggy 3am brain automatically shifted the pieces into place for how I could utilize his partner to help organize lists during round 1 with me while I sent the other pair on a mid-round check and then reevaluate once he arrived. I drifted back to sleep with logistics dancing in my head.

The morning brought an early start. A hot shower reduced the sharp pain from inflamed plantar fasciitis and my sore lower back. Breakfast consisted of a children's Tylenol and a Gatorade. I know, I've heard all the 'take care of yourself' mantras. I rarely use Tylenol, but I could barely walk, so I took one. The Gatorade is a part of my hydration plan for the event. With two more Gatorades tucked in my judge bag, we hit the road right on time.

We arrived in plenty of time to don our Star City blue judge shirts, greet our friends, and start the day. Joe, who is a saint, brought me some hot chocolate from Starbucks. As I prepared for judging, my routine calmed the butterflies in my stomach. I clipped on my nametag, filled my pocket with two judge pens, a notebook, a Sharpie, lip balm, and my token, and tucked in my shirt. Seeing the team around me doing likewise, a sense of calm descended on me. My team members gravitated to me and I welcomed them.

Briggs began the day with a hearty greeting. He then asked team leads who they were missing and I let him know about our stranded traveler. Following the initial announcements I met with my team and detailed our day's tasks and plans to them. They seemed eager and on top of things. Relief filled me as instinct kicked in and things fell into place. I bounced back and forth between coordinating with other team leads and communicating with my team. Hibbs, Nate Hurley, and I put together a plan to collect decklists and distribute goodies at the start of the day. I found the decklist box and prepared it for use. I checked in with scorekeeper Patrick Vorbroker. Each task I mentally ticked off my list strengthened my confidence.

As the event began, each team distributed and collected as assigned. I rounded up the decklists and my team set to work turning the piles into an organized, alphabetized system. We got that round 1 mid-round deckcheck in, but missed our goal of having all the lists done by the end of the first round. As my partner swooped round 2, I noted that O/P was the only remaining pile. After our round 2 checks, we knocked it out. Briggs advised me to check if the owners of the four missing decklists had dropped. Before I even had a chance to do so, one of my team members reported that he'd checked, and in fact all four had dropped. We threw in a targeted check, and still had time to hit the floor to help with end of round.

I sent my partner on a round 3 break, and the other pair in round 4. I also had one of them pick up Starbucks for our team. Knowing that we were down a person and one of them had driven in early in the morning, the little treat seemed the obvious choice to boost morale. (And if you know me, you will be aware of my hot chocolate addiction.) I managed to take some time off the floor in round 5 myself and used the time to meet with another judge about an unrelated project.

Our checks improved as the day went on and I saw each of my team members improving. I made some brief notes for use in later review writing. I issued a few D/DLP penalties and Briggs corrected me for how I noted them on the slips. I really appreciate him taking the time to point out an error to me and give me the opportunity to fix it during the day. It reminded me to provide real-time feedback to other judges as well.

I took a moment to sit down with Emma, the day 2 deckchecks lead to discuss the handoff. I let her know of my plan to pull the lists before leaving. In round 8 we pulled the first batch and in 9 we pulled more after our checks were completed. I noted the team behind me sorting match slips and used those to pull even more lists. Balancing the stage's requests for day 2 lists to copy with pulling proved to be an exciting challenge. My team worked through the debrief and had almost all the lists done by the time our day ended. Joe helped me pull the final few before we left. I felt good about handing off the lists with day 2 ready to go.

The day itself felt rather anti-climactic. Judges nailed their assignments, players received first class treatment, and we all had a blast. Looking back, I felt like there were several times where someone asked me to do a task, and I simply let them know the answer or that it had been completed. While I didn't really know I was supposed to do it, some combination of instinct and preparations just led me to doing things that needed done.  I looked around at the folks in blue shirts and realized that while many of them have more experience than me, I can in fact work alongside them and add value to the event.

How to Write a Tournament Report

Tournament Report encompass a wide variety of offerings. While I believe that reports are as individual as the tournaments they describe, I'm willing to share my personal formula for composing them. Please note the that voice of the writer is a crucial component in any written work.

1. Work a Tournament
Yes, I know this is obvious, but if you plan to write a tournament report afterwards, then you need to work your tournament more intentionally. Pay attention to details (and write them down!) so that when you start composing your report, they won't slip your mind. Make note of what you did, but also how you felt about it or how it impacted you. Also, make a note of what you didn't do, but wish you had. If someone says something particularly poignant, jot it down - being able to use exact words makes your writing come alive, but no one wants to be misquoted. Take the time to debrief with other judges after the event and add their reflections as well.

2. Find an Angle
If you had to summarize your day in 1 sentence, what would it be? What is the most important lesson you learned? The funniest thing that happened? The weirdest ruling? What about your day can judges learn from? What impact can your experience have on others? Pick something that stands out and write about that.

3. Tell a Story
Imagine telling a friend about your event. Start at the beginning, add details, build up to the climax, end with a conclusion. Some subplots add value, but focus on the most significant incidents. Go somewhere with what you say.

4. Curate the Details
Random facts in a vacuum are boring. Omit the irrelevant. Select only facts that will allow the reader to clearly visualize your story and support your message. Adding diagrams, dialogue, photos, or other primary sources helps bring your narrative to life.

5. End with Action
How is your report relevant to your reader? Should they try a technique or implement an idea? Can they improve on something you tried? Leave them deep in thought pondering an idea you suggested or excited to execute a new strategy at their next event.

6. Repeat
Practice makes perfect . . .
(Ok, maybe not perfect, but the more you write the better your tournament reports will become, and the more other judges can learn from them. I'm looking forward to reading your next tournament report!)

Judging with Your Spouse: Role Reversal

Prologue: This is a sequel to Judging with Your Spouse: A tournament report of sorts.

On October 29, my husband and I returned to the store where we first judged together. In April, we joined forces for his first time to Head Judge and my first PPTQ at all. This time we brought a lot more experience to the table (my 6th PPTQ to HJ), but it served as our first opportunity to swap roles.

We arrived early, just as before, greeted the now familiar staff, and checked the play area setup. I rounded up my husband Brian and our other floor judge, Vasilios Vetter. Brian has been mentoring Vasi and he's a regular at this store. While a second floor judge was not necessary, it provided an excellent mentoring opportunity. I always begin my events with a judge meeting, no matter how small the staff because it sets the expectations and tone for the day. I delivered my usual spiel including how to handle backups and appeals, tardiness times, and task assignments. Since Vasi covered deckcheks for me at a previous event, I assigned him to handle paper and put Brian on deckchecks. I spent a bit of time detailing my specific goals and expectations for each of them before releasing them to greet players while I conferred with the scorekeeper.

My HJ announcement to begin the event felt rehearsed and automatic, a sharp contrast from my previous experiences which had included butterflies and bumblings. Both of my floor judges preformed their respective duties with minimal guidance and I actually seemed superfluous for much of the day. Of course the day wouldn't be complete without a few interesting scenarios giving me some new stories to share.

At one point Brian picked up decks to check after the players had cut one another's decks. While that does not invalidate the deck check, it constitutes a better practice to swoop before the opponent has touched a deck to ensure that the order of the cards has not been manipulated in any way. I pointed out to Brian his suboptimal execution and that interaction constituted my first time correcting him on the floor. He started to argue with me, but then listened to what I had to say, and I could feel our working relationship evolving.

At the end of the first round, Brian called time by informing the only match still playing that the time had ended and directing them to begin turns. I explained to him that I preferred my judges to call time loudly to the entire room, even if only 1 match remains. Letting the other players hear that announcement cues the rest of them to wrap up their eating, finish games they are playing for fun, and get ready to move to the pairings board. That little heads up can save a few minutes as well as smoothing out the transition between rounds. I realize that I can be a devil for details, but it also demonstrated my emerging style as a Head Judge - little details can add value in big ways.

During round 2 I took a call at a table while Brian and Vasi checked decks. I concluded the call, which was the players asking me to help them resolve a stack with at least six things on it as they activated abilities and responded throughout the resolution. Then, Brian approached to let me know that he had issued a Game Loss for a Deck/Decklist Problem during his deck check. The penalty, a straightforward 59 cards registered, hadn't required any investigation. Although I had asked to be informed of GLs, Brian made the call to not interrupt me while with the players and handled the GL himself. He made the correct decision and I let him know that I appreciated both his handling the situation and moving the event along and his communication with me afterwards.

On a later call, he answered a player's question about a spell, but by pointing out that it had an Escalate option, he inadvertently gave away information to the opponent. Afterwards he immediately told me that he messed up and should have taken the question away from the table. I could see his embarrassment for making the mistake, but he quickly resolved to speak more carefully next time. Seeing him improve as a judge right before my eyes offered me a rare look into another judge's development.

My most memorable call occurred at a table where I watched a match. The adjacent match then asked me about a situation where a player wanted to activate a creature's ability in response to casting a spell that required sacrificing a creature. He planned to activate, then sac so that he would get both the ability and the spell. I explained that he could not do this since the sacrifice of the creature constituted part of the spell's cost and therefore the creature would not be around after that spell went on the stack, so he could no longer activate its ability. Both players expressed understanding of the situation. Then the opponent queried, "Isn't that a penalty?" I responded that is wasn't and play resumed. I especially did not want to penalize a player whose opponent seemed to be angling for a penalty to gain an advantage. While overall, the GRV would not have had much effect, I didn't want a player telling me how to handle a call.

Brian had been watching and told me that it should have been a penalty because the player had already done it. I stated that it wasn't because the player was asking about it and had not yet taken the action. After talking with him more, I realized that I had misunderstood the player and that he had in fact already activated the ability when I was called, but had reversed his actions before I observed the board state. After the match ended, I sought out each player and explained my mistake and clarified that it should have been a penalty. Both players graciously accepted the information and the nonactive player seemed especially appreciative.

The remainder of the day passed without incident. Players played, we judged, and the TO provided yummy sandwiches for lunch. With two competent floor judges, I had time to pull Vasi aside for a chat about state-based actions. I enjoyed the opportunity to do some mentoring and develop my own skills as well. The Top 8 moved quickly with no issues, and we finished with a debrief meeting.  In the past I've received lots of positive feedback from my floor judges about the value in taking the time to talk after the event, so it's a step I never omit. Even at the end of a long day, the chance to provide closure and honest feedback seems to be invaluable.

On the way home, Brian and I conversed about the fact that we could see each other's mistakes and learn and grow together as judges. We can encourage one another as we mature, but we also each follow our own paths within the judge program. By allowing ourselves to be vulnerable with one another we can share not only the details of various calls or techniques, but also the feelings that come with them. It adds a new dimension to both our marriage and our judge careers when the two overlap.