When six months ago he conspiratorially suggested to me, “Maybe you’ll head judge the next one for me” I believed him. So getting the phone call from the out of region head judge asking if he could crash at my house came as a bit of a shock to me. The head judge he selected is better than me. He’ll do an awesome job. He’s my friend. I’m happy that he’ll be in town. The head judge even said that it felt weird to ‘apply against a friend.’ Wow. I’m honored that he calls me friend. We spent some time chatting about the event and I’m still excited to work it as a floor judge. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.
When I applied to the out of region event, ate the massive travel costs associated with mis-booking my flights, drove through the night, and showed up to work on time despite the difficulties, telling myself, ‘I am a professional.’ I arrived only to be asked to work an extended shift. I worked my buns off that weekend and loved every minute of it. While speaking to the judge manager he commented on his surprise that I applied. I replied, “You asked me to.” He didn’t remember. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.
When he told me last year that next year he hopes to ‘give the whole thing to [me],’ I got excited. The plans percolating in my mind quickly cooled when someone else ran the show and the staff didn’t include me. I went as a player, and had a great time. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.
When I asked him two years ago to write me an L3 Rec, he told me that those take time and a lot of work, but that he would put me on his list. I eagerly agreed. I’ve worked his events, talked with him about everything, trusted his advice, and taken risks believing him to be in my corner. He’s implied numerous times that the end goal is my L3. So when I told him this month that I was planning to formally request the Rec around the end of the year, it stung when he said he would prefer not to write it. His reasons made sense and I believe his choice to be legitimately in my best interests. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.
When he told me he planned to pass RC to me, I felt a surge of adrenaline I can’t explain. An odd feeling of legitimacy, like someone saying that the work I’m doing has value and truly matters. I never aspired to be an RC, but it does seem to be a good fit. From people I barely know to mentors with whom I work closely I get asked about it. I have always answered that I believe our current RC is doing a fine job and that I trust him completely. So only a month after that revelation when he stated that he’s decided to consider another path of succession for RC, it felt like a dagger to my soul. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.
Despite each disappointment, I’ve kept working hard, kept pushing, kept grinding, and ignored the hurt, the loss, and the sadness. Tuned out the doubters, the gatekeepers, and the ones who would use me for their own gain. Instead I kept believing that I could work harder, do more, and be better. Kept believing in the next opportunity. Maybe naive, but I still believe.
You see, at this point in my judge career I know how it goes:
Something inside you breaks.
It's just not worth it anymore. No matter what you do, you just can't get a foothold in this community. Most of your successes are met with scrutiny and doubt. You've been judging Magic for two years and still regularly get asked if you are a new judge. You complete your tasks just fine on your own but the men at the event insist on giving you unsolicited tips – assuming that you need them. An uncomfortable amount of other judges still react awkwardly to working with you. When you started working sanctioned events, you rationalized it all away by saying, “It's just because I'm new.” But you're not new anymore. And the same shit keeps happening no matter how much you try to blend in and be accepted as a real judge.
You still love judging Magic. But after all this time, the small interactions have taken their toll and you finally conclude, “Maybe judging Magic tournaments isn't for me.”
I’m not there yet, but I know that someday I will be.
