Take Two: Part I --- Discovering MTG

At some point in the late 1990’s (I can’t remember exactly when) I was sifting through various cable channels desperately looking for something to give me an excuse to blow off my upcoming paper on Civil War infantry assault tactics and the advent of the rifled musket.  I was about ready to give up in disgust when the flickering light settled on ESPN6 or some such thing.

On screen, two warriors, each looking like the older brother from The Wonder Years, proceeded to lay down cards, turn them sideways, and then lay down more cards with fanciful names.  Sometimes, they would turn those sideways and sometimes they would drop them into what looked to be a discard pile.  Mostly, however, they glared at each other like two spouses engaging in their 45^th debate regarding toilet seat etiquette.

Excited commentators, speaking what seemed to be Hindi, prophesized the meaning of these activities as the two young men playing tried their damndest to look more and more like The Wonder Years brother. 

Shortly before, I was about ready to quit my search for diversion and focus on my paper; and after seeing this remarkable game, I did just that.

This, my friends, was my initial exposure to MTG.  The impression that it left on me can best be summed up as “What the #$@& was that?”

For years, the memory lay dormant, tossed upon my mind’s internal trash heap along with such gems as “my first Schlitz” and “I wonder if Chelsea Clinton will be hot someday.”

In late summer 2000, a guy with whom I worked noticed my affinity for fantasy games (I was a huge Baldur’s Gate/Torment guy) and suggested that I join him for a game of Magic.  As he described it to me it instantly registered that he meant me to play the game made famous by Wayne Arnold on ESPN8 a few years prior.  This cat had steered me right when it came to Everquest so I figured, “what the hell?” 

Using some pre-constructed decks, I played enough games to learn the mechanics and some rudimentary strategy.  I found the rules intuitive for the most part and enjoyed the variation.  Each game had a unique ebb and flow.  The cards had great diversity in both function and artwork.  Enjoyably, each color had a specific flavor that imparted a distinctive personality to the game and player.

Sure there was some luck involved, but such a flaw gives hope to new or marginal players and cannot be viewed as a detriment to the game.  Hell if it was 100% skill and experience then it would be like chess.  Don’t get me wrong, I love me some chess, but I have no interest in letting Gary Kasparov or some other Soviet beat me like a circus monkey every time I push wood.  If I knew certain defeat awaited me at the hands of some grandmaster every time a tournament was held, it would dissuade me from wasting my coin.  A little luck evens the playing field.

Simply said, it was fun, but something didn’t seem quite right.  It wasn’t rocket science but I still seemed to be crappy.  Not just regular crappy, but super crappy.  Crappy like whatever one-legged teams Nebraska schedules for non-conference games every year.  In short order, I began to despair.  It was at that point where my future hung in the balance, teetering precipitously on the edge of a great chasm.  I could quit now and return exclusively to my 39^th level Cleric online, or I could take an unlikely (if not outright crazy) step toward glory.  Reaching deep down inside, summoning up all of my strength, I said, “Dude, let me play with the green deck.”

The rest, as they say, is history.

In the next installment, The Fryguy is taught the art of deck building for draft and sealed deck.  It doesn’t go that well...