It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
It is the start of 7th and final round, and I am holding in my hands a shot glass that contains an unknown mixture of liquors. There are few clues to its contents, save the green olive skewered and resting on top, its bottommost side lightly marinading in the yellow green potion below.
The shot was selected not by design but by die roll—the result of a D20 cast on the long, drink laden bar of L’Adversaire pub in beautiful Montreal, where you can (apparently) get 4 random shots for $22, IF you’re willing to roll a dice for them.
And we most certainly were.
You see, some 30 minutes ago I agreed to a pact, laid out by none other than my round 7 opponent (or else his deranged associate Mr. Joel Bowers). The three of us, bound by honor, friendship (and the fact that we drove together) agreed to take a random shot if any of us should happen to meet in the final round (they even talked Mr. Brian Bogdon into joining us).
Why I ever agreed to such a pact is beyond me now.
But the clock is ticking and it is nearly time to start the games—I suck the liquor down quickly, getting notes of salt and pine. It is not unpleasant, but I am reminded that I like neither gin nor olive juice, which are near locks for the recipe of this particular shooter.
I pray only that the pints I had in rounds past will steel my nerves for what is coming next.
My opponent? None other than the man they call “Big T.”, Tristan Bates—the meanest, toughest Atog player from our side of the Quebec border. We traveled to the event together. We took a random shot to commemorate the moment. We know each other’s decklists by heart. And now it was time to do battle.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. To truly understand the scope of those epic games, you have to understand how we got there in the first place.
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Our story begins with a freshly (spray) painted and oiled Pontiac G6 departing the traffic ridden streets of Toronto at 1030am—a time delicately negotiated to allow me to get my daughter off to school, login to work for about 45 seconds, and then finish packing. I still manage to forget a playmat, despite owning 30 of them.
In the car are myself, Tristan Bates, Joel Bowers, and a playlist long enough to get us about 2 songs away from our rental in downtown Montreal. The tunes are good and the ride uneventful, save for the endless back and forth of prepubescent humour that grown men descend to on long road trips. This energy culminates in the blasting of an Enrique Iglesias track through the crowded streets of Montreal, titled “Tonight I’m ****ing you.”
And no, the blank is not love.
We disembark and quickly lay plans. We require provisions. Drinks. Food.
Much is made of the need for ice for margaritas, and we venture out into the Montreal night for this and at least a 12 pack of Miller High Lifes. Along the way we see an establishment run by someone named Wanda. While she seems like a perfectly nice lady, we carry on in search of ice.
Our adventure returns the following spoils: a bag of Sun Chips (French Onion), Sour Patch Kids, a deli sandwich, 12 Miller High Lifes and the (all-important) bag of ice.
We get back to the rental and crack some beers. It takes about an hour before Tristan realizes that we left the bag of (all-important) ice on the counter. It melts substantially in this time. 48 hours later, Tristan will find himself smashing it vigorously on the floor of the kitchen, when we finally decide to drink some margs.
Highlight 1 – Friday Night Jeopardy
Friday night winds down with a game of Jeopardy on Joel’s Nintendo switch. We played the first round earlier, with Joel taking a commanding lead on the back of a fast trigger finger, strong trivia knowledge, and me not understanding which button to push.
Heading into final Jeopardy we each share the niche topics which we’d like to see come up. Obscure punk music. Stuff about computers that Joel and Tristan understand that I could not even begin to tell you about. I boast wildly about my various English degrees, pointing out that literature is the one single category that I would own.
Inevitably, the Final Jeopardy question is about books. Joel gets it right and doubles his already leading score, a bold and probably unnecessary move given how far ahead he was.
I’d like to say I got it right too. Yeah. I’d like to say that.
Who gives a shit about Beowulf anyways.
Highlight 2 – Friday practice games against Joel’s Atogs
Our rental unit contains a single usable table for magic, and it is stationed directly beside, and in fact somewhat underneath, the kitchen counter.
We could reposition it. We could move some furniture and play a sensible game. Instead we do this:
We split the first four games at 2 a piece before starting the final match of the night. It’s a brutal affair with Lightning Bolts and Black Vises that leave me at five before stabilizing. I pick away at Joel’s mana before sticking not one but two Serra Angels. Despite Joel’s life at 17 I feel lucky, and proceed to beat down. I shrug off a Lightning bolt that leaves me at 2.
Moments before certain victory, Joel rips Time Walk into Lightning Bolt, which he points at my face. If the table were smaller I would flip it.
Saturday – The Event
We roll up to the event about 45 minutes early, see a pack of nerds with backpacks, and know we are in the right place.
The energy is high. Friends from previous events are catching up. There is discussion of decks, cards, and how many Strip Mines are too many. There is merriment and shit-talking and all the wonderful comradery that makes OS tournaments unique.
I have decided to run Spice for the event, a move I don’t normally make. But since acquiring 2 UNL Force of Natures for the deck, and noticing how much joy I got from beating people up with them, I said why not?
Of course this is not your average green deck. Gaea’s Liege was one of the first rares I opened as a kid, and I wanted to make the most competitive version of that deck possible. I learned that adding white was a huge boost on power level through testing, and while the deck wasn’t particularly good, I knew I could steal some games. A winning record would be a win for me.
I am focused, attentive in the opening games—plays are tight, I make few mistakes, every match goes to 3 games.
I promptly go 0-2.
Yup, it’s old school time.
Round 1 v Unpowered Land Tax
My opponent is an affable French gentleman named Aymeric. With a name that is uncommon in my neck of the woods, I recognize him from Discord and it takes us about 20 minutes to remember how we know each other from a sale earlier this year.
Some of the games are close, and one of the games I win on the back of Force of Nature. But the power of Land Tax proves to be too much against my ragtag army of Spiders and Angels. I lose game 3 staring at two Blood Moons, 2 Savannahs that are Mountains, and 5 very good white cards in my hand.
I also learn that Serendib Djinn is a big game.
(1-2, 0-1)
Round 2 v Atog
I find out my opponent is on Atog late in game 1. Having travelled with no fewer than 2 Atog players in my car, I know exactly how to sideboard, which makes no fucking difference whatsoever.
I lose a game 3 that felt winnable but probably wasn’t, where I try Spirit Linking my Serra Angel which eats a Psi Blast as if it were a classic Montreal poutine.
Time for a beer.
(1-2, 0-2)
Round 3 v GR Goblins
Dom is a nice guy from Montreal who starts the match by confusing the hell out of me.
The first card he plays is a Goblin Artisan. I spend a solid minute reading the card and trying to figure out what sort of artifact themed nonsense is coming my way. Then a second goblin appears, alongside some Goblin Grenades, which kill me. He is just playing goblins. I am a dope.
In one memorable game I find myself at 13 life with lethal on board courtesy of a Serra Angel (and maybe a Giant Spider). Dom heads into the tank for a minute or two before scooping, revealing a handful of goblins, grenades and bolts of lightning which are collectively a single red mana short of making me go KABOOM.
(2-1, 1-2)
Round 4 v Atog
My opponent is a very cool dude named Patrick who hails from Red Deer AB. He proposes that the winner buys a beer and I accept, being both thirsty and hungry (for a win). I can’t possibly lose.
In one memorable sequence Patrick combines 2 bolts and an Earthquake for 2 to kill my Force of Nature. I don’t recall much else from the games but that there were some tight ones in there. I may have Spirit Linked my Force Nature, which was probably pretty cool if true.
(2-1, 2-2)
Round 5 v 5C Good Stuff
My opponent is a nice guy named Paul from Boston who’s a pleasure to chat with. His first three land drops are Volcanic Island, Tropical Island, and Underground Sea, which I appreciate from playing 4C Delver back in the day.
His colour combo actually skews White as it turns out, and he runs an aggressive mix of creatures and good spells including Erhnams, Dibs, Lions and Angels. The Bottles I borrowed from Tristan (thanks Tristan!) are good in this one and I walk away with the W.
(2-1, 3-2)
Round 6 v Deadguy (BWu)
These are the best games of magic I play all day. Guillaume is a terrific player from Quebec City who loses game 1 after playing a turn 1 Juzaam Djinn that I Spirit Link immediately. Over the course of the game it drains 10 or so life from him.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that Spirit Link was a 1-of in the main.
Game 2 also involves a Juzaam with my Spirit Link on it, but is a very close affair. At one point Gaea’s Liege turns all of his lands into Forests before a stray Underground Sea manifests a Terror that ruins my fun.
Afterwards it’s a real nail biter, featuring multiple top deck battles, a well-timed balance, and a Giant Spider fending off two hippies and a Savannah lions with us both between 6 and 10 life. Gaea’s Liege finishes it off after turning all his Plains into Forests then swinging for lethal.
(2-0, 4-2)
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Round 7 v Atog
The stage was set for a contest of the ages—a pitched battle between good and evil which could vault someone from our car into the top 8.
Just imagine it. The flash, the daring, the mind-bending plays. The close back and forth of GW Creatures and URbw Atog. Angels, Anks, Atogs—every play hanging on a razor’s edge.
But that’s not what happens.
In game 2, he Demonic Tutors up a card and laughs a bit. He passes the turn while tapped out, clearly still having his tutor target in hand.
What could it be?
I should have remembered the chat Tristan and I had in the car. We were talking about Armageddon, and I remember telling him how I couldn’t beat one in a million years. This was doubly problematic insofar as a singleton Armageddon is considered “stock” amongst Toronto Atog aficionados.
He laughs and I laugh, and the Armageddon drops like a Jade Statue thrown off the side of a boat. The Armageddon doesn’t kill me exactly—but the bolted birds and Strip Mines that follow put things out of reach.
I wanted these games to be close, epiq—a story for the ages. But they were not.
I flail around for a bit then promptly die.
At least I couldn’t have lost to a nicer guy!
(0-2, 4-3)
Wrap
The tournament is over. The games were good and the spirits are high. I’m lucky enough to win a spice award for my brew and take home an amazing prize:
But as ever there is plenty to be grateful for between the games too.
I get the chance to talk to one player about making the difficult decision to sell some favourite cards to support a young family, something I may one day do. I talk to someone else about the importance of having a spouse that understands and respects the importance of magic as a hobby, and how positive and healthy it is to get time away with the boys. I talk to a third person about how prepping lobsters for 8 hours makes it really hard to shuffle magic cards, which was not a conversation I was expecting to have.
Overall it is an OS tournament much like any other—the games and drinks are good but the gathering is even better.
Shout out to Sébastien Gaudreault and the other Montreal guys for putting on an amazing event!
Richard Welch
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If you want more OS action we have an event coming up in Toronto soon! Brasslands II is happening on September 20, so click here to register today!