My journey begins not on the road to Montreal but in a west-end Toronto hockey rink that goes by the name of Bill Bolton.
It is June the 4th, one week before TWC. It happens to be my birthday, and I am in the first class of Adult Hockey Skills, where middle-aged men like me learn to play hockey so we can play with (ie. lose to) our kids some day.
I’m having a great time. Or at least I was, until about 45 minutes in, when I throw out my back during a routine passing drill.
I will spare you the distressing details lest I aggravate an old injury of yours, dear reader—but after one hour of failing to remove my own skates I am worried the TWC may not be in the cards for me. Even worse, I was starting to get very cold.
But fear not! Our story does not end there. While my companions would have to put up with endless moaning and whining on the part of this author, and wait for outrageous stretches of time while I basically air crawled out of the van during road stops—no amount of inconvenience and difficulty, either for me or for the poor suckers I travelled with, would stop me from getting to this year’s TWC.
So sit back, relax (maybe stretch a little if you’ve been sitting for a while), and enjoy my tale of Tundra Wolves Challenge 9.
The Van
The first thing we should talk about is the van.
This magnificent vehicle would be our home for the ride there and back. I’d heard legends of it from bar nights but seeing it with my own eyes was something else entirely.
It isn’t just the colour (a very fine maroon, or maybe burgandy?). Nor is it the stickers detailing where our driver (Cameron) and his family have been camping. Nor is it even the DVD player and pull-down screen available to those sitting in the back. No. It is no one of these things alone. But taken together there is something wholesome, something magical, something auspicious about this veritable good vibe bandwagon.
And in a subtle nod to our youth as children of the 90s, we took the van road trip of the year from Toronto all the way to la belle province.
The Trip
The real focal point of our magic road trips is the playlist. This year’s version was built by Joel, Cam and Tristan (with input from Eric), and it was great (you can even check it out here).
There’s some rock and some punk and some hip hop. There’s some pop. And we’re all having a great time cruising down the highway, listening to some tunes.
But then, out of nowhere, “Kokomo” from the Beach Boys hits like a tab of acid and we are washed in some indescribably potent 80s vibes, the kind that make you lean back in your seat a little bit and maybe give the guy beside a dreamy (but not at all romantic) smile—it is like the van is trying to tell us stories of road trips past, in the 80s, from Vancouver to Halifax, stories about how it isn’t the destination that matters but the journey itself, and how you get there, and who you meet along the way, and…
…and fortunately the acid trip is metaphorical and short-lived. The van is not talking to me, and we go back to what passes for normal conversation when Kokomo ends.
We spend some quality time mocking AI, and pointing out how stupid CEOs are for using it to do shit jobs of things they are already paying real people to do. How it isn’t good at very much, how we are so much smarter (etc.). We talk about silly space stocks. About politics, work, our decks.
Aside from this it is mostly dick jokes. Or sometimes jokes about things that are done with dicks, or perhaps done to dicks. Some creative souls sneak in jokes about vaginas but they are hard to land in this crowd.
This may have had something to do with the playlist, which features a track called “God’s Dick.” I leave it to the reader to decide.
Friday Night – After Arrival
After a slow and grasping exit from the car in which my back declares that movement is not a thing it is interested in, we go up a flight of stairs and find a spacious unit that has an enormous kitchen table that is basically tailor-made for games of magic.
The problem of course is that it is situated EXACTLY in the middle of the kitchen, such that you would have to perform some serious acrobatics in order to say, open the freezer or the oven without shuffling this big, big (like BIG) table a foot in one direction or another.
A handful of boys head out for beer and a few of us stay. Eric is deciding whether to play Bazaar Zoo or Aggro-the-Deck until Chris and I put an absolute bullying on his Zoo build. He goes 0-7 that and that pretty much makes his deck choice for him.
I play one heck of a game against Chris where I Ancestral Recall and hit consecutive times with a Hypnotic Spectre, except he manages to stabilize after Psi-Blasting the Hippy. Later I have him under a rack at low life, but somehow can’t draw a second black source to cast the Hymn to Tourach that would kill him. He keeps three in hand and plays trikes off the top until I die.
When the guys get back we chug a beer and get ready for dinner—which in my case involves changing out of a tank top and into a LobsterCon ’24 shirt, which is just on this side of acceptable for the restaurant we will be going to.
In a strange twist of fate Joel has used the exact same AI applications that he mocked earlier in order to help us find a dinner reservation. His criteria are simple, well thought out—give me restaurants that are good, fancy but not too fancy, and serve quality vegetarian fare. Impossible to fuck up really.
It provides a shining recommendation for a lovely restaurant some 15 minutes away, and after calling a very large and comfortable Uber we arrive in a place which is indeed fancy but not too fancy. It is then that we glance down at the menu—steak frites, tartare, oysters, pesto and pancetta raviolis—and realize there is not one fucking vegetarian item.
Did we check the menu online before reserving? Yeah we did. Did it have some reasonable vegetable options on there? Sure did. Can we really blame the AI for making the same mistakes we did?
Our graceful vegetable eater orders the ravioli without the pancetta and we have a fine meal.
But I still say fuck those robots.
Friday night – The Marg Maneuver
Another time honoured Toronto MTG road trip tradition is the margarita.
It’s sacred really. A handful of simple ingredients, mixed well, and served up to thirsty boys who appreciate a finely mixed drink.
Maybe that’s why Joel got in such a tizzy when big T. wanted to serve it from a bowl with a ladle like it was some kind of 50/50 vodka punch at an undergrad party.
You see our rental forgot to include a pitcher of any sort, or actually anything that even resembled a pitcher. Meaning our options for making margs came down to either a coffee pot or a punch bowl. Joel was pro coffee pot, T. was feeling very strongly about bowl.
For the record, I think T. was right because the punch bowl produced some excellent margs—though these guys could make 8/10 margs with a shot glass, a cookie sheet, 2 spoons and an SP+ shoe.
Friday night – Bicycle Cube
Vintage cube is all the rage these days. Not for us. We prefer bicycle cube:
This is the best round of Euchre I can remember in a long-time. Chris and I are partners, and when he tells a story about his (probably grumpy) grandpa who always said “don’t send a boy to do a man’s job” when trumping a trick, I know we are in a good spot.
So good in fact that we slam game one, like 10-2 or maybe 10-3. They are struggling to make anything and getting Euchred every time they try.
Game 2 starts out much the same but takes a sudden turn. We’re up 9-5 after they claw back from a slow start and then stick a loner hand to tie it at 9 a piece.
There is plenty of boasting, sure. But for the first time that evening I am genuinely feeling some very small scale nerves that we might not get this one.
I needn’t have worried. Joel Bowers? More like Joel “ain’t got no” Bowers.
Saturday – Game Time
Big brain Joel orders coffees and breakfast sandwiches and we are off in a flash for TWC.
The venue is great and they even have coffee and croissants. Some ambitious souls order an 11am beer and we catch up with some old friends while the event gets under way.
I for one am ready for games!
The Deck
I’m on RBU Troll Discard, very similar to the list I ran for Chaos Con 4 last year. It’s a midrange good stuff build with some very nice non-creature damage output in the rack. I also get to play Gwendalyn and Sol’Kanar which is pretty sweet.
Round 1 – Ray on GBu Midrange
I know when I get the pairing that Ray is gonna be a tough out. I keep an opener with two shatters that will have some upside if Ray is on shops. When he goes T1 Llanowar Elves I am at something of a loss.
He blows up about half of my lands and sticks an Erhnam and Derelor that I’m forced to fend off. Sedge Troll does a good job for a bit, but I don’t have enough black sources to regenerate and Hymn at the same time, and they eventually get me.
Game 2 is pretty one sided for me and then we play the rubber match. In the last one I cast a T2 time Walk into double-strip mine which sends him back to the stone age, but without gas to follow it up he eventually gets up to 4 mana and sticks an Ehrnnm which stomps as if I were grass. GGs
(1-2, 0-1)
Round 2 – Meg on Mono G Enchantress
Meg is a swell opponent who comes all the way from Connecticut and actually works for the Lego company if you can believe it (very cool).
We get to talking and Meg has a little girl around the same age as mine and—as often happens—we figure out we have more in common than our spell-slinging abilities.
The games themselves are tough, but not for me, thank goodness. In G1 a quick Hypnotic Specter does a lot of work, and in G2 I produce a Mind Twist for 5 on turn 2 😐 We play a third one where her Enchantress Engine really goes off and I get eaten alive by a Rabid Wombat that is very, very big. Omp Chomp.
(2-1, 1-1)
Round 3 – Ed (not Fred, per Melee) Troll
This is a near-mirror that gives us some interesting games. I somehow beat a T1 library in game 1 after slamming a Sol’Kanar that just barely gets it done against his full grip to my zero cards in hand.
In games 2 and 3 there are some close moments but there are always too many Derelors and Mishra’s Factories and I am buck short and a minute late to every key interaction.
Welcome to the beer bracket.
(1-2, 1-2)
Round 4 – Sébastien (Atog)
For those who may not know, we actually had an L3 judge for this event. He was a great guy and very helpful, though I’m not used to having judge staff at OS events.
As an L3 I’m sure he has seen and done it all—high stakes calls for t8s at GPs….keeping rounds tight and keeping play honest in highly competitive environments. RCQs. Maybe the hecking PT for all I know.
And yet I am also certain he found himself doing something he has never done before in his whole judging career at the start of R4—announcing that there would be a 5-minute delay so they could change the keg of Mexican Cerzeva.
Which is exactly why I’m late sitting down for this one.
Sébastien is a nice opponent and I learn he is coming to Toronto in August to watch some band called “Grapefruit” (which I know because my French is EXCELLENT). Game 1 is slow as heck as my opponent can’t top deck a darn thing while he dies to Rack + Disrupting Sceptre.
G2 is another enjoyable one for me as I stick Sol’Kanar again, this time on T2 off a lotus, which goes the whole way.
(2-0, 2-2)
Round 5 – Louis (Troll Disco)
I sit down across from Louis from Ottawa and it becomes clear I am in another mirror pretty quickly.
In G1 stick Sol’Kanar (again!!) and I think about stripping his 5th land, but decide it’s better to save for a factory or maze or something important. Well doesn’t he hit a land drop and Fireball my King of the swamps for 5 😐
I lose game 2 to a board stall that gets broken by his Sengir Vampires and Hippies. Vampires are just too good in this mirror and I lose a close 3
(1-2, 2-3)
Round 6 – Martin (UG Pump)
Martin calls Trois-Rivières home and while I have never been there it sounds like a nice place.
My opponent tries to figure out if we’ll be speaking English or French in this one and I must sadly inform him that my French is a few steps below what a 4-year-old might accomplish in a similar situation.
This is a nightmare matchup for his dudes + giant growth, unstable mutation plan thanks to my mazes, bolts, terrors and Sedge Trolls. I pick up a pretty clean 2-0 in this one.
(2-0, 3-3)
Round 7 – ??? (Mono Black)
Things are starting to look up after looking down, and I’m looking to move to positive for the fist time.
I’ll be honest this one is a bit fuzzy. Maybe it’s the beers or the fact I haven’t eaten dinner, but these games aren’t particularly clear.
I win G1 and am feeling pretty good about my odds. But I lose a close game 3 to the exact kind of magic I am trying to inflict on others – discard, racks and beatdown.
(1-2, 3-4)
Round 8 – Eric, Wasted Travel (Atog)
My best round of the day would turn out to be the last, and not because of the games (which were also pretty good tbh).
Eric starts by talking a bit about himself, and how his Melee moniker got to be “Wasted Travel”. As it turns out, he used to travel for some vintage events, win a moxes and such, and people in his car always flamed out with one or two folks MAYBE getting into prize. It was always a story of wasted travel: at least, from the perspective of the games.
Nonetheless, we play our games and I ask him about who he used to waste travel with. He’s from Ottawa so I mention that I know Ray, who would have certainly played some vintage back in the day. From there we find 2,3…8 odd people that we both know in common, many of whom I haven’t heard of in years. Lam Phan who beat the tar out of me in Legacy until I started playing broken Miracles Decks. Rene Villenueve, who introduced me to Zoo in the 90s. A whole cast of local MTG characters and history that me and this man shared. To have the opportunity to talk about those memories, those people with someone who knew them, was really special.
And as a bonus I even beat him up pretty good. G2 he Wheels out of desperation and while the game goes on for a bit with him at 3, I get a blue blast for blockers and kill him with a troll.
Saturday – Post Event
The top 8 is announced and while Toronto doesn’t do so well, our two adopted pals from Kitchener (Chris and Brian) smash the T4. In celebration, we decide to pile some more food and drink on top of what we’ve already had at a nice little place recommended by Francois (thanks Francois!).
It’s foolish, excessive, and absolutely the right call.
We even get the company of some very fine magicians from Vancouver. I forget the name of the bar, but it is the spiritual relative of a classic Toronto eatery called the Lakeview—so much so that multiple Torontonians come to this conclusion on their own.
The food is deece, the spirits are high. And the conversations are loud—obtrusively so.
Did you know that sometimes, there can be funny conversations between friends that you would probably not want other people listen to? Not because there’s anything bad in there necessarily, but because without the right context, it seems a lot worse than it is?
Well I don’t want to paint with too broad a brush, but it almost seemed like those sorts of conversations, that rational men might avoid in public spaces, were exactly the kinds of conversations that some of our party were looking to have.
I don’t want to name names, but if I were a teacher, and Joel and Tristan were my students, I would separate them at opposite ends of the table, the classroom, the school district if I could.
After eating we do a quick chat and check-in on a couple folks we haven’t seen out to games in a while. “What’s so and so up to, haven’t seen him in a while”. We share any knowledge or wisdom which we might have, which doesn’t amount to much.
But it occurs to me, in a real powerful way, that this same group of guys would do the same for me if I hadn’t been showing up for awhile. Maybe I’m going through some shit at work, maybe I’m having trouble at home—but there would be this group of guys exchanging notes and seeing if there was something they might do. Because we’re friends. Because we’re all in this together—and there is nothing like the feeling of support and care that comes from the casual, almost accidental friendships you form in this game.
Then I hear a story about an Old Schooler making a trip down to Boston, the same kind of trip some guys do to Toronto for work or whatever. This guy gets in touch with the local OS club in Boston and all of a sudden he’s got pints and games lined up, even a pickup from the airport because these guys know each other from an OS event.
And I realize that we are all part of this awesome group of people, from all over the world, who are always down to host a traveller and jam some games.
I don’t want to say Old School is the only community this happens in because it isn’t. But this is the community that I’ve found, and it’s with a whole pile of great people that actually care about each other and are just looking for an excuse to have a good, wholesome, drink-laden time that feels the way an Alanis Morrissette song sounds.
And if you ask me that is pretty fucking cool.