Rami Abdo, L1, Cyprus
I would like to share with you an honest (and somewhat humiliating) account of my very first ever experience head judging a competitive level event. In my case it was the Starcitygames Invitational qualifier in MTGCyprus, an opportunity graciously provided to me by the MTGCyprus Team.
Although I assisted in judging competitive events before, this would be my first time ever being head judge of one. Thus it was with a slight hint of apprehension that I walked in to the store early that morning, unsure of what to expect. I had certainly done my homework, having read and reread the IPG (Infraction procedure guide) and the Tournament rules countless times over, until every time I blinked I would see flashes of what looked like legal text etched into my eyeballs. Since the magic community in Cyprus is rather close knit, I steeled myself with the possibility that I might have to penalize someone I knew. I hoped that they would be gentle and understanding enough to my plight, rather than curse me to a thousand years of hellfire in Griselbrand’s domain.
The players slowly filtered in and I took part in some idle chitchat over their deck choices for this standard event. It was at this point that my judge’s duties were first called upon. Sleeve checks. After a couple of players asked me to pore over their sleeves, I realized what a great idea it was to do so, a sort of preemptive strike in order to save any embarrassment later. If there’s time, it’s worth doing so. I ended up requesting a couple of players to change their sleeves and gave other similar advice, such as making sure all the cards in the deck were facing the same way.
The TO began the tournament with some announcements and I stood proudly next to him, hands clasped behind my back and feet firmly on the ground. I remembered thinking how important it was to display myself as a magnificent figure of confidence and trust to my peers, a proud statue of respect and power that will preside over any injustice with an iron hand and sturdy resolve. However, in typically fickle fashion, all that bravado and confidence were tossed out the window when I heard the next words: “I will now pass you on to our head judge Rami“.
With a rusty creak the gears of my brain slowly began to turn, and something finally clicked in place. I pulled myself together. This was another game, plain and simple. I was giving it a lot of importance, but in the end it was still just a bunch of friends and magic enthusiasts getting together to enjoy their hobby with some healthy competitive fun. That was something I should never forget. So I summoned the spirits of gut instincts and made some announcements; number of players, rounds, time limits, and so on. I was sure I had missed a few things but I didn’t mind. I was bound to make more mistakes by the end of the day. It was all part of the learning curve.
During the first round I scanned the decklists as carefully as I could. One list with sixty four cards caught my eye, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. My original plan was to do random deck checks, but I scrapped that and decided to pick this one out specifically. So it was when the second round started I tried to be as incongruous as possible, hovering above all the matches as casually as a phelddagrif browsing a china shop. But using my superior peripheral vision I ensured my target was in sight at all times. As soon as he presented his deck to his opponent I pounced mercilessly upon my prey. Well actually it was a very polite request to halt the game while I kidnapped their decks for ten minutes. But that’s how it felt on the inside.
Ninjutsu activation!
Seven minutes into the deck check and I still couldn’t see it. His list was sixty four cards but his deck was sixty. Yet it looked all in order. I decided to go old school and just tick off every card until I found the culprits. In the eleventh hour it was finally clear. Four Madcap Skills were written twice; an honest mistake from a rushed list. I felt bad. I double checked the IPG but I knew deep in my heart that it had to be done… my first ever issuing of a game loss. I gave them back their decks and explained what I had to do. I was so grave in my news that I might as well have been telling him his cat died. His shrug and unconcerned acceptance of his game loss made me realize that I was taking it worse than he was. It wasn’t such a big deal after all. It happens. I let out a huge sigh of relief.
In the final swiss round I was called to a table by an observer having witnessed a game rule violation. With a quick scan of the field I noticed there was indeed an Elspeth, Sun’s Champion down but only one source of white mana. After a quick inquiry as to what point of the game it was (it was the opponents first main phase), I made my executive decision. The game state was still intact enough to back up to the point when Elspeth was cast. I warned the offending player to be more careful, who was sincerely apologetic in his mistake, and instructed them to play on. It was all done by the book and wrapped up very neatly. I felt a warm soothing glow surge through me.
I like it when a plan comes together.
They cut to top eight and I told myself I would do another deck check, and do it randomly this time. I picked a table with my trusty dice of destiny, and at the start of their second game I swooped in to accost their decks. As I went through their cards it dawned on me what was about to transgress. I had picked two control decks, their lists were twice as long as any other, and there was no time limit in the rounds anymore. Perhaps I had offended the dice of destiny and they were punishing me for my past sins. I rushed the deck check so I could get them back to their game, but it didn’t help much. Over an hour later and they were finally done countering each other’s counters, much to the annoyance of other players and onlookers. Learning curve.
The rest of the tournament carried on without a hitch and all of a sudden it was over. As the dust settled and I held my well earned compensation in my hands, I reflected back on my misgivings of the day. I should have done more research on what was required of a head judge. I had assumed I would just show up, do a couple of deck checks, make a few rulings and walk away with my boosters. But it’s a lot more than that, and rightly so. There are announcements to be made, score-keeping duties, deck-list documentation, and many other responsibilities that keep you busy at all times. I had chosen the wrong decks to check and unnecessarily prolonged the tournament. Thankfully I had the wise tutelage of my mentors to guide me and the pleasantly forgiving nature of the community to ease my rite of passage into this start of a wonderful journey. I had made a few mistakes and I would diligently learn from them. I would probably make many more in my long standing adventure and rise to Judge Emeritus (one can only dream).
Hopefully an aspiring judge might read this article one day and be consoled with the fact that we are all in the same boat here. Judging may be complex and socially demanding, but its rewards are undoubtedly worth it. Observing the satisfied faces of dozens of players who felt safe in my net of justice is a unique and irreplaceable sensation. It gives me great pride knowing that I am ushering our ever growing magic community into new frontiers of gaming. To that aspiring judge I would say: Do your research, think before you speak, and most significantly of all, don’t put your trust in evil dice!