Ask The Judge, 12/16/2005: Feature Friday

World Championships Head Judge Report

Sheldon Menery

Those of you who are used to tuning in for my report of the great restaurants and social happenings are mostly out of luck. Who would have believed that Head Judging a World Championship was a ridiculous amount of work? Between work and fighting jet lag, I had little time for socializing—but there is more than enough to report without having to focus on what I ate.

The flight to Japan from the east coast of the US was, as you might expect, terribly long, but I slept most of the way. Although I didn't know it at the time, I was joined on the flight, two rows ahead, by young Adam Chambers, he of the sleeping-into-the-Top-4 at Pro Tour Atlanta. Youth doesn't get more disaffected.

We actually didn't see each other until we were in the customs line, when Adam confessed "I have no idea how to get to Yokohama." This is apparently the way the kids prepare for a World Championship (young Mr. Chambers finished 198th, so his training regimen is to be regarded with some caution). We picked up Canadian Judge Mark Comey, accompanied by the lovely Robin (although it was never clear if Robin is Mark's girlfriend or wife—either way, he's a lucky man) along the way, and we all shared the nearly two hour train ride from Tokyo to Yokohama.*

Once arrival and check-in happened, I popped over to the site with the intention of saying "hello, I'm here, now I'm getting some sleep." Unfortunately, I ran into Messrs. Larabee, Scott and Foster, Ron who invited me into the Nipponese evening for strong drink. How could I refuse? The best part of it all was being barned by our own Ted Knutson (and fortunately, it must be said, because I never get to see my young brother, who has supplanted James Brown as The Hardest Working Man in Show Business), who completely blew off drafting with BDM and others in order to drink The Black Dragon with us.

At the (place I assume is called a restaurant), Foster-san ordered food that was mostly devoid of tentacles and eyeballs. The wasabi octopus (polpo for those of you keeping track of my progress with the Italian lessons) was actually very tasty and paired nicely with the aforemention Black Dragon sake.

I don't want to complain that once the event started all the work was hard (some of it was pretty difficult), it's just that it's time-consuming wrangling 30-odd judges, an event, certification testing, peer reviews, and whatnot. Standard Day actually went rather smoothly, although we could have done a better job of turning over the rounds.

Wednesday was also the last time I felt like I had any time to breathe. At Judge Coordinator Andy Heckt's behest, Level 4 Judge John Shannon organized a Judge-only Legacy tournament. I didn't bring along a deck, but Collin Jackson had and decided not to play, so I played his (a Madness thing). I won the first round, but had to concede in round 2, because I had a dinner meeting with Andy and the high-level gang, and the restaurants were already closing (for as busy a place as it is during the day, Japan shuts down early). I vaguely remember the Korean barbecue before trying (unsuccessfully) to get some shut-eye—from 4am to the time my alarm went off, I read a good deal of George RR Martin's lastest, "A Feast for Crows."

Draft day was when things got a bit more interesting. Early in the draft, keen-eyed Argentian judge (and smokin' bass-player) Damián Hiller pulled me aside. He had observed a player peeking during the draft. When I told him to make sure, he said that he already had. As he was walking behind the player, and saw him subtly craning his neck to the left. Damián removed himself to a discreet distance an watched the player for the remainder of that pack and the next. The player continued peeking at both the cards drafted left and right.

I instructed Damián to have the player continue drafting (this maintains the integrity of the draft) and then hold him aside as everyone else went to build their decks. We told him we had caught him peeking, and he gave the lamest excuse ever: "If I was peeking, I wouldn't have drafted this pile!" There was actually nothing the player could say at this point to change my mind; we had watched him hang himself. The rest was a formality, and making an effort to protect the rights of the player.

In the end, he refused to give a statement. This is officially bad. Contrary to common belief, disqualification does not automatically result in suspension. The statement is where you get to tell your side of the story, especially if there are mitigating circumstances (like the inability to keep your eyes off your opponents' cards, I guess). The penalty committee reads the statements of the players, as well as the statements of the other involved parties, before rendering a decision. If the accused has refused to tell his side, the committee has nothing else to go on but the story of the Judge. So in summary, don't cheat—but if you do, beg for forgiveness in writing.

Cheatyface number two happened on Extended Day (Friday), and was chaos in the midst of chaos. One of challenges of running the World Championships is that there are players from more countries, speaking more different languages, than there are at a Pro Tour. There are players who have made national teams who haven't previously played at the highest levels. Radically different communication and play skills can lead to a mess—like the one we encountered.

In the middle of handling what was literally the fourth appeal to the Head Judge on the stack (note that we resolve those First In, First Out, contrary to the Comprehensive Rules), I was called over by a Judge who told me that a spectator (actually a member of the Press core) had observed a player cheating by intentionally making a second land drop on his turn. When I asked him why he thought it was intentional, he said that it was because he obscured the first land drop.

From the spectator's statement, the player had five lands in play. His opponent was playing Mana Leak and Force Spike, so extra mana was significant. The player announced a five-mana spell, tapped four lands, then dropped a fifth land, tapped, from his hand, partially obscured from his opponent by the remainder of his hand. There were additional spells played in the turn, during which the second land was played.

I began the interview process by engaging translators, since neither player had a decent command of English—nor I of their languages. During the interview, it became my understanding that the additional land had gotten into play by the resolution of Sakura Tribe Elder. Through the translators (one of whose English is excellent, the other whose needs improvement), this seemed to be agreed upon by the players, so we chalked it up to a misunderstanding and moved on.

I engaged the spectator and told him that since both players' accounts had differed from his, that I would have to trust them (not that I didn't trust what he believes he saw). After the match, however, the opponent came to me and asked why the player hadn't received a penalty for dropping the extra land. I responded that we had agreed that there wasn't a second land drop. He emphatically replied "no!" I realized that we had had some misunderstanding. At this point, I had someone fetch a different translator, whose English is nearly perfect.

It became clear that the story we thought we had gotten from the players, primarily the player dropping the land, was not accurate. There was no resolution of Sakura Tribe Elder; the Elder was the second spell that the player had played that turn. In recreating the story separately with both the opponent and the spectator, I came to the conclusion that the spectator's account was indeed accurate, since (independently, with a more clear translation), the opponent's account agreed with it.

I had someone bring the player in question back for another interview. He could not adequately explain a) why he had not given an accurate account of the events or b) how two lands got into play on one turn. After consultation with Scott Larabee, and the inputs of other high-level Judges, I decided that the actions of the player in a) intentionally making the obscured land drop in order to play a second during the turn and b) intentionally making misleading statements during the interview were sufficient grounds for disqualification.

Again, all principal parties were instructed on making written statements. The player in question resisted even after repeated suggestions from both me (in English) and the translator (in his native language). Eventually he relented and gave his version of events.

Saturday was far more quiet for me, since I turned over Head Judging duties to Collin Jackson. Worlds is a pressure cooker for both players and Judges; a little time out of the command chair let me recharge for Sunday—and boy, did I ever need it. I spent most of the day doing promotion interviews. Congrats to Christian Gawrilowicz of Austria for passing for Level 3 and mio fratello Riccardo Tessitori for making Level 4 in the interviews that I sat in on. Congratulations are also in order for Mark Comey (who, by the way, came to Japan on vacation and stopped by just for his L3 interview), Alex Yatsenko, Lindsay Heming, and Cristiana Dionisio for all passing their L3 interviews. Saturday also featured the Judge dinner. The meal was forgettable, but the company was outstanding, as always. It's great to get the Judges to stop being Judges for a while and let them be people. It was probably amusing watching nearly 40 people gaggle their way across Yokohama to get from the hotel to the restaurant; I swear at one point we were stretched out half a mile, a crazy, lazy, not-paying-attention-to-where-it-was going train.

Sunday dawned bright and fresh. I had finally gotten over the jet lag and slept nearly the entire night. I had already provided both Top 8 and other assignments to the Judges, and I was in the backstage area by 8 am, practicing to hand the awards ceremonies trophies to Dr. Garfield.

I had decided to go back to the old way of doing things for the Top 8—namely, having two table Judges instead of one. In the ancient days, there were two Judges on Top 8 matches, but the ESPN cameras hadn't liked all the stripes, so the producers insisted we cut one. One became the habit, and it occurred to me that it didn't have to be that way.

Nonetheless, we missed one in the finals. If you follow Magic and weren't on Pluto for the last six months, you know this already.

In fact, everybody missed it. The two players, the two table Judges, the spotter (also a Judge), and the reporters. From my position off stage, I didn't even see the play happen. I've heard lots of people ask why I (as the HJ) wasn't watching the match myself. The answer is simply that the HJ has more than one thing to do, even with the Finals going on, and there are other qualified Judges available. The Judges who were on the match had and still have my complete confidence.

The cards in question were Yosei, the Morning Star, and Seedborn Muse. Mr. Mori had resolved a Yosei-triggered ability targeting Mr. Karsten, and then played Seedborn Muse. Then, on Mr. Karsten's turn, Mr. Mori untapped, although he shouldn't have. Seedborn Muse modifies what happens during the Untap Step, and of course, Yosei had caused Mr. Karsten to skip his Untap.

This was late in game 2, which Mr. Mori won. I was made aware of the oversight as the players were shuffling for game 4. We decided to take whatever time we needed to fully investigate the situation—and there are only two viable solutions to this kind of situation: Disqualification for intentionally misrepresenting the game state or a Warning for Procedural Error. Although the forums were rife with suggestions on how to handle this situation, we'd already decide how to handle it—and well before the World Championships ever started. We don't make up penalties on the spot; we have a document called the DCI Penalty Guidelines on which we've spent many hours of work and consideration on how to handle the situations that inevitably arise during competetive Magic games—and this one was right out of the book.

The thing that I wanted to make sure of was that Mr. Mori didn't intentionally misrepresent the game state. I had the advantage of reviewing the camera feed to see if any thing was said, any gesture was made to indicate that Mr. Mori reminded Mr. Karsten to stay locked down while himself untapping. When I interviewed Mr. Mori, I asked if he said anything to Mr. Karsten. He only said "Frank knows" (implying that he knows how Yosei works).

With the clear picture that no sketchiness happened, a Warning was issued and we moved on. There was absolutely no other way to handle the situation.

I did have time Sunday for a bit of hanging out; I think there were a dozen or so of us that found a restaurant still serving—with all the wrap-up, it was past 8 pm by the time we were done (and I'm sure I still missed saying good-bye to some folks).

As I write, it's been ten days since I got home, and I'm still suffering from jet lag. If someone could do me the favor of inventing a teleportation device before the next event on the other side of the world, I'd be eternally grateful.

Many thanks to the entire staff of Judges whose hard work meant a difficult week was a little less stressful and went by more or less smoothly. Additional thanks to Ted and Seamus for having me back on Feature Friday.

See you around.

Sheldon

* I have special things planned for whomever chose Yokohama for this event. A shuttle or taxi ride from the airport is one thing, but 2 freakin' hours after being in the air for 15? WTF? I sure hope it wasn't you, Larabee.