Pro Tour Hollywood, as you may imagine, was a fantastic experience for me. I reaffirmed my long-held belief that wherever you are in the program, there's a path to self-improvement, if you're willing to look for it and face what can be, at times, daunting challenges. By 5 PM on Sunday, when I changed out of my stripes, it was clear to me that I have Areas For Improvement that are as clear to me as at any point in my judging career.

I've been present, now, for three announcements (in the current system) of promotions to L4 and one to L5. I remember the others (two for Toby Elliot and one for Jason Ness) clearly: they are electric, inspiring moments. It's not a surprise to me that I would be thrilled to see Toby promoted; we have worked closely together at many events, and he has been one of my strongest mentors. But Jason Ness, while clearly a good guy, was not someone I had worked with much--I believe it was only the third or fourth time we'd met. Why would I--why would the rest of the room, there in Baltimore--take such pleasure in the success of someone we hardly know?

I believe that the answer is this: we thrill because their victory is our victory. We are all responsible for our successes. This one of the many reasons that the judge program is strong, and special. It is not just my mentors, or my close friends, or the judges I work with most often, but the whole community that has shaped me as a judge and helped me conquer the challenges of the last five years.

I became a judge for several reasons. I liked the idea of working for cards. I hadn't been back in the game for very long, and I was drafting once or twice a week, but I didn't have many cards. I attended my first prerelease (Judgment) and it was the first time I played with more than twenty players. Who were these people in funny shirts? They seemed so knowledgeable. I learned that there was a test, and I think that was pretty much that. I love taking tests! I passed my L1 exam at a Neutral Ground SF PTQ, pulled an all-nighter at the Onslaught prerelease, and shortly afterwards I moved to Portland.

In Portland I discovered a friendly and active crew of judges, led by Eric Bess, Alex Charsky, and Dave Noble. Eric was a recent L3, and Alex was close. It seemed like every time I saw him he'd just returned from a sponsored trip around the world. He made L3 at US Nats in San Diego in 2003, and I decided I wanted a shot at traveling for Magic. That meant I'd have to make L2, which meant... more tests!

In late spring, I travelled to my first large competitive event: Northwest Regionals, in Bellevue. I believe there were somewhere between 300 and 400 players. I was in way over my head, but I loved it. My team lead at that event, by the way, was Bryan Zembruski, who recently reentered the judge program not as the L2 he left it, but as the new Judge Manager.

I was becoming a regular judge at competitive events, working all the PTQs I could. At prereleases, I was managing flights, doing some training here and there. At a team PTQ in Seattle, I met Scott Larabee (he denies that this story happened) when he stopped by the card shop to share a bit of gossip with HJ Alex Charsky: Jeff Donais was leaving Wizards to work at Upper Deck!

I had no idea who Jeff Donais was, or why this was important. It became brutally clear when Alex and Eric moved to Southern California a month later to work for him.

Eric continued to fly up to run our prereleases and give tests, and in the fall, jetlagged and hungover from a trip to Boston, I passed my L2 exam. Game on! ... now I just needed a Grand Prix to attend.

As fate would have it, the DCI delivered to me a totally stacked lineup of events for the next year: GP Oakland, PT San Diego, PT Seattle, and Worlds in San Francisco meant I would not want for opportunities. I sucked up policy chats and rules chats and mentoring chats like a sponge. Also, I met dozens and dozens of fantastic people. And over time, while I continued to learn and grow as a judge while I worked those big events, my focus shifted.

Some of that focus shift is the focus shift that we teach about the program, from working on rules and practical aspects of judging to working on leadership and mentoring. But some of that focus shift was the realization that I was becoming part of a worldwide community. There were judges from every part of the world that I looked forward to seeing, and playing cards with, and having dinner with, and arguing with about silly corner cases.

Maybe, I suppose, it's possible that I could have driven myself through years of motivated self-improvement without the squishy, personal side of judging. It's certainly possible to go to a Pro Tour, work a couple days of 12-hour shifts, draft with strangers, and go home happy. That was largely what I did, my first time or two. But I doubt it. It's just so much more rewarding to see people grow, and struggle, and succeed over time. To keep track of your match record in casual drafts against someone who lives 8,000 miles away. To share the stories and trappings of home with new friends. I brought three pounds of freshly roasted Stumptown coffee with me to PT Hollywood: two bags for judges who requested it, and a third, for the first judge I could find who would like to take home a gift that tells something about where I'm from.

I'll summarize my thesis like this: nobody would reach the level of skill and knowledge we expect of an L4 if the community wasn't such a good one for spending time in and engaging with. Everyone who contributes, therefore, can—and should—take pride in the high bar we set and the commitment required to attain it.

The one regret I have about this event is that my schedule, mostly spent on L3 interview panels, kept me from working with a tremendous number of judges I'd never met before. I'm setting myself a new goal for future Pro Tours: eat at least one meal with a group that is primarily judges I don't know. I want to make sure that everybody has the right kind of introduction into this awesome community.

It's a thrill to be promoted to L4, I can't deny it. But not nearly as thrilling as reflecting on the investment I've made in observing other judges and helping them succeed, the time that others have spent helping me, or the countless hours of staying up late, celebrating the game that brought us together. And knowing that there's lots more of that in my future... that's the icing on the cake.

Until next time... keep shufflin'. And judgin'.