As a born-and-raised Northwesterner, the last few years of US Nationals locations have intimidated me somewhat. Baltimore, Atlanta, Baltimore, Chicago: all places with a deserved reputation for steamy, brain-melting summer weather. In my hometown of Olympia, humidity is that thing that happens when you forget to turn the fan on while you shower. It's not an outdoor experience. But I've survived another year of the Hot and the Humid. It was a good week.
One of the (decidedly few) downsides to growing up in a dry, mild climate is that thunderstorms, which I adore, are rare occasions. So it was a great pleasure to spend my first evening in Chicago playing Scrabble with old friends and listening to the roar of the wind and a pretty healthy electrical storm raging outside, an experience enhanced by my first exposure to Goose Island's Summertime Kolsch beer (a fine and underappreciated style of ale from Cologne, cold-aged like a lager).
As usual, the tournament site and affixed hotel offered a welcome, if overenthusiastic, response to the lakeside summer weather. I actually spent more time feeling too cold than too warm. There are worse problems to have in the summer.
The tournament itself was smooth, busy, and fun. I bounced between L3 interviews, judge seminars, and time on the floor, mostly in the Public Event area. It became clear that some L1 and L2 head judges are not accustomed to having L4s working as floor judges underneath them. Players are sometimes caught off-guard by this, too, but in my experience, they're often delighted to see a Jason Ness or a David Vogin taking their call or handling their tardiness penalty. The startled HJ, on the other hand, assumes a deer-in-the-headlights, what-sin-did-I-commit look.
It's fun, in a mildly sadistic way, but here's what they should know: the judge program, these days, is awesome. The average L2 is probably more of an expert in running Magic tournaments—benefitting, as they are, from several years improvements in both technique and training methods—than their senior predecessors were, back in the day. If I turn up looking to pick up trash and push in chairs for you, there's no need to squirm. If you start to go off the rails, I'm going to tell you, gently but directly. But mostly, I'm going to relax, and do my job—the job that you assign me—confident that I'm following a talented judge who knows how to get things done.
And they definitely know how to get things done.
Getting To Know You
In many ways, US Nats is not unlike a Pro Tour in the number and quality of judges. We had something in the neighborhood of sixty stripy judges. As I've mentioned, a key difference is that most of the staff are from the US or Canada, while a Pro Tour demands a broad representation of judges to ensure that policy ideas are efficiently disseminated and that there's good language coverage for judge calls when English fails. However, there are usually a few imports at Nats.
This year saw L4 Adam Cetnerowski (who I recently displaced as "the Littlest L4"—figuratively, if not literally) join us from Poland, where he helms a very active judge community. I haven't worked closely with Adam for a long time, so one of the pleasures of this event was getting reacquainted, after periods of significant growth from both of us. We were on an L3 interview panel, which affords the opportunity to get to know a lot about everyone in the room, and shared thoughts on several of the seminars over the weekend, so I definitely felt like I got to see him demonstrate his role in the program.
I was reminded of my first encounter with Adam, at PT San Diego in 2004. I was a fresh-faced L2 at just my second Pro event (after GP Oakland of the same year) and Adam was a journeyman L3. I can't recall if we had any significant encounters during the tournament itself, but towards the end of the weekend a group of judges got together at a rather silly Mexican seafood restaurant (with a strong focus, I gathered, on the overconsumption of alcohol). The occasion was Sheldon Menery's promotion a few hours earlier to L4. I was seated directly across from Adam, feeling rather shy towards the whole group. Through several waves of conversation, I tried to find a way to engage my peers on a subject that would demonstrate that I belonged in this group. Finally, I found my entry. "You're from Poland, Adam? I'm a big fan of the films of Kieslowski..."
Adam looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat a bit. "I prefer, uh... Steven Seagal."
We didn't really talk much about movies at this tournament.
I Can't Believe I Ate It All
As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, Sheldon Menery, Toby Elliott, and I had dinner at the otherworldly Chicago restaurant Alinea, a bleeding-edge bastion of the cuisine known as molecular gastronomy. I'm happy to say that I made it—as did my companions—through all twenty-seven courses. Many of those courses, mercifully, were as small as a single bite, but that figure doesn't include bread pairings (an idea, let me say, whose time has clearly come) or wine (another twelve points of service).
This was less a meal, and more an art installation intended to be put in your mouth—some of the writers for this site would no doubt describe themselves the same way (that's as far as I'm going to take that joke), but this was the real deal. The basic approach involved a constant confounding of expectations: hot things were served cold (liquid-nitrogen dipped Wagyu beef), soft things served crunchy ("meringue" of mozzarella), sweet dishes made savory (chocolate and duck), and on and on. Then they'd surprise you by tossing something right over the middle of the plate, like the indescribably rich exploding black truffle raviolo topped with shaved parmesan and, uh, more truffle.
The whole experience was a bewilderingly professional choreographed dance. We toured the kitchen after the meal. I'd estimate that they have 40 people working (between cookstaff and service) for a restaurant that serves 65 on a full night. It was utterly unforgettable. I probably won't be back soon, if ever, given the pricing and the number of other fantastic food options in Chicago, but I certainly won't regret it.
Is There An Election Going On?
I had an exceedingly pleasant surprise a couple weeks ago, when I opened my inbox to discover an invitation to join the Selection Committee for the 2008 Magic Pro Tour Hall of Fame induction cycle. I was caught off-guard by how exciting this invitation was to me. The committee is a little bigger this year than in past years, with just over a hundred members (plus the pros who meet the eligibility criteria for the Hall of Fame and receive half-votes as members of the Players Committee). Part of this expansion includes the Level 4 judges.
I have some clear thoughts about who I will be voting for (Mike Turian) and who I will not be voting for (not in the cards, Mr. Long), but this year's ballot certainly offers some challenges. I'll be crunching numbers and trying to pin down my thoughts on where the ethical line is for Hall of Fame-worthy players and Hall of Shame-worthy players. I'll definitely be sharing my ballot here; I think that as a judge, I've got an obligation to be open about my decisions and reasons. Thoughts on this subject? Happy to discuss it in the forums.
Until my chad-free ballot hits the ballot box, keep shufflin'.
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