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I was born Catholic, and as a young lad was a devout member of the Holy Roman Family; the"One True Faith." The first day of every week my mother would dress us in our Sunday best, march us up to Saint Anthony's, and we'd sit and listen to Father McGuire tell us about how we were the root of all evil. It's just an inherent part of being Human, we learned. Terrible things were abound in the world and it was all our fault. Catholicism, you see, is based on guilt.

Hi, my name is Terry, and I'm a recovering Catholic.

Now, although I haven't been to Mass since Christmas (when I must to go for fear of breaking the aforementioned Mother's heart), that doesn't make me much different than most Catholics. Most only attend on Christmas and Easter. What makes me different is the fact that I no longer believe. The world is a more beautiful place. All that they have instilled in me, lies as unused as my old rosary beads.

All of it that is... Except the guilt. Nobody feels guilt like the Catholics.

So here I am, 2002 years after the last guy took one for the team - and some other lad has just died for my sins. It took me about fifteen years to get over the first guy; the second guy may take me a little longer. The trouble with the new martyr is that despite what Father Mac told me every Sunday, I'm only responsible for the second crucifixion. Thus, I'm here to use the old Catholic methods in hope that they'll make me feel better the way they once did.

I'm here to Confess, Repent, and pay Penance.

Bless me, Ferrett, for I have sinned. It's been 13 years since my last confession.

I love Rizzo. No really, I love the guy. He's the only person in the world I've ever sent fan mail. I believe his ideas. I regularly read his columns knowing that I too would never ID; I, too, will build my own creation to take to every PTQ, and I, too, would never whine and claim land screw when I just plain got beaten. But along the way I faltered and strayed from the righteous path. I have sinned against Rizzo and would give half my life rounded up, to have it all to do over.

Back in September 2001 during the days of IBC, I sat down to build for an upcoming PTQ. With only 12 hours 'till registration and having not played in three weeks I logged on, pulled up StarCity Games, and copied down a wee list of funny names. I built the deck, took it to the PTQ, and got smashed soundly. 'Twas more that I deserved.

Then, just months later in an Odyssey-Torment Limited PTQ, the true test of my faith arose. With one round to go, the Top Eight were all three points ahead of the dude in ninth. An easy in for all, right? I'd seen my opponent's deck. It was, without question, a savage green beating. Piloted by an 1900 rated player, that deck was not losing to my tricky Hypocondria-maindeckallmyproblackdudes pile o' random cookies.

Before I had time to think about it, the kid said,"draw?"

I shook his hand and he walked away.

I am all that's wrong with Magic. I did the wrong thing. I shouted"Free Barabas" 'cause it was the easy thing, to do and sent the Savior off to his death.

Forgive me, Rizzo, for I knew not what I did.

The funny thing about this weak analogy I'm rollin' here, is that Rizzo may end up being more like a Messiah than I though, and in his Death he may be more powerful that he ever was alive. He pleaded with us to write, and though I was tempted, I never felt I had enough to say. Now here I am writing upon the announcement of his departure. Guilt is a powerful thing.

I killed Rizzo. When the time came, I sinned. Never again. No net decks, no IDs. As a disciple of Rizzo, I proclaim my faith. I will write ROGUE on my DCI card; I will always turn 'em sideways to see who makes top 8. Magic is part of my magic. Rizzo was part of my magic.

I will not do as Rizzo said, merely because he said so, but because he was right. I was a sinner, I confess. I am sorry, I repent.

This here article is my penance, chief.