There are so many Magic pros in the community that you could meet on any given weekend – but here are my top five that I wish I could meet so that they could insult me!
5. Ari Lax
I’d do anything to meet Ari Lax, to sit across from him and have him aggressively question my lines and passing of priority – for him to sullenly glare as I happily keep my seven, for that anger slowly turn to love, as I draw land after land after land.
Oh Ari, tell me how I misplayed, teach me to be a Pro Tour champion!
4. Chapman Sim
I would have to do something amazing to meet the people’s person, the prestigious pen of the WotC mothership. I would have to pray for my deck to come through for me, master my shuffling skills and show that I could compete in my first ever competitive event. Oh! The Mana Screw, the Unfortunate Draws! The Luck shall surely shine on me that day when I meet Chapman Sim.
I will kneel before him and pleadingly look in his eyes. He will smile and, taking out his pen, write two words on my forehead: “Hearty Congratulations.”
3. Reid Duke
He would say, with genuine feeling, how it wasn’t my fault, that I played perfectly and there was nothing I could have done. I would collapse, weeping into his generous locks, and he would hold me, pat me gently on the shoulder, and leave me at an FNM.
2. Joel Larsson
To please the most voluminous of magic players; it’s a dream! He would demand my concession, as I am not as handsome as he – and he would be right. His sultry Swedish tones would deliver the most accurate of critique, and I would lose myself in his eyes and, ultimately, him.
Well known for his expertise in limited formats, he would scoff at my shaky mana base, my greedy splash and poor knowledge of the tricks at common. But I would not care, he is a dreamboat.
I know. How could I ever think to meet the mighty HoF? The monolith. The hot poker of a player beloved by all?
But I want to. I need the scorn; the salt so thick that I could dry-age a small cow; the venom to poison even the Dread Pirate Roberts.
To be insulted by Efro is something else – a whole new level of bile hatred which we all need in order to understand the true nature of man. The raw emotions that we all cradle within our breast. Truly, it would be my end. No mere mortal could ever suffer the weight of his insults, the swamp words he will spew of me to all he can find, friend and foe alike.
Like Pandora’s Box, I want to open it. To unleash the Hellgate and the torrent of fire upon me.