Abalone makes a tasty dish. I am a lover of seafood, have been seen fishing and diving, and occasionally grace the bar at my local sushi establishments. Cooked fish, raw fish, fish eggs, tuna salad—I am down for just about any ocean delight. In my humble upbringings in Oklahoma, I fished with my dad in an old bass boat during spawning season. I also went deep-sea fishing every chance I got. I used to know this old Cuban lobster miner from Key West, who would take me out into the Gulf waters for overnight fishing adventures. He would chum the water, and we would spend the night flopping red snapper into the boat by starlight and gasoline-powered spotlights.
One particular evening, the sun was an hour set and the fish were dancing around the baited waters beneath the boat. The weather was warm and electric, and we could see the activity of a distant storm closing the gap between our 1970s lobster boat and a world of thunder and pouring rain. The boat was seaworthy, but small. As the waters rocked, the boat would rise to the edge of a water cliff and crash into the foam and salt like an amusement park log ride concluding its sudden drop. We were soaked and shaken, and decided to call it a night. The spotlights in the water reflected shifting schools of fish and pirating barracuda, along with dark, drifting shadows and splashes of nighttime color.
Typically, we used ocean poles and heavy test line. The old Cuban fisherman, however, taught me to reel in the big fish with fluency and accuracy using a hand-spun spool of fishing line. Most of the time I fished with the spool of line, forgoing the inconvenience of reels and the difficulty of pulling in a heavy catch supported by unstable, bent graphite poles.
There is a sort of primal advantage gained when you discard the typical fishing tools. You brace your knees along the railing of the boat, and rotate the line as fast as possible after you secure your catch with a good yank. In the end, you can pull in a bigger fish in less time. Time is always an advantage when you chum the water and bait for schools of fish, for we are not the only predators stalking the waters. Barracuda circle and attack your potential catches, leaving you with a broken line or a half-eaten fish; if you’re quick, you might get the whole thing. Occasionally, you feel a small tug on your line, and halfway to the boat you get the spool ripped from your hands as large shadows surface and devour your potential prize. Ultimately, you are fighting the barracuda and sharks for the best catches.
On that particular night, I lost my will to fish. (I even lost my will to eat fish.) As we pulled in our lines and prepared for the miles back to shore, there was a tug on my line. I felt that as long as I had cast the line, I might as well finish the act. I set the hook and began to lure my fish from the deep, opaque waters. My friends had started the engines. The schools of fish scattered, darting away in many directions from the spotlit waters, and we began to move. I continued to pull in my line, and noticed a new tension created by the resistance of my catch and the motion of the boat. The boat’s rocking intensified to a melodic skip across the rough waters. It thrust upward and forward, followed by a downward drop to the surface in anticipation of meeting the next wave. I braced my knees under the metal railing in an effort to keep my top-heavy body from flipping into the wake. I had done this a dozen times before, and never thought of tasting those evening waters.
That night marked a turning point. I saw the large head of a mangrove snapper rising from the water, and I leaned slightly forward to net the fish. As the boat hit a particularly large wave, I indeed flipped head over feet into the ocean, still clinging to my spool of lined and attached fish. It was dark, and the clouds had drowned out the clarity of moonlight, leaving me in a dense, rocking pool of uncertainty. Water splashed over my head, and the boat turned back to retrieve me. The spotlight-turned-searchlight blinded my eyes. I don’t think my boat-mates ever really lost me in the water, but upon being reeled back into the boat with some rope and the aid of some strong, 20-year-old fishermen, I learned about a scary twist in my adventure. When I was in the water, the spotlight was adjusted to find my form. There was a large visible portion of the water framed by the light, which included the fish and myself. As I grabbed for the rope, I let the spool go. About that time, my friend Jose told me, a shark drifted behind me and swallowed my catch. It was that close.
On the way to work this morning, there was a report on the news about a man who was nearly bitten in two by a great white shark on an abalone diving expedition. Every time I hear about a shark attack it reminds me of that night. I always ponder the “what ifs,” and consider the possibility of future shark attacks; I have not really felt like fishing or swimming in the ocean since that night. As I shifted my time away from water sports and fishing, I took up more land-based exploits and found competitive card playing.
I have talked with lots of people about how they got started playing Vs. System. Some players came from other card games, while many other players liked comics, and wanted to flip cardboard featuring their favorite super heroes and villains. I just didn’t want to get eaten by a shark. As a casual player, I enjoyed building my favorite decks, developing new strategies, and trying new deck ideas. I liked taking my pet deck to Hobby League and trying to get tricky combos to pop. Time passed, and I found myself reading for hours on the internet, perusing top-placing decklists and booking flights across the country to test my mettle against the game’s best.
Last weekend, I played in a Pro Circuit Qualifier to hone my Sealed skills and learn more about drafting the Legion of Super Heroes set. Orlando, Florida tends to house some really strong players, and the events always draw multiple PC Top 8’ers and great pro players. The competition is tough, and the skill level in our local events matches the quality of play on the Pro Circuit. I both love and hate the competitive environment in Florida. Sometimes it can be a drag playing your best decks and limiting your mistakes in an effort to secure a Top 8 finish, but the high caliber of the competitors results in optimal growth and a fantastic opportunity to prepare for national and worldwide professional events.
During the Sealed portion of the event, I was lucky enough to open some great cards, and I piloted a strong deck into the Top 8. If you ever get a chance to run rare cards like Cosmic Tuning Fork and Brainiac 5.1 in your Sealed decks, it is highly recommended. In most matches, I was able to hit an optimal curve and draw my entire deck by turns 6 and 7. Add in Jack Knight ◊ Starman and you are likely to have the cream of your proverbial crop taking the field with consistency across matches.
The judges set up the brackets and mapped the challengers that stood in the way of a finals berth. There was a strong mix of PC finalists, $10K Championship winners, and some of the best Sealed and Draft players in Florida. As we began the draft, it became immediately clear that there would be no gifts and no easy picks, and that deck construction would have to be tight. I don’t think I was able to lap any great cards, and most of my picks fourth and after were cards that deserved to be picked late. At times, I have been in a draft and seen first- or second-pick cards arrive at a later time; this draft was an exception.
I began my draft by taking a strong ATK modifier, and then I scooped up Brainiac 5.1 for a second choice. I eventually selected a good mix of early Teen Titans characters and powerful low-drop Legionnaires to form the foundation of my favorite Draft archetype in this set. I value highly cards like Titans Memorial, most of the high ATK, low-cost characters from the aforementioned teams, and strong finishing characters that offer broad bonuses or benefit from cosmic or substitute abilities. This set also offers some really powerful characters like Alan Scott, White King and Power Girl, Child of Crisis that may fit in a variety of decks. In my second pack, I first-picked Scott, and I made my third pack selection a second copy of Brainiac 5.1.
After a couple of rounds of Draft play, the decks were in full combat. I began to realize the potential of some of the off-team characters like Jack Knight ◊ Starman (set up a weenie rush or brickwall by drawing a ton of cards) and Director Bones (your characters are worse than you thought they were). In a game dominated by the oversized Alan Scott, Superboy, Yellow Sun Armor can be a big finisher, and early team synergy is almost always better than slower curve-based builds.
At the end of the day, I walked away with a playmat, some cash in my pocket, and a few more PC points. But I realized that I had traded one dangerous hobby for another. I was back in that murky water with serious predators. I barely escaped with a couple of wins, and I easily could have been devoured by some serious competition. I am well on my way to understanding the subtlety and complexity that Legion of Super Heroes offers in the Sealed and Draft formats, but I feel like I am still wading in the ocean. Sometimes the shiny lights blind me. Again, the sharks are lurking behind my back. I got away with a win, but it was close.
Class Dismissed.
Jeremy “Kingpin” Blair (7-drop, TAWC) is a card flipper and student of the game from the southeastern part of the United States. He can be found dodging sharks and gators in a local card shop, and is trying to prepare for the long swim to Sydney. If you have constructive comments or questions, feel free to contact him at Tampakingpin@yahoo.com.