5 and 2

It’s around 5pm, any given Saturday. I’ve just checked my RK9 and after a round of fistbumps from my friends I’m heading to my assigned table. My heart is racing. But it’s not out of fear or anxiety. It’s excitement.

My score is 5 and 2.

Every major that I go to, I hope to eventually end up at this table. Not that I’d mind ending my Saturday at the 6 and 1 tables, but I’ve never actually gotten that far. For now, I’m content with playing my win-and-ins in round 8 rather than round 7. If you ask me, 5 and 2 is where it’s at.

The win-and-in for day 2 is my favourite part of any tournament I attend. After seven nerve-racking rounds of clicking buttons and living in constant fear of getting hard read (or even worse: critical hit), this is what it all comes down to.

You wouldn’t even need a knife to cut the tension in the air around the 5-2 tables; a crooked glance could just be enough to let some players temper run away with them. Not that anyone would openly admit to being nervous, but the sight of a teamsheet quivering like a Volcarona while being handed over by a shaking hand is enough to let the entire hall know.

In my opinion, the key to staying calm is to not be afraid of failing. Think about it: If you lose this match, what happens? Most likely, you still walk away with 80 championship points and half a booster box. Plus, you have a free day tomorrow to explore the city or play in side events (Personally, I tend to go for the side events. Why would I ever buy socks again if I can just exchange my prize points for some?). You can always try again at the next event.

Not that I always manage to stay calm. I don’t. But I’m never afraid. I see the win-and-in as an opportunity.
An opportunity to show what I’m made of.
To show that I didn’t luck into this position.
That I have earned my place.
And that I have what it takes to play with the best of the best.

When I sit down, I can’t wait to start the match. No matter the result, I’m happy to have just felt the thrill of this round. Knowing, that each turn could be what decided the game. Any moment something could happen that ends your tournament run. And that moment can be absolutely soul crushing. It doesn’t matter whether it happens immediately or whether you can already see it coming three turns down the line. That feeling when your heart sinks into your stomach because you know that there is no way for you to win the game.

No matter what I say about not being afraid of losing, it’s an awful feeling all the same. But you can’t give up. You have to use that feeling to motivate you. To drive you the next time you’re in the same position. Because next time it might be different.
Next time it could be you who finds the guaranteed win-con three turns into the future. Then you will be sitting there, barely able to contain yourself. 
Wanting to jump for joy but having to sit still for three more turns.
Having to keep a straight face and focus on clicking buttons.
Until your opponent finally hands you the match-slip and you can march it over to the hive with the biggest smile on your face.
That is a feeling unlike any other.