This chapter is part of my upcoming book, called “On Magic.” To read the main narrative, visit my website. Thanks!

Nick didn’t play Magic: The Gathering, but he’s had an incredible impact on me as a Magic player. Despite having nothing to do with Magic, he’s taught me a lot about competitive gaming. It would be a disservice to write about Magic without mentioning his influence.

How? Let me explain.

When I was sixteen, I didn’t play competitive Magic. Instead, I gravitated towards the Star Wars Collectible Card Game. I played the hell out of that game. I used to get my mom to take me to the local card store to play in the monthly Star Wars tournaments. When I was in school, I used to daydream about the game. I loved everything about the game, from its sci-fi roots to its flavorful gameplay mechanics.

As I played competitively, I faced older players at the store who beat me regularly. But I could always come back, get better, and beat them given enough practice and perseverance. Over a period of twelve months, I was improving as a player and winning my fair share of Star Wars matches.

But I could never beat Nick. Nick was one of the strongest Star Wars CCG players at the store I frequented. No, scratch that. He was the best. I can’t overstate this enough. Nick was an absolute beast at the Star Wars CCG. He crushed it.

This one time, a bunch of us traveled from Vancouver to Calgary to play in a Star Wars regional tournament. Nick, Kevin and I, all Vancouver players, finished in the top 3. We finished ahead of the local Calgary players who attended. We were outnumbered in the neighborhood of 15-to-1, but we played well.

I faced Nick in the finals. And…he beat me. It wasn’t even close.

I was good enough to beat anyone in Calgary, and basically the entire Western Canada region, but I just couldn’t beat Nick. He was unstoppable.

There were a few reasons for Nick’s dominance.

First of all, Nick was an incredibly creative deck builder. His creativity at finding strong card combinations surpassed everyone else in the community. Nick had a knack for reading the spoilers for a new set that was being released, devising killer strategies in his head, and then immediately crushing all challengers with brand-new strategies. Most of the time, his instincts would be completely right.

It was mystical to the rest of us. This was in the early Internet days of the nineties; there weren’t millions of people discussing every conceivable strategy in online forums around the world. There was less of a “hive mind mentality” when it came to players coming up with the same conclusions, because the world wasn’t as centrally connected yet. Yet Nick would always playtest cards, in proxy format, for new stuff that was coming out, without relying on the collective wisdom of the community.

Nick didn’t consult with the hive mind, because it wasn’t yet available. He devised things on his own. But the greatest thing about his solo endeavor? He was usually right about the power level of the cards.

And then he would crush us.

The “creative deck building genius” part of Nick’s repertoire was pretty hard to duplicate. But it did teach me something about not being conformist when it came to any competitive endeavor. Don’t just read the latest strategy online and copy it, because it may not be the best. There is always the chance of something better. Nick showed us that there was always the chance for something better. I think if the Star Wars CCG were re-released today, Nick would still be one of the top players, because his level of intuition was spot-on.

Also, Nick was a strong technical player. I associated this strength with his gaming background and his past experiences as a billiards player. Nick played a large variety of games, and Star Wars was but one part of his repertoire. He was disciplined, focused, and made few mistakes. Even Nick at 80% of maximum capacity was better than the room. Nick made good reads on players, and didn’t let matches slip away due to loss of focus.

Nick was one of the first people who demonstrated to me that you couldn’t take plays off. You had to concentrate and play to your outs. On more than a few occasions, the in-game odds looked really bad for Nick. Many of us would have zoned out and conceded when a win looked impossible. Yet Nick usually found a way to out-play his opponent, especially when the opponent grew over-confident. Nick doesn’t get demoralized, and neither should we.

Nick also possessed an awesome attitude, and was a good role model for us younger players. Back then, I was an extremely sore loser. I hated losing so much, and never shied away from letting people know about it. By contrast, even when Nick had a bad day or lost a close game, he would keep his head up and laugh it off.

As Nick was older and wiser in the ways of the world, he gave us advice about not letting the outcome of a card game affect our livelihoods. He was the big brother who saw that we needed the right kind of advice. He told us what we needed to hear, and we listened.

It was clear that Nick, as a person, was about much more than just the Star Wars CCG. He had other interests and hobbies, and wouldn’t let a single card game dictate his mood. That’s a lesson I’m still learning the hard way.

Having said all that, Nick’s greatest impact on me wasn’t even learned while I played the Star Wars CCG. It was his generosity and forgiveness towards me, even as I betrayed him.

Nick was a member of a special Star Wars CCG mailing list for insiders. The company making the game, Decipher, was spoiling new cards in the special mailing list so that players could give their reactions and input on new cards. As Nick had won several large tournaments, he was invited to the mailing list, and I wasn’t.

Nick was pretty excited about one of the new cards. It was revealed to the mailing list but not to the general public yet. One day, as we were hanging out at the card store, he told me about the card. After “spoiling” the card for me, he told me not to reveal it to anyone else.

So what did my sixteen-year-old-self end up doing? I casually mentioned it on an online Star Wars CCG forum. As I was associated with the Vancouver area, it wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out whom I received my intelligence from.

Needless to say, Nick was angry. He told me as such. I was embarrassed. In my youthful exuberance, I had opened my mouth and damaged his reputation in the community.

We stopped talking to each other in the tournaments. It probably didn’t mean much to him, but it ate away at me. I started having bad dreams about betraying someone, and it kept me awake at night.

A few months later, as we were lining up to play in a tournament, I took Nick aside and I told him that I was sorry for what I did. I offered a handshake with tears in my eyes. I was tearful and nervous because I kept thinking that he would laugh in my face, and rightfully so. After all, I had done something rash and he didn’t have to forgive me. In his position, I might have scoffed at the apology.

To my surprise, Nick accepted my handshake and my apology. I cried a little before remembering to wipe my tears. Just like that, things went back to normal between us.

I’ll never forget that incident. It probably means very little now, to me and to him. It’s water under the bridge. Nick and I haven’t kept in touch. We’re not friends, in any sense of the word, anymore. And we never were good friends to begin with — only card-playing acquaintances. In hindsight, the betrayal was such a small and insignificant thing when compared to the universe at large.

But in that single act of forgiveness, Nick taught me more about gaming, and sportsmanship, than he will ever know. He taught me to be the bigger man and not hold grudges. And to give others a second chance.

That is a lesson that will stay with me for a lifetime.