Grinder: The Brad Nelson Story

200 Pages·2011·1.04 MB·English

by  Hagon

Grinder:
The Brad Nelson Story

by Rich Hagon

Copyright © 2011 Rich Hagon
Edited by Glenn Jones
Published and distributed by StarCityGames.com
Cover design by Kristen Plescow
Book design by Lauren Lee
All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without
permission in writing from the publisher. The only exception is by a reviewer,
who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Wizards of the Coast, Magic: The Gathering, and Magic: The Gathering Pro
Tour are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC, a subsidiary of Hasbro, Inc.,
in the United States and other countries. ©1993-2011 Wizards of the Coast LLC.
All rights reserved.

Acknowledgements
To our families, for supporting us over so many years. To all the many
friends we've made around the world. To our readers, listeners, and viewers, who
make it all worthwhile. To the staff behind the scenes at StarCityGames.com
who have worked tirelessly to see this project through to fruition. To Wizards of
the Coast, the people who make Magic the best game in the world.
From Rich, a special thank you to all the wonderful people of North Dakota.
For sharing your homes, your food, your stories, and your friendship, you guys
are the best.
And finally to you, dear reader, for joining us on the journey.
Many and heartfelt thanks,
Rich and Brad

Dedication

In loving memory of

Patricia Anne Hagon

1934 - 2010

Foreward
Fargo, March 2011
It has been, quite frankly, an astonishing week. For the last seven days I have
lived with Brad Nelson, laughed with (and sometimes at) Brad Nelson, and
listened to Brad Nelson as his story has unfolded. How often do we get the
opportunity to spend something like one hundred hours engaged in intimate
conversation with someone who has reached the peak of their craft? How often
do we get to spend day after day exploring the inner workings of a very special
human mind? And how often do we get to uncover the fundamental truths that
separate the extraordinary from the merely very good?
Of course, to listen and to record and to quest for understanding is only half
of the equation. Any book like this can only be as good as the subject is prepared
to make it. When I arrived in North Dakota, Brad and I were not close friends. I
knew that he was smart, a tremendous Magic player, and that I had always
enjoyed our occasional professional conversations at various events around the
world.
I arrived with an outline of a story; a story of wins and losses shaped by the
major highs and lows of Brad's Magic career. I leave with something profoundly
more interesting, more challenging, and more humbling. I leave with insight into
another human being—an insight achieved purely because Brad allowed it.
This book does not judge Brad Nelson. That he has achieved considerable
success in his chosen field is beyond doubt, as is the fact that he has paid a price
for that success. Whether that price was worth paying is something for every
reader to consider, because at the heart of this book is a simple question with an
infinitely complex answer.
How do I succeed?
This book is largely about the Magic: The Gathering Trading Card Game because that is the arena in which
Brad plies his trade—if you're unfamiliar with the game, I suggest visiting the appendix, "More about
Magic." Yet this book could be about accountancy, politics, theater, architecture, poker, or any sport under
the sun. Anything, in fact, that involves the pursuit of excellence. While the success Brad has achieved is
far from a universal experience, his story is precisely that: it's the story of someone who has a goal and sets
out to achieve it.

Enjoy the ride.
R.
Prologue
In the Event of a Tie
"**** Magic."

—Brad Nelson
Chiba, Japan. December 12th, 2010—the final day of the professional season, the final day of the Magic:
The Gathering World Championship. Eight players have reached the Sunday stage, and they will battle for
a combined payout of close to $250,000 dollars. The quarterfinals and semifinals are over. Now only two
players remain, going head to head under the pitiless glare of spotlights both literal and metaphorical as
they vie to secure the title before a global audience that spans hundreds of countries and contains millions
of players and fans.

Away from the hundreds watching the arena on a giant video screen, away
from his friends, and away from well-wishers he just doesn't want to have to deal
with, one man paces. This lumbering giant of a man peers with intense blue eyes
out of a rounded, deeply-forested face. It doesn't take a genius to look into those
eyes and see a man whose world is slowly falling apart.
You would be hard-pressed to guess what he does for a living. If this were
wrestling, he'd be "The Mountain Man" or "The Great Bear." Without the beard,
maybe "The Baby-Faced Assassin." Perhaps he's a security guard. If so, you
wouldn't want to pick a fight with him—drunk or sober. In truth, he most closely
resembles an offensive lineman for the Minnesota Vikings.
Meet our hero, Brad Nelson.
Brad doesn't make his living with his body. He isn't a security guard or a
football player, and this isn't wrestling. Yes, there's something Incredible about
this Hulk, but it isn't the massive power generated from monolithic shoulders.
This man's power lies elsewhere.
Where it counts, there is nothing slow about Brad Nelson. He has the speed
of Usain Bolt, the fastest man alive, between his ears. His mind harbors the
machine-like analysis of Peyton Manning, future Hall of Fame football
quarterback. His eyes twinkle with the Machiavellian cunning of Phil Jackson,
legendary Los Angeles basketball coach. He possesses a mathematical prowess
that would put poker professional Daniel Negreanu to shame. Most of all, Brad
bears the ruthless will to win that every truly great sportsman requires.
And he is losing.
It isn't meant to be like this. For most of 2010 he has been just about as dominant a force as a game played
with cards will allow. The Magic: The Gathering Pro Tour sees players from around the world bring
personalized decks of cards to huge tournaments. There they compete for days, culminating in a Top 8
where the elite display their skills. With thousands of cards to choose from and an ever-changing landscape
of available options, this is the ultimate test of gaming skill.

Hundreds of players—sometimes thousands—compete at each major event,
but only eight will reach the knockout stages of the final day. The chances of
reaching the hallowed Top 8 for the average player are miniscule.
In 2010, Brad's Top 8 success rate is close to 50%.
It's outrageous, unexpected, and completely unprecedented. As the Pro Tour
has crisscrossed the globe from California to Kuala Lumpur, from San Diego to
San Juan, from Sweden to Sydney, and at last to Japan for the end-of-year finale,
Brad Nelson has built a virtually unassailable lead in the race for Player of the
Year, Magic's ultimate accolade.
And yet...
And yet Guillaume Matignon, an unheralded twenty-nine year-old
professional from Bordeaux, France, is systematically ruining what was meant to
be a coronation. For Brad, it is rapidly turning into a wake. At the end of the first
day of competition, Matignon sits so far back in the field that you almost need a
telescope to see him. His Top 8 chances were balanced on the point where
mathematical improbability intersects with mathematical impossibility. Since
that precarious point, Matignon has done nothing but win, and win, and win
again. Now, in the finals of the World Championship, he faces fellow
Frenchman, fellow traveller, fellow roommate, and even fellow Guillaume:
Guillaume Wafo-Tapa, a former Pro Tour Champion.
If Matignon wins, defying odds that would quail the heart of even the most
ardent chip-and-a-chair Vegas hopeful, he will make Magic history and force a
tie in the Player of the Year race. There will also be the not-inconsiderable
matter of $45,000 for becoming World Champion—but it is the tantalizing
glimpse of a Player of the Year playoff that occupies the minds of most
watchers.
For Brad, the prospect isn't tantalizing. It is sickening.
In truth it's his own fault, and he knows it. While some of his rivals have
been piling up miles on their airline loyalty cards, Brad has arrived at this
position of global dominance in a manner that borders on the insouciant. He has
resolutely refused to chase Pro Points at far-flung events, preferring to stay home
while others attempted to bridge the gap his stellar run of Top 8 performances
have created. It's ironic that this most perceptive and reflective of characters has
only just come to the realization of how important the Player of the Year title is
to him at the very moment when he is most helpless to influence the outcome.
So he paces.
He has been undone by a welter of experiences he has yet to process, the
weight of global expectation he hasn't been able to carry, media obligations that
have forced him out of his Zen-like comfort zone, a tournament schedule that
has left him physically and mentally exhausted, and, above all, by a series of
must-win matches that he simply hasn't won.
The drip-drip-drip of pressures both real and imagined constitutes a form of
mental torture that even Torquemada would envy. The unkindest cut of all
comes in the final: the Torture of Hope. While the door to salvation remains
however tentatively ajar, Brad Nelson must continue to believe that Wafo-Tapa
will do him the greatest of all favors. He must believe that he will hold the
Player of the Year trophy aloft before the eyes of the world.
So he paces.
Finally, mercifully, it is over. In the battle between these French roommates
and best friends, it is Matignon who has triumphed, Matignon who is the 2010
World Champion, and Matignon who has forced the first ever playoff for the
Player of the Year title. Backstage, a deluge of emotions—none of them good—
crash against Nelson's psyche, and he knows this is a time when only family will
do.
"To be honest, I just hid for a while," Brad recalls. "It was a very, very sad
time. I wanted to come home and show off a trophy. I couldn't win Player of the
Year any more—I could only lose it. It felt like something that was already mine
was taken away from me. I know it wasn't the case, but it felt as if the title was
being stolen. Matignon is a good player, and he's now a good friend, but he'd
come out of nowhere. He had two huge finishes and got 48 Points from those
two events. That's unreal.
"For the first time in a while, I needed parental reassurance. When you're a
kid, there are times that you think the world is ending, even though of course it
isn't, and you just need a hug. Right then, I needed blood."
He calls his father Jess, who is watching every moment of the Top 8 back in
Bismarck, North Dakota. This is meant to be a moment of high elation—a final
justification for all the hard work and heartache, a glorious conclusion to an
incredible Grind, and a reward for all the support that loving parents lavish upon
their offspring. Instead, this is as difficult a moment as the Nelson family has
faced during Brad's time in the game.
Brad's pain echoes in his father's words. "I just felt so bad. My heart reached
out to my boy who was in a lot of pain. I could tell in his voice that he was just
crushed, that the walls had just come tumbling down."
Also watching that fateful afternoon is Brad's grandmother Delila, a woman
of indomitable spirit. Delila religiously follows every scrap of information about
her "little buddy," so she already knows what has transpired. "I was sitting there
and thinking, 'Well, you may have won the World Championship Mr. Matignon,
but you haven't won Player of the Year.' We still had a chance."
Grandma Delila has it right. In the event of a tie, the regulations call for a
playoff to determine the destination of the title. This is uncharted territory—as
the supposed final day of the season comes to a close, nobody knows what form
the playoff will take. All anyone can say with certainty is that the world will
have to wait until a date with destiny in Paris, France on Valentine's Day
weekend to discover exactly who will be crowned Player of the Year 2010.
Delila puts it best. "He was down, but he hadn't lost yet."
With two months to wait before the playoff against Matignon, Brad will
eventually place the World Championship events into perspective.
"Some website nominated my Worlds week for 'Most Depressing Performance of 2010.' I won nearly
$11,000 that week. Seriously, that was a bad weekend?"

However, as he lies in the silence and solace of his hotel room, the memory
of watching Matignon hoist the World Championship trophy high is painfully
fresh and perspective is not so easy to come by. As he closes the door on the
most painful chapter of his career to date, Brad has time for one last primal
thought.
"**** Magic."
Chapter One
North Dakota
"From that moment on, I decided that killing things wasn't something I needed to do."

—Brad Nelson
Bradley Jess Nelson is born on May 21st, 1986, to mother Laurie, a
secretary, and father Jess, a postal worker. Both in their early 20's, they marry
young and soon want to start a family. Although he would never admit to a
preference ahead of time, Jess is thrilled to be the parent of a baby boy. They're
tremendously happy parents, but Jess and Laurie's relationship fails with Brad
still little more than a baby. Jess moves on to fresh pastures while remaining in
close contact with his son, leaving Brad to grow up in the care of his mom and
Grandma Delila.
It's easy to think in terms of stereotypes, and Brad lives in a world surrounded by the kind of images that
dominate the stylized Failing America documentaries. Try "single moms," "broken homes," and "trailer
parks" to get the ball rolling—add in emotive words like "drugs" and "prostitution" and you've got a whole
HBO miniseries waiting to happen. But, like many of the best true stories, the reality is a lot more prosaic
than the headlines that accompany it.

Brad is quick to deconstruct the obvious associations. "So, the trailer park thing. Yes, there were a lot of
poor families. I mean, you wouldn't choose to be there if you were rich. There were a lot of Native
Americans, a few single guys, lots of single moms with their kids. Not many families. There were some
drug problems, mostly meth, and there was this one woman who persuaded men to pay for sex under her
trailer. I guess there was a little petty crime. So, if you want to say that this was the bad part of North
Dakota, then you can say that. But let's be clear—the bad part of North Dakota is nowhere even close to
actually being bad."

Whereas the north side of town has all the nice homes, all the trailer kids live
on the south side. Despite the potential social problems, Brad has a good early
education: first at Roosevelt Elementary and later at Fort Lincoln Elementary
once he reaches third grade. Both are good schools with good teachers and their
graduation rates are high.
It's well-known that children can adapt to almost any circumstance and
regard it as a normal part of life, but listening to Jess makes it seem as if it was
always going to take something significant to disrupt the young Brad's calm.
"Right from the start, he was a contented child. He had a wonderful