In Which Andy Murray Murders His Bruce

Ten years and three hundred fifty-two days ago, John "Friggin" Rizzo wrote an odd piece for Star City, a monograph that could really have only come from him. "Stuck In The Middle With Bruce" is one of those rare Magic articles that transcends expectations (Another is Jackie Lee's funny, insightful recent effort "A Non-Magical Guide to Soulbound," which begins "This article may well be the death knell of my writing career."). These types of articles are the ones we remember months and years later as we slog through our daily lives.

If you've forgotten about Bruce, go and read the article again real quick.

I bring up "Bruce" because I had one of the aforementioned flashes of memory recently when I was watching Andy Murray battle Novak Djokovic in the final of the Men's Singles at the U.S. Open (quoted stats are from the linked article). Heading in, Murray was 0-for-4 in Grand Slam final appearances. Murray had brought in a new coach, Ivan Lendl, who had also gone 0-for-4 before going on to win eight Grand Slam finals. The choice is telling--Murray felt his problem was not technical, but mental. He didn't bring in a coach specializing in technical minutia. He brought in a coach who knew what it felt like to lose his first four Grand Slam finals, and who had managed to, you know, stop doing that.

I played a little bit of competitive tennis in high school, so while I'm by no means an expert, I do know that the game, in addition to being demanding athletically, requires prolonged concentration. Sort of, you know, like winning a Magic tournament with eight rounds of swiss followed by three rounds of single elimination. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The first set was incredibly intense, and went to a tiebreak. The tiebreak tied at six points each, then nine points each before Murray was able to finally take the set, 87 minutes after it had begun. Murray sprung out to an early 4-0 lead in the second set and hung on to win 7-5. He was one set away from the title, but momentum had clearly shifted back to Djokovic, who had won five out of the last eight games.

Murray lost the next two sets 2-6, 3-6. Djokovic would serve first in the deciding set. Murray looked like a man who had gotten off at the wrong subway stop and had gotten three blocks away before realizing he had no idea where he was. He was all awkwardness and dread, torpor and bewilderment, each stroke belabored. Going up two sets and losing is almost unheard of--but if you had to bet on someone to do it, it would have to be Andy "can't win the big one" Murray. Everything pointed to a grueling fifth set, ending, one suspected, in heartbreak for Murray and history for Djokovic.

Or not.

As near as I can tell, Andy Murray became some kind of tennis-playing android between the end of the fourth set and the beginning of the fifth. It was as though he decided not to lose the last set, and his body went out and did as it was told while his brain clocked out and went home to an early dinner and a nap. He didn't just pull back ahead--he rolled. Murray broke serve in the first game, held serve, and then broke Djokovic again, putting Djokovic in the unenviable position of having to break back twice just to pull even. Djokovic was finally able to catch his footing, but by then his margin for error was too small for it to matter. The remarkable thing was that after four hours of punch and counterpunch, agony, angst, and anger, the last set was so seemingly pedestrian. When Djokovic's groundstroke went long for match point, it seemed as though Murray was ready to pick up the ball and play the next point, either unable to believe that he had managed to win, or so much within himself and in the moment that anything on the outside--including and especially the enormity of the moment--had faded into the background.

In my memory of this match--the narrative I retain even as the details of the match proper get blurry--Murray is playing not against Novak Djokovic but against Bruce. For four sets, Murray and Bruce are in the tennis equivalent of a drunken street fight. After coming out strong, Murray starts fading, like he has so many times before. His Bruce is relentless--and seems to be impervious to whatever Murray can throw at him. At the end of set four, Murray is bruised, bloodied, and fed up. But then his eyes go cold. In one smooth motion, Murray walks up to Bruce, kicks him in the back of the knees, grabs him by the hair, draws a pistol, and calmly puts a bullet through Bruce's temple. This wasn't a tennis match. It was a Public Execution.

Murray def. Djokovic, 7-6 (10) 7-5, 2-6, 3-6, 6-2. Murray def. Bruce, 7-6 (10) 7-5, 2-6, 3-6, 0-0 ret.

I've played in five M13 limited events since the last PTQ, not counting the side events that day. My combined record is 15-2-1 in those matches. 3-0, 3-0-1, 2-2, 4-0, 3-0. I feel good about my handle on the format, with the one exception that I have no idea how to play/draft/build Green in this format (as far as I can remember, all of my M13 match losses have come with Green cards in my deck). Maybe it's just my Bruce that can't play Green at this point. Hard to say.

Whatever the case, I'm going to a PTQ in West Mifflin on Saturday. The format is M13 limited. I don't know that my technical play needs to improve to win the PTQ. I don't know that my high-level strategic decisions need to get better either. There's clearly room for improvement, there, but I think the single biggest factor holding me back right now is my mindset. I had watched the 100th episode of Day[9]'s Starcraft webcast when Cedric Phillips linked to it in his article on the relative shortcomings of Magic: the Gathering live coverage, and it touches on some of these issues. That made me think there might be more good stuff around. LSV's advice about tilting, "lose until it doesn't bother you," is good, but it isn't actionable mid-tilt. I was looking for some things I could do to help regain my composure if I found myself getting nerves, or tilting, or letting my emotions (or my Bruce!) dictate my gameplay decisions. Luckily enough for me, I found some stuff.

• If you have Star City premium, I recommend taking a peek at Brad Nelson and Gerry Thompson's excellent video "Mental Missteps." 
• This article breaks down how to stay clutch in situations where you need to perform a task involving juggling lots of stuff in your short term memory (like rushing to meet a deadline at work or when you need to tank in a game of Magic). Short version: if you slow your thought process down, you'll make quicker, better decisions.
• This article breaks down how to stay clutch in situations where you need to perform a task that requires you to repeat an action you've done many times (like shooting a free throw or playing through the ebb and flow of a Magic game and using the basket of heuristics [shortcuts] you've developed over the years)--think "muscle memory."   Short version: distract yourself, trust your instincts, don't change your pace of play (and especially don't slow down).
• While we're linking things, here's Day[9] Daily #100 - My Life of Starcraft. Short version (substitute in whatever emotion):

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

I distilled all of this down to a notecard which reads as follows.

Tilting: Focus on the emotion and process it; don't focus on the situation that caused the emotion.

Nerves: Talk through your plan for the turn in your head (i.e. subvocate), then execute.

Bruce. Andy Murray.  |  Brain chemicals! Litany against fear!

 I brought that with me from Arlington when I drove to Pittsburgh today. Might bring it to the event site but the point was less to make a talisman and more to do the mental work of summarizing and compacting what I've learned.

My goal for the PTQ is to put in a personal best mental performance. I will do my best to remain even-tempered and mentally composed for the duration of the event. To do this, I will try to purge my emotions after every match, win or lose. If I notice my subjective perception of time speeding up and my toes tapping (or similar signs), I will use the subvocation trick. I haven't had a problem with overthinking things under pressure yet, but if I do, I will sing a song to myself in my head while I play. Probably Gangnam Style.