EPTIf you have checked out some of my earlier blogs, or caught me in the ABL IRC you may know me and Anxiety have a rather contentious past. We caught the emotional equivalent of coffee last week when my team had its first match during the group stages of ORTL. To elaborate on the aforementioned unique aspects of these group stages: a Diamond level player must start for each team.
I like this for two principle reasons:
- 1. I get to play for my team
2. You get to see some funky games which I like to think is a welcome break from more crisp play
Now I have never been a competition player per se, in fact up into this point the only "competition," I can recall being party to was about three leagues and two years ago when it was only Blizzards ladder system that was keeping me down, and I was of course, "at least a high platinum player." I wasn't. Even that was between similar level players all of whom I knew personally and have since left SC2 for other games.
Even while laddering I am relatively secretive, not in that I play on a barcode (you know to hide my gosu strats and so nobody can snipe me), but more because I can't maintain my focus if I am hearing our Raidcall chatter, or doing much else besides enjoying my Grooveshark constructed Fortress of Solitude. My Raidcall channel is even called "Tom Servo's Sarcasm Den" ffs. Now I am faced with playing live, on stream, and in front of more people than I ever had most of whom I have never met.
Hello anxiety my old friend, I've come to talk with you again. Though that day it wasn't the type of anxiety I normally deal with i.e. don't talk to me I really need to be alone but it was laced with adrenaline, butterflies in my stomach and the Red Bull I drank at work to stave off the, "fuck I just finished work," feeling. 2:30 feeling my ass Five Hour Energy, I am for truth in advertising.
This was really my first taste of what it must feel like to play on a main stage, albeit on a much more micro scale. Ailuj playing Losira comes to mind, though there are several other examples this, to me, seems an especially daunting example. It was as exciting as it was nerve racking and I completely understand wanting to feel like I did last week again.
For me it was as though I was watching myself play but not entirely present. While that may be a bit esoteric, I felt entirely separated from the experience at the time. This may have been due to a double clutch moment where the opposing team's Diamond player appeared not to have shown, then logged in. My mouse seemed like a new tool I was given only a few minutes of training with; in fact it was downright difficult to hold at times. I imagine caffeine didn't help that. Similarly my keyboard felt awkwardly spaced and I was having trouble locating myself over my usual hotkeys.
At the end of the match, I got sufficiently stomped. I played a far better Terran than I am Zerg. Though it turned out to not really matter to me as much as I had anticipated it would have. My team cleaned up the rest of the set and we didn't drop another match. The match isn't that important in the grand scheme of things as far as league structure goes, but to me it was an achievement.
Almost like an author getting published for the first time, I put my name and my game out there for the world and community to see. Though it didn't go remotely how I would have liked, I come out the other side with that much more experience and a taste of what it is like to compete. For me it was as much about helping my team, as it was getting off the sidelines and putting myself out there.
I am feeling great about our match coming up this week, and looking forward to it. There are still butterflies even thinking about it, but having whetted my appetite I am less nervous about the match and more anxious to play it. This time it will go my way.
