Stay ahead of the curve with our weekly guide to the latest trends, fashion, relationships and more.

Stay ahead of the curve with our weekly guide to the latest trends, fashion, relationships and more.

Stay ahead of the curve with our weekly guide to the latest trends, fashion, relationships and more.

IIt’s the Super Bowl of esports, I’m told. A feeling that means little to me but which means a lot to the 180 million people who play League of Legendsan incredibly popular desktop game that perhaps hasn’t yet broken through to the mainstream British public in the same way that Fortnite Or Call of Dutybut it means a lot to the men aged 15 to 25 who make up the majority of its players.

Not that apathy is an emotion that could be detected anywhere in the crowd gathered this afternoon outside the sold-out Wembley Stadium. This is the first time that League of Legends The finals – an annual event and the culmination of a multi-stage tournament that began this summer in Berlin – were held in the UK and tickets sold out in a Glastonbury-style frenzy. Resellers were seeking up to £1,000 for a ticket that could have cost them £60; a group of Chinese students sitting in the row behind me (one student in Durham; three in Bristol) paid £500 for the section on nosebleeds. But everyone is delighted to be here. This is clearly the case. And not because Linkin Park is happening.

As is the case with most esports events, there is an element of flamboyant costume, with many participants dressed as their favorite characters – or champions, as is the correct terminology. Those who go all out are mainly women (who are more numerous than I thought). A girl in her twenties wearing a blue wig and a makeshift skirt made of nine fluffy tails tells me she’s dressed as Ahri, a sexy fox-human hybrid. The men, on the other hand, wear the jerseys of their favorite players, often completing their look with a fluffy green bucket hat in homage to another character, Teemo. “He’s cute,” one of the dressed men offers by way of explanation.

The O2 itself is packed, busier than I’ve ever seen it for a concert. It’s also awash in an appropriate shade of electric blue – the exact color a non-gamer might associate with an event like this; a color reminiscent of printed circuits, Tronthe future. On one of the many giant screens, pundits discuss the impending match in jargon I can’t pretend to understand. I hear a few words here and there: “Gameplay… Midlane… First blood… Jungle”. I ask my friend for help but before he can begin to explain, the lights go out and the opening ceremony begins.

It’s an impressively large-scale production that begins with a performance by avant-garde pop star rapper Ashnikko, backed by a cohort of hooded dancers moving in unison. It culminates in a fiery performance from newly reformed nu-metal rockers Linkin Park, now featuring singer Emily Armstrong, who emerge to deliver their raging anthem “Heavy Is the Crown” – it’s the official theme song for the global tournament of this year (Imagine Dragons wrote the one last year and Lil Nas X the year before).

This level of pomp is familiar. There’s a level of excess similar to that of an expensive boxing match, with pyrotechnics that get hot in your face and laser beams that stretch through buildings. Certainly, next month’s spectacle fight between Logan Paul and Mike Tyson will invite the same degree of pomp and ceremony – although far less goodwill. Like these boxers, tonight’s 10 players (five on each team) leave with a confident attitude. Call it cheesy, but it’s impossible not to get caught up in the drama of it all. In 20 minutes, the programmers manage to arouse more emotions than the Paris Olympics in four hours.

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As Armstrong reaches the song’s climax, his throaty cry resounding to the gods, a trophy – the Summoner’s Cup – appears at the back of the stage, flashing seductively in the glare of a dozen of projectors. A quick word about the cup: created by esteemed goldsmiths Thomas Lyte (also responsible for the FA Cup trophy), it is a medieval-looking chalice that looks like something out of Lord of the Rings. Surprisingly, it weighs almost 70 pounds, requiring the strength of multiple players to lift it. (I don’t want to generalize, but esports professionals tend not to have the same muscles as their more physical counterparts.)

Which brings us to the game itself. From a journalistic point of view, I know little League of Legends (LoL); my affinity for desktop games ended when I was 13 and I completed all 97 levels of Fight against bubbles. My friend, long-time gamer and avid observer of Lolgives me the short version: two teams of five players fight for control of a battlefield, working in areas to build strength and defeat monsters. The game ends when one team destroys the other’s base, which can take between 25 and 40 minutes. In a championship game, it’s a best-of-five scenario. “Just keep your eyes on the score at the top of the screen,” my friend said, noticing my obvious puzzlement, pointing to the giant four-sided screen in the center of the room.

It’s a clash of titans: South Korea’s T1 team against China’s BLG. The men take their place in an installation which, although raised on a lit podium, is essentially made up of only two rows of five computers facing each other, approximately two meters apart. The event has an underdog narrative – although T1 have never lost to a Chinese team at Worlds, they have so far endured a disappointing 2024 season which has seen them defeated in seven of 18 matches in their domestic championship .

Crucial in its bid to attract fans, T1 also features Lee Sang Hyeok – better known by his gaming nickname Faker. The affable mid-laner is the closest thing esports has to a celebrity. At 28, the young man with glasses is practically geriatric for a professional; the second oldest player in T1 is 22 years old. Among his fans, Faker inspires the level of devotion of Michael Jordan. An Andover man says he’s more like Christiano Ronaldo because he remains remarkable even though he may be nearing retirement. In 2020, Faker said he declined a $10 million offer from a Chinese team. Most of these players, I’m told, earn six-figure salaries.

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It’s hard to parse exactly what they’re doing at the start of the game. Looking at his monitor, which quickly switches between views of the battlefield, I suspect he’s having serious technical difficulties . My friend assures me this is the pinnacle of fitness in action: an absurdly fast click rate as he types with the mouse at such speed it’s almost indistinguishable. A kinetic beauty in its own right, the same as a Federer serve or an Ali jab. That Faker had to miss a significant portion of the year due to wrist injuries is starting to make sense.

The stadium detects every expert execution, every meticulously planned ambush. It’s a bit like a heated debate in the House of Lords, with a chorus of oohs and ahhs, sometimes morphing into impassioned primal chants from the other side. And the action plays out exactly as a finale should: a nail-biting thriller that lasts the full five games. BLG takes an early lead, drawing first blood in the first game and dominating from there, before T1 comes back from the edge to clinch it. For me, the result is small – but the story is irresistible and the environment electric. Consider me converted.