Pro Spirit
“Ughhh...”
Good thing Dad made me take those motion sickness pills. If I hadn't, I really would've hurled.
My sister Jung Yuna's driving was straight-up the worst. It wasn't even that she was going fast—how the hell did it make me so queasy? Do I get carsick? Nah, I don't...
Meanwhile, Yuna seemed thrilled just that we hadn't crashed.
“How was it? I drive pretty well, right?!”
“......Y... yeah, you do...”
I debated spitting in her face with that expectant look of hers, but right now, she was firmly the boss. I was just the underling. Hey, no accident? That's a win. Gotta call that good driving. Time to lean into the placebo effect.
“Let's head in quick.”
“First match of the day, huh?”
“Obviously. If it was the second, we wouldn't have made it.”
WCK's regular season schedule packs two matches per day, regardless of the weekday. First one's at 5 p.m., second at 7 p.m. If the first runs long past 7, they take about an hour break before the next.
The meta in recent tournaments had been a mix of early-game snowball comps that ended matches fast and the so-called "swamp meta," where you'd pick champs with strong wave clear, stall to the late game, and flip the script with high-value plays.
Honestly, the swamp meta wasn't the most spectator-friendly. Who wants to watch 30-40 minutes of just farming minions? But I wasn't against it—far from it. I actually leaned positive.
Pro teams exist to win for their fans. Sure, some fans crave spectacle, others just victories. But ultimately, winning is the biggest value. No matter how thrilling the game, constant losses wear you down. Even if it's boring, that final victory at the end? You can rally around it.
At least, that's my take.
Today's matchup—A1 versus Hawks—pitted polar-opposite metas against each other. Fittingly.
A1, true to their powerhouse status, dominated every lane. Their jungler nailed ganks at perfect timings. Their macro was spotless. All five players were top-tier in their roles. They snowball from lane phase, roll that into macro, and end games quick.
Hawks? Solid lanes, but not overwhelming anyone. Their real strength was macro. With five mid-tier-or-better vets, their execution was surgical. They grab late-game scalers, drag games out with elite ops, and close on their terms—the textbook swamp team.
Flashback to this season: Spring Round 1, A1 took early leads but couldn't crack Hawks' defense, coughed up chances, and got reversed. Round 1 Game 2, Hawks snowballed early themselves; A1, playing catch-up, folded to the stall and lost 2-0.
By Spring Round 2, Hawks tried shifting styles to snowball more—admitting the meta favored it—but botched the rollouts and imploded both games.
They struggled through defeats, pouring in effort, and finally nailed the pivot by season's end.
Summer Round 1: Hawks built a 6k gold lead over A1 in lanes... only to crumble to teamfight power. Both games, early dominance into late collapse.
I watched live—today's rematch had hype.
Only three teams pushed top-dog A1 to the brink all Summer Round 1: Hawks, RT Javelin, and SASUNG COMET. (Javelin and Comet even stole a game each.)
We flashed our tickets at the staff via phone; they let us in. 4:50 p.m.—perfect, 10 minutes to kickoff.
We grabbed seats and waited. Minutes later, caster Hojun's intro boomed through the arena.
I locked eyes on the screens, hyped for the show.
And...
Today's match completely betrayed my expectations.
*
Okay, fine—my hype was sky-high? Guilty.
Last round's A1-Hawks clash felt like a "war of the gods." Hawks' jungler Chasing schemed early traps that cornered A1 stars. Their ADC Captain matched Boom shot-for-shot. Midlaner Mumk's macro made A1 sweat. Peak strong-team stuff.
But today? Hawks crumbled too easily.
Lost lane priority everywhere—jungler had zero plays, got macro'd into oblivion. Game over.
Game 1 showed some lane fight... but it was just the bare minimum differential. Anything less, and you'd get reversed anyway—an illusion.
Worse, their damage dealers kept whiffing spacing against A1 support Rufus, eating hooks left and right.
Game 2? Rufus on Arista.
Classic engage tank support. Q-Shackle for the init, W-Headbutt to shove foes or dive protecting allies. Ult, Unyielding Will, slashes incoming damage.
Obvious flaw? Telegraphs engages hard. "Arista approaching = skills incoming." She's slow—spot her, counter. Headbutt range is meh; easy to respect.
Yet in skirmishes, Hawks' carries ignored her, ate perfect chains, and tossed fights.
Rufus played sharp too. Hawks support Faye took Jina, whose ult Monsoon is a zoning AoE heal. Can't move during—CC cuts it, leaves her exposed. But payoff's huge: shoves enemies out, massive heals.
Game 2 final clash: Rufus baited Monsoon, Headbutted to cancel on cast, wasted it clean. Followed Shackle-Flash to peel carries, tanked with Unyielding Will.
Bind the backline, burn cooldowns? A1 wins, obviously.
Way too one-sided. Felt like a bait-and-switch.
Not Hawks' fault, really. A1 just overperformed.
*
Post-win interview wrapped; we didn't bolt home. Tradition: winning team does a quick fan meet in the lobby outside.
My Classic-superfan sister? No way she'd miss.
A1's popularity showed—tons of live fans. By the time we hit the lobby, lines snaked everywhere.
We queued dead last for Classic, waited patiently.
Our turn. Luck struck—we were last, so a tad more time. Like 30 seconds to a minute, whatever.
Then Classic spotted us and dropped this bomb:
“Ah, you two came to cheer at finals, right? How've you been?”
He remembered us. From one visit, packed fan line and all.
I recalled that endless queue. For him to pick us out? Shocking.
Sis was the loudest fangirl there, though. Makes sense...
Still wild. She was stammering like crazy—her? I stifled laughs behind her.
She got her autograph, yanked my arm: Hurry up.
Irritated flick-off at her, then up to Classic.
“Long time no see. Doing well?”
“Ah... yeah.”
Stoic vibe, but total people person. This kindness to a one-off fan? Pro spirit?
“Jung Yunho, right...?”
“Yes...”
Even my name. Well, he saw sis first—names are near-identical. Easy recall.
“Enjoy the match today?”
“Pardon?”
His casual question mid-signing caught me off-guard.
“Finals... you seemed kinda dragged there against your will.”
Damn, he remembered that too? Detailed af. Did I mope that hard?
“Haha, hadn't started WoL back then. I play now.”
“Oh... Flash on F, right?”
Mischievous grin as he handed the signed paper. That one line made the lofty pro feel like a chill neighborhood bro.
I grinned back.
“Obviously F.”