Offseason (8)
As time passed, the TIC main event was nearing its end.
With fewer TIC matches to watch, the frequency of our practice games—where we'd swap lanes and play from each other's perspectives—dropped off too.
Instead, that freed-up time filled with bot games, scrims against other teams, and solo ranked queues.
With less time spent analyzing TIC matches, I ordered the players to ramp up their solo queue games again, and sure enough, they started sticking around late into the night to grind.
I wasn't just barking orders at them to fill their games while I slacked off and went to bed. I took turns spectating their play, jotting down lists of habits and movements from each match, checking them off one by one.
Solo queue is worlds apart from scrims—in fact, because no one plays with any real focus or discipline, it naturally exposes all your everyday habits.
In scrims, the flaws I'd been pointing out might show up less, but stick them in solo queue and they'd loosen up, letting those same old weaknesses slip right back in most of the time.
Take Seona or Yuna, for example. Without Hayoung there to rein her in, Seona would go full aggression mode nonstop, dying to obvious ganks left and right. And Yuna? Solo queue brought out that infamous temper of hers in full force.
"Hey, you fucking idiot! I pinged missing ages ago! Where the hell are you looking that you miss a ping I dropped way back and still feed? How the fuck did a moron like you even climb to Master?! Ugh, so frustrating!"
"Listen to yourself—you sound like total bullshit. You never mess up, huh? Just sitting there flipping your shit over everyone else's mistakes. Bet you got no friends."
'Aish, here we go again with Cha Yuna.'
After that blowup with the team during the promotion matches, she'd cut way back on snapping at her teammates. But as a trade-off, her solo queue arguments had only gotten worse.
The second that game ended, I fired off an in-game message to Yuna.
She'd already gotten chat-banned for reports, so Yuna's words didn't even show up anymore.
With no way to chat in-game, I clicked my tongue and knocked twice on Yuna's capsule, where "MUTED" was flashing.
Yuna popped out from inside, looking sheepish as she gauged my mood.
"Get to the meeting room."
In the meeting room, I crossed my arms and sat, drumming my fingers on the table. Yuna fidgeted, sneaking peeks at my face.
"Great job as team big sis—getting chat-banned for cursing in solo queue. How many times is this now? Third one I know of, so you're probably looking at a week."
"But our mid was playing like an idiot..."
"Brat, you think you die if you lose one solo queue? I win some, lose some too—but how come you pick a fight every single time you lose? You know how much risk that is if you get banned mid-Division 3 or higher for flaming? One person like you turns the whole team's rep into 'the rag-in-mouth squad.'"
"Not rag-in-mouth bad..."
I flicked her forehead hard. Sometimes this girl just needed a good snap.
"Ow!"
"Right to the end, never your fault, huh? You gonna pull that promotion-match shit again if things go south in a tourney—cursing and biting at the team?"
"I-I don't do that to the team anymore!"
"If you're not gonna do it to the team, don't do it in solo queue either. One more time I catch you flaming, and I'm yanking the voice-recognition parts from your capsule outside of practice."
"Tch..."
Yuna rubbed her slightly swollen red forehead, then asked me,
"So how do you handle it, Coach?"
"Me?"
"You run into all sorts of trash—psychos, brain-dead idiots. What do you do? Just sweet-talk 'em?"
"You nuts? Waste energy coddling psychos?"
"...You don't? Then what?"
"Ignore 'em. Even if they cost you a game, if you're confident in your skill, you win the next one and recover. Why kiss up to them?"
But Yuna didn't look convinced.
Her face screamed, 'Ignore that bullshit in the heat of the moment and just keep playing?'
"Look at that face. You don't believe me."
"Nope."
"Tsk tsk. Not everyone's as sensitive as you, Yuna. Wanna see how I play solo queue? You're banned anyway—can't really play properly."
"Huh? You solo queuing, Coach? Hell yeah. Always wondered how you play."
Yuna jumped on the offer and started spectating my game.
Challenger-level solo queue. None of our girls were even close to touching this tier yet.
I scanned the enemy team after queuing and group-messaged Yuna.
"Enemy side's got a male Division 1 Nostalgia mid and a female Division 1 Tempest offlaner. Perfect. Watch that offlaner close—it'll help you."
Probably meant she got it.
The game devolved into typical solo queue chaos—no real macro, kills popping two or three per minute.
I crushed mid completely, but our sidelanes got smashed—offlane folded to their carry, and our carry couldn't check their offlaner either.
Mid was our only winning lane.
Still, I called shots as needed, leading the team in her stead.
Even when teammates missed pings or calls and died pointlessly, I never raged—just "It's fine, don't sweat it," encouraging them.
That's the obvious play, but most people can't do it. Losing pisses you off.
Problem is, raging doesn't make bad players good.
I used to be like Yuna, but after enough reports, bans, and official warnings, I mellowed out and learned the truth.
I farmed like a monster, but the other lanes collapsed, so we lost.
Nexus exploded, I said nothing, queued right back up.
"You don't get mad, Coach?"
Yuna, who'd watched it all, sounded amazed.
I carried hardest of the ten, but sidelanes shit the bed.
If she'd been in my shoes, she'd have lost it.
"Of course I do."
"Then you coulda said something to carry and offlane. You farmed so well and those idiots threw it..."
"If I'd played better, we'd have won."
"...?"
"I keep telling you—don't blame losses on others. Unless there's intentional trolling or AFK, every loss means you could've carried harder.
That teamfight? I only got two before dying. Three and we'd have won."
"...You can just accept that and move on?"
"Told you during promotions—raging at bad players changes nothing, just makes it worse. In games, the merely bad are saints.
Some watch pros and troll to tilt you on purpose. You wanna clutch your neck and drop dead when you hit that?"
Yuna scowled, just imagining it.
"Can't we just kill 'em?"
"That's why you can't—control your temper or mute allies and enemies both, treat it like solo practice. Grind for tourney wins, not solo points. It's just a self-check stage."
Next queue popped.
"Wanna keep watching, or head to your solo?"
"...One more."
Maybe figuring there was plenty to learn from Challenger plays, Yuna spectated two more before heading to her own queue.
After spectating Yuseong's games, Yuna started her solo queue—muting chat right from the jump.
His words kept echoing in her head.
She'd bought the promotion-match lecture since she'd messed up plenty, but wasn't fully sold on "Why curse bad players? It changes nothing."
She'd figured it was just damage control. But watching him play? Yuseong really never snapped at bad allies, just focused on his own game.
Even after throwing because of them, no blame—just queue up again.
No one like that existed, she'd thought.
Sweating through her plays, concentrating solely on her role, Yuseong's image made her cheeks flush for no reason.
'Ahem... Kinda mature... and cool.'
Somewhere in her mind, the fact that she was an adult too had vanished.