Chapter 5: Streamer or Star?

A whole afternoon passed. Not a single team contacted me, but streaming platforms were lining up to sign me, offering double my annual salary.

Discord DMs blew up—platform reps with slick avatars, promising bonuses and brand deals. Some even tried to sweeten the deal with custom emojis and founder’s badges.

Some didn't even care about daily hours, just wanted forty hours a month.

That was less than ten hours a week. I could game, eat, and nap more than that.

Truly loaded.

My desk was littered with Monster cans and sticky notes—each one a new offer I could barely keep straight.

I did the math on the back of a napkin and still couldn’t believe it. The money in streaming was unreal if you had a championship ring and a loyal fanbase.

But I didn't sign. Besides streaming for the fans occasionally, I spent the rest of my time practicing to keep my form.

Every morning, I ran solo queue, kept a notepad of strategies by my keyboard, watched VODs until my eyes crossed. I wasn’t going to let my edge get dull.

Mr. Carter, hounded by my fans on Twitter, finally snapped and posted: just wait for spring split, Wolf Team would do even better without me.

His tweet was full of bravado—tagging the official league account, even dropping a hashtag. The replies were a mess: popcorn emojis, clown gifs, and fans quoting my stats.

So, besides playing games, my new unemployed life got a side gig: commentating on Wolf Team's matches.

A streaming friend slid into my DMs: “Dude, you gotta do live takes on Wolf Team’s games. Viewers would eat that up.” So I did. And they did.