Chapter 6: Rivals on the Main Stage

As reigning champs, Wolf Team was naturally scheduled to play the spring split opener. Their opponent? The powerhouse Cyclone, who'd lost 2-3 to Wolf Team in last year's Worlds semis, missing the finals.

The hype was real. SportsCenter even ran a segment on it—eSports making primetime. My mom called, saying her friends in church group were asking about the match.

This year, Cyclone renewed all contracts—even the coach stayed. They were going for another run with the same roster.

Cyclone’s owner posted a squad selfie on Instagram: all smiles, no roster drama. Their fans were pumped.

They were also Wolf Team's biggest rivals; both teams were evenly matched.

It was Yankees–Red Sox, Lakers–Celtics. Fans started the banter a week early on every gaming app.

At Worlds, if Cyclone's top laner hadn't choked in the last game—blindly invading our jungle and giving me a huge kill—the result might have been different.

To this day, I remember the look on his face after that misplay—pure disbelief. Sometimes, the smallest moment changes everything.

Thinking back still makes my heart race.

My hands get cold just remembering that final teamfight. I’d replayed it a hundred times in my head, still not sure how I pulled it off.

So before the "Maple Heights Showdown" even began, over fifty million people had reserved to watch online, and offline tickets were being scalped for crazy prices.

Some scalpers on Twitter claimed tickets were going for more than Super Bowl nosebleeds. My old high school even hosted a watch party in the gym.

I picked this match for my commentary debut. Didn't Mr. Carter tell me to watch closely? I'll do a live breakdown.

I set up my streaming rig, double-checked my overlays, and got some local pizza delivered. I grabbed a slice of pepperoni from the pizza box, grease staining my napkin. The chat was buzzing before I even went live.

Before the match started, my stream viewership exploded, second only to the official broadcast.

My alerts went off so fast I had to mute them. Twitch chat zoomed by—donos, subs, emotes of my old champion pick.

Besides my own fans, most of the chat was Cyclone fans, tossing gift subs left and right.

They were rowdy but good-natured, hyping up every team stat and spamming "CYCLONE SWEEP" in all caps.

During the winter free agency window, when my contract expired, rumor accounts said I might transfer. Cyclone fans went wild, begging their org to sign me.

Some even started a Change.org petition. I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my Gushers.

"Caleb, look at Cyclone. Every role is stacked except top lane. If you join, Worlds is in the bag."

They kept tagging me in Cyclone memes—one even photoshopped me into a blue jersey with my catchphrase on the back.

"Wolf Team doesn't cherish you, but we do."

That one got a heart emoji from me. Had to let them know I appreciated the love.

"Haha, Cyclone fans, you're too humble. Caleb's a free agent now. As long as Cyclone offers, he'll definitely accept."

"Heh, don't get cocky. If Wolf Team wins today, Caleb might not get signed by anyone."

Fans from all three sides were fighting in my chat until the match officially started.

It was chaos, but the kind that made me feel alive. Like the roar of a stadium, even if it was all just text on a screen.