Last night I've been thinking. My first thoughts concerned this game three, which seemed to be in European hands after a good teamfight in our jungle. I thought about Baron Nashor's attempt, which maybe seemed dangerous and unnecessary, and Martin 'Yike' Sundelin's turn, which was maybe too hasty and gave the cards back to BLG. Then there was the decisive teamfight in the midlane, which had me jumping out of my chair as it got off to the best possible start before the executioner Zhao ‘Elk’ Jiahao turned it around.

Maybe because Steven ‘Hans Sama’ Liv suffered a bug during his Rend? Maybe because the feeling that prompted him to pause the game a little later made him dizzy for a few seconds, taking him out of that crucial moment when he could have either escaped or turned alongside Rasmus ‘Caps’ Winther? These are just some of the details that could have maybe enabled Europe to topple the Chinese champion, one of the favorites for the competition.

I also recalled the other two lost games, the one against Hanwha Life which was maybe winnable, with better decision making and execution, Caps' teleportation which was canceled at the last millisecond during the fight on the topside, and which could've maybe won it. The game 2 against T1, which was maybe won all along, before being lost because of Mun 'Oner' Hyeon-jun's Baron steal.

That unlucky draw, which maybe made us go through the most complicated path out of the Swiss, facing the Korean champion, the world champion and the Chinese champion. I then went further back and found myself watching VODs from last year. The famous BO3 against NRG, which we were supposed to win but missed out on, maybe because of the sickness that struck our champions at the time.

In my dismay, I minced this simple word: ‘maybe’. That word that forces me to dwell on those painful moments, imagining the best, when the worst has happened. Because there's nothing worse than the disappointment that ripens into frustration and powerlessness. This weariness over the unfulfilled promises of the players, who nevertheless assure us that they are playing for the title, wanting to give us hope again.

But above all, there's the frustration that comes from knowing that they're capable of better, as they proved at the MSI by snatching fourth place, sweeping aside Top Esports, and making T1 shake in their boots. And in reality, they've also proved it in these Worlds, otherwise all these ‘maybes’ wouldn't cross my mind. So yes, maybe G2 deserved a place in the top 8, but they're not there for the second year running.

Then this morning I took a step back, and with that slight distance, I realised that my disappointment had turned to anger. But I wasn't angry with G2, quite the contrary, despite my resentment about the level of Europe they were surely the last ones to be blamed. I realised that the burden they had been carrying since last year was not a common one, that it must even be far too heavy for a single organisation. How can it be logical that a team that won every competition in 2024 in its region — 4 out of 4 — should say they were ‘disappointed with their year’?

Why shouldn't I take it out on Fnatic, the eternal runner-up, who is no longer expected to do anything internationally? More generally, why shouldn't I feel resentment for my region, which is incapable of delivering more, which seems to rest on its laurels far too often, and which has scaled back its ambitions in recent years? After his defeat, Mihael ‘Mikyx’ Mehle told us that winning in Europe is nothing to be proud of. Who can contradict him? Who can blame him for these words? On the contrary, the blame must be laid at the door of all those who bear responsibility for the situation he describes.

And it's not just the teams or organisations that are to blame, but also the organisers, who are giving less and less importance to the professional scene by deciding, for example, to dismiss half the people who made it running, or to create formats that are more than questionable in terms of regional growth. But also, more generally, our mentality, which does not necessarily allow young Europeans to pursue their dream of becoming professional video game players because it would not be a conventional or even acceptable path.

But tomorrow, I'll regain hope. Because I am imbued with this unifying passion for my league, the one that corresponds and belongs to me because I come from it geographically and culturally. Because it has a rich history and many rivalries. Because there are so many players and teams that I've fallen in love with because of their content on socials, the way they play, or the way they are. Because I'm always full of enthusiasm for the national leagues, and the talent that's out there, working day and night in the hope of reaching the highest level and one day raising the bar internationally. Because I hate to admit it, given the gap that currently separates us, but one day we'll get there. Maybe.