Faker, we doubted you. We were wrong

For us journalists, doubt is the corollary of truth. Without it, we'd be nothing more than purveyors of gossip, propagators of spurious rumors, and agents of a truncated, sometimes even alternative, reality. When it comes to light, reality can only be the fruit of a succession of interrogations, questionings, and confrontations, which have gradually blown away the false leads to clear the way for reality. As Cartesians, we need to doubt. To doubt everything.

Everything, yes, except you. Because these founding principles were imposed on us in a rational world that is not yours. The parallel universe you've brought to Earth doesn't obey the same codes as ours. You, the flawless man when it comes to Worlds. You, the eternal, the world's greatest player, and perhaps forever, already, the greatest player in history.

Last September, our two paradigms collided. When, after a gloomy summer, our Pavlovian journalist reflexes reappeared and we began to doubt. We had seen you less sparkling than usual in LCK, and naively thought that this was a symptom of decline. That you wouldn't, a month later, be back at the top of your game. That this dimension of yours, into which no human being had ever penetrated, had perhaps expired. So we did the unforgivable. When it came to selecting the 30 best players coming to Worlds, we left you on the sidelines.

We decided to include the players based on their current form, regardless of their history in the most prestigious of competitions. Obviously, this changes everything, and you were the one our refereeing penalized the most. Obviously, this editorial choice was widely debated, as we knew that taking the risk of excluding you from such a list was akin to a crime of lèse-majesté that would be punished in the public square. But we accepted the decision. Perhaps, in a way to show off, to be disruptive. As a reminder that we knew how to doubt everything, even the greatest - wrongly, as we realized a few weeks later.

Here we are in early November. And here you are, adorned with your fifth Worlds crown. Decorated with your second title of MVP of the final, at the end of a series you once again enhanced with your prowess, with your genius moves, in the vein of those that gave so many people the desire to discover League of Legends and esports. So, first of all, we'd like to say thank you, both for the emotions you've brought us for a decade now and for the lesson in humility you've taught us, reminding us that your world and your codes are superior to ours. Above all, we say sorry. Sorry for excluding you from this top 30 that you should have dominated. Sorry for believing that others could claim a place at your table in the pantheon of legends of this game. Just sorry, for having dared to doubt you.