I was at the biggest night in e-sports – you could consider me (a non-gamer) a complete sell-out

II'm told it's the Super Bowl of esports. A feeling that means little to me, but a lot to the 180 million people who play League of Legendsa phenomenally popular desktop game that perhaps hasn't quite penetrated the UK mainstream quite as yet Fortnite or Call of dutybut means a lot to the men between the ages of 15 and 25, who make up the majority of his players.

Not that apathy is a feeling you'd feel anywhere in the crowd outside a completely sold-out Wembley Stadium this afternoon. It's the first time League of Legends The final – an annual event and the culmination of a multi-stage tournament that began in Berlin this summer – took place in Britain and tickets sold out in a Glastonbury-like frenzy. Resellers sought up to £1,000 for a ticket that would have cost them £60; A group of Chinese students sitting in the row behind me (one studying in Durham, three in Bristol) paid £500 for the section on nosebleeds. However, everyone is excited to be here. This is noticeable. And not because Linkin Park is performing.

As with most esports events, there is an element of fancy dress up, with many participants dressed as their favorite characters – or champions, as the correct terminology is. The ones who do their best are mainly the women (of which there are more than I thought). A twenty-something woman in a blue wig and a makeshift skirt made of nine fluffy tails tells me she's dressed as Ahri, a hot fox-human hybrid. The men, on the other hand, wear jerseys of their favorite players and often complete the look with a fluffy green bucket hat in homage to another character, Teemo. “He’s cute,” explains a man dressed like this.

The O2 itself is full, busier than I've ever seen at a concert. It's also finished in a fitting shade of electric blue – exactly the color a non-gamer would associate with an event like this; a color reminiscent of circuit boards, Tronthe future. On one of the many giant screens, experts discuss the upcoming game in jargon I can't understand. A few words come to mind here and there: “Gameplay… Midlane… First Blood… Jungle.” I ask my friend for help, but before he can begin the explanation, the lights go out and the opening ceremony begins.

It's an impressively large-scale production that opens with a performance by avant-garde, queer pop star and rapper Ashnikko, backed by a cohort of hooded backup dancers who move in unison. It ends with a fiery performance from newly formed nu-metal rockers Linkin Park, now fronted by Emily Armstrong, who emerge to sing their anthemic rager “Heavy Is the Crown” – the official theme song for this year's Worlds tournament (Imagine Dragons wrote last year and Lil Nas X the year before that.

This level of pomp is well known. There's a similar level of excess to a high-dollar boxing match, with face-heating pyrotechnics and laser beams that stretch across buildings. Certainly next month's exhibition fight between Logan Paul and Mike Tyson will evoke the same level of bombast and ceremony – if far less goodwill. Like these boxers, tonight's ten players (five on each team) will leave the tournament with a confident demeanor. Call it cheesy, but it's impossible not to get swept up in the drama of it all. In 20 minutes, the programmers manage to evoke more emotions than the Paris Olympics did in four hours.

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As Armstrong reaches the song's climax, her guttural scream reaching to the gods, a trophy – the Summoner's Cup – appears at the back of the stage, flashing seductively in the glow of a dozen spotlights. A quick word about the cup: Designed by esteemed silversmith Thomas Lyte (who is also behind the FA Cup trophy), the cup is a medieval-looking cup that looks as if it was cast in one piece Lord of the rings. Amazingly, it weighs almost 70 pounds – requiring the strength of several players to lift it over your head. (Not to generalize, but esports professionals typically don't have the same muscular strength as their more physical counterparts.)

That brings us to the game itself. From a journalistic perspective, I know little about it League of Legends (LoL); My affinity for desktop games ended when I was 13 years old and had completed all 97 levels Bubble fight. My friend, a long time gamer and avid watcher of Lolgives me the abridged version: two teams of five players each fight for control of a battlefield, working in areas to build strength and defeat monsters. The game is over when one team destroys the other's base. This can take between 25 and 40 minutes. A league game is a best-of-five scenario. “Just keep an eye on the score at the top of the screen,” my friend says, noticing my obvious confusion, pointing to the four-page jumbo screen in the middle of the room.

It's a battle of titans: South Korea's T1 team against China's BLG. The men take their seats in an arrangement that, although elevated on a lighted podium, is essentially just two rows of five computers facing each other and about six feet apart. The event has an underdog narrative: Although T1 have never lost to a Chinese team at the World Cup, they have endured a disappointing 2024 season so far, losing in seven of 18 games in their domestic league.

Also crucial to T1's winning over fans is Lee Sang Hyeok – better known by his in-game nickname Faker. The affable mid laner is esports' closest thing to a celebrity. At 28, the bespectacled young man is downright geriatric for a professional; The second oldest player on T1 is 22 years old. Faker inspires Michael Jordan's highest devotion in his fans. An Andover man says he's more like Christiano Ronaldo because he remains remarkable even when he may be nearing retirement. In 2020, Faker said he rejected a $10 million offer from a Chinese team. I'm told that most of these players make six-figure salaries.

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It's difficult to analyze exactly what they're doing when the game starts. Looking at his monitor, which quickly switches between different angles on the battlefield, I suspect he is having serious technical problems. My friend assures me that this is peak esports fitness in action: an absurdly high click-through rate as he taps the mouse at such speed that you can barely notice it. A kinetic beauty all its own, just like a Federer serve or an Ali jab. It's starting to make sense that Faker had to miss a significant portion of the year due to wrist injuries.

The stadium records every expert execution, every carefully planned ambush. It sounds a little like the House of Lords in a heated debate, a chorus of oohs and ahhs that sometimes segues into impassioned, primal chants aimed at the other side. And the action plays out exactly as a finale should: gripping tension that spans the entire five games. BLG takes an early lead, gets their first win in the first game and dominates from then on before T1 comes back from the crisis and secures the victory. For me, the result is incidental – but the narrative is compelling and the setting is electrifying. Consider me converted.