If you, like me, have ever wondered how completely anonymous figures can seemingly wander into positions of power in our community, here’s the uncomfortable answer: Our scene isn’t being led by people from our platform. It’s being ruled by people from another one. Let’s talk about the #NLC and how it’s been run into the ground by leagues.gg, spearheaded by Mathias Horn, Christian Henriksen, and their day-to-day admin Frederik. If you scroll through MH’s Twitter, you’ll notice something strange. For someone in charge of a regional League ecosystem, he barely interacts with the players competing in his league, the fans he needs to attract to broadcasts, the talent and journalists who create hype, and the community that actually keeps the scene alive. When criticism appears, when statistics are questioned, when former employees speak up about unpaid work, the pattern tends to be the same. Defensive replies at best, silence at worst. And the same near-invisibility applies to the rest of the leadership. I’ve competed in tournaments run by leagues.gg for years. Long before they secured the NLC. They’ve been running smaller events in the Danish scene with varying levels of success for a long time. And in all those years, as a player, I genuinely cannot remember a single meaningful public interaction with the people actually running it. Not on Twitter, not in community discussions, not in open dialogue with players. So imagine my surprise when I opened LinkedIn. It’s not that Mathias Horn doesn’t believe in interaction. It’s that he believes in interaction somewhere else. Open LinkedIn and you see a completely different picture. Larger, polished posts appearing regularly, hundreds of likes, thousands of impressions. Thoughtful reflections on leadership, culture, growth. And consistently engaging, replying positively, supporting colleagues, nurturing professional relationships. He clearly understands the value of interaction. He just prioritizes where he invests it. And that raises the real question: Where do the decision-makers at Riot Games spend more of their time, Twitter or LinkedIn? While we argue on the Rift in League of Legends and debate on Twitter, the real career battles are being won elsewhere. On LinkedIn, you control the narrative, no players replying with receipts, no esport bloggers or even journalists fact-checking you in real time, no frustrated community members ratio-ing your posts. You highlight successes, you frame challenges as growth, you build a personal brand. And to be clear, that’s not accidental. It’s strategic. If your long-term goal is corporate progression, consultation work, larger event partnerships, then nurturing the corporate ecosystem makes sense. It yields visible engagement, measurable metrics, influential eyes on your content. But if you’re running a regional esports league, the primary ecosystem you are supposed to nurture is the players, the fans, the talent, the grassroots scene. And that’s where the disconnect becomes painful. Because when NLC inevitably crashes, and let’s be honest, it feels like it’s heading there, leagues.gg might scale back or even fold. But Mathias Horn will still have a polished LinkedIn presence, a documented leadership narrative, a visible record of “culture building” and “ecosystem development” ready for the next opportunity. We’ve already seen signs of that positioning. Publicly discussing authorship of an “expert rulebook on culture in play”, offering consultation to larger organizers, signalling readiness for the next step. That’s not someone who doesn’t value interaction. That’s someone who values a different audience more. And here’s what makes it hurt even more. We actually had a different model once, when Veteran was involved in shaping the competitive direction of the scene. Someone who built his career inside the ecosystem, through coaching, casting, agencies, content, daily interaction with players and fans. Passion first, community first. And then suddenly, gone. Quietly. Replaced by leadership that excels at corporate visibility, but feels largely absent where the community actually lives. This is the core frustration: Leadership in esports should prioritize passion for the community, proven engagement with players and fans, and deep understanding of the ecosystem. Organizational and corporate skill should amplify that, not replace it. Right now, it feels inverted. Corporate capital first, brand positioning first, career trajectory first. Community engagement, secondary. And maybe that’s the modern esports reality. Maybe regional leagues are stepping stones. But for those of us who actually care about the North, who scrimmed, competed, casted, watched, argued, supported, it’s exhausting to watch something we love feel like a line item in someone else’s portfolio. We don’t need perfect leaders. We need present ones. Because people can tell when they’re being nurtured. And they can tell when they’re being leveraged.