Andrew Quang, as drawn by Richard Chan of NYC
It is July 2015. We’re in Kickstarter’s Brooklyn headquarters, the crowd of spectators dispersing after the last match of the tournament. My New York team had just lost to the Chicago team queened by Andrew Quang, and we were in shock. Hours before we had just knocked them into loser’s bracket in an epic 5-game series, only for them to come back and wipe the floor with us in Grand Finals - twice.
Our speed warrior Tiana Tan shakes me in quasi-fury. “It was because of you! You just needed to stay alive!” I can only nod. She’s right, after all.
Andrew turns to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Nah,” he says. “Only a queen would understand. Heavy is the crown.”
_______
It is nighttime, April 2016. About a dozen of us are in Chinatown Fair, NYC, scrimmaging before our big Coronation tournament. I’m playing Gold Queen, practicing my “stick” over and over. A Blue speed warrior comes out of nowhere and sticks perfectly to the ceiling, wiping me out while I try to turn and run. I was on last life - game over.
Cheers erupt from the other side of the cabinet.
“Fuck yeah!” “That’s right, fuck you!” “Fucking stiiiick!!”
It’s just practice, I think. It doesn’t matter. But I’m gritting my teeth as I start the next game.
I would not win a game again that night.
_______
It is around 2am, October 2015. We - Brian Wong, Andrew Quang, and me - are drunkenly stumbling from Chicago’s Logan Arcade, finally leaving after playing in the KQX tournament. Our mission is to find food and company, but the games weigh heavy in our thoughts. We walk in silence until Andrew turns to me.
“Dude, you wrecked me tonight.”
I shrug, but smile. My team had swept his out of the tournament earlier.
“No, dude,” he says. “I’m so glad that you’re the one who wrecked me tonight. ‘Cause we get it. Old queens like us? We die hard.”
_______
It is nighttime August 2016, the Monday before KQ15. I’m just outside Uptown Arcade, where a bunch of players are smoking after practicing for the big tournament on Saturday. One of them turns to me.
“Kang! You gave me your back in there. I killed it.”
I nod, laughing. “Yeah, you’re pretty scary. Just wanted to run away at the first sight of you.”
The smile on his face starts off slowly, accelerating into a giant grin. “Yeah, you know, Andrew and Cesar? I killed both of them my first time Queening. Blew right through ‘em.”
I can only shake my head. “You know this is, like, the third time you’ve told me.”
Michael Esparza’s grin is now massive. “Yeah. ‘Cause I want you to know it. When I’m drunk you know, I can hang with the best, man.”
“Yeah, Andrew? He’s scared of me too.”
_______
It is nighttime, August 13, 2016. I’m leaning against one of the pinball machines in Logan Arcade, watching the folks from Charlotte freeplay post-tournament. A few minutes before Andrew had just been hoisted up on the shoulders of the crowd as his team claimed yet another tournament win. He seemed pissed, as if affronted that it took so long for his team to win in the finals, barely feeling the handshakes and hugs that come his way. I’m still musing at that look when there’s a tap at my shoulder.
I turn to see Andrew, beer in hand, much less angry this time. The look on his face reminds me of a conversation we’d had a few days before at Logan’s League Night.
“Yeah, superteams?” he had said then. “I feel like they’re so good for the scene. Like, something for people to beat and aspire to and get better against.”
He pauses.
“Plus, the pressure, having a target on your back, that’s a great feeling.”
I shake my head. “It’s tiring, man. It’s not that way much anymore, but for a long time I was just done with that shit.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I get that, man.”
But now the pressure is gone, the tournament win is in hand, and he’s come to say something completely ridiculous.
“Hey, this win was all you, dude.”
I shake my head. How could it have been me?
“What the hell are you talking about? You won the thing.”
“No. Serious. You came here and wiped the floor with me last time. Losing to you made me focus. Made me better."
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
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