The Man Behind the Smile

A grin concludes the game, a giggle and clapping hands that radiate almost childish enthusiasm. The very same grin re-surfaces some time later, when the series concludes. herO emerges from the booth, elated and triumphant. If he were someone else, the mood in the arena would have been far less celebratory. Because like a child whose ridiculous antics we can only forgive for how endearing they are, the one-time CJ ace is often given leave to freely violate the norms we have established for what is proper.

Don't get me wrong - herO is unquestioningly polite, and has rarely displayed anything but good moods and contagious smiles. If there is one type of assassination that The Smiling Assassin has never sunk to, it is the assassination of character. He lets the game speak for itself more often than not, and bizarrely seems all the crueler in game the happier his demeanor out of it. For a player famous for his charming smile and affable behavior, herO carries a mean reputation. That Redeye dubbed him an assassin during the 2014 IEM Circuit was more than just spontaneity. The man who would eventually be the first to win three IEM titles was good at many things, but he had a penchant for one in particular: finding the moment to go for the jugular.

Among the things most glorified among Starcraft players, two stand out: being entertaining, and being willing to oblige the standard. Finesse in execution is second to explosive and drawn-out macro play, minute builds far inferior to the games that bounce back and forth because the player with the chance to end it failed to take it. herO continuously defies this norm. Like Life among Zerg players and Mvp among Terrans, herO exhibits the particular ability to not just find a perfect moment, but to seize it. It is different from the antics of sOs, who thrives in absurdity, or PartinG, who often defined tournaments by doing his thing despite being predictable, knowing that the proper control would see his all-ins through no matter what. More so, herO's unerring sense for when the moment is right and his understanding for how to build toward such a moment is his greatest advantage.

Rumors that practice is lacking have always circulated about Korean players. In the days of the old GSL Group Selections, it was as much a joke as it was a calculated ploy. Players would one-up one another in a race towards the bottom, a contest in who could convince the others that they were the worst at the moment. If we were to believe Rain, he could barely practice at all, and somehow every player on SKT kept losing to everyone else in practice. Mvp could barely win a game, yet tournament victories kept coming. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether a player's form was the result of unfavorable conditions, or lacking enthusiasm for practice. herO is no stranger to this tradition, and allegedly has long bouts of little to no practice. The classic image of the Korean (KeSPA-bred) player is one of a practice monster, minted by Flash and Jaedong and their ilk, but spread far and wide in Starcraft II by the stories brought back by foreigners that went to practice overseas for a time. NaNiwa and SaSe would log 30, 40 or more games a day when they worked the hardest in the old StarTale house, and their results would plummet when they abandoned this practice regimen.

It seems crazy that a player would knowingly submit themselves to such a seemingly obvious risk for a downturn. But it has unquestionably happened, and herO has been a recurring offender. A player as hell-bent on fine-tuned execution as he has an even greater need for mechanical precision than most players. The difference between a winning build and a floundered tournament can be decided in measurements of seconds, and the difference is almost always palpable. But skipping out on a few extra games each day is neither strange nor unusual in an environment that promotes grueling work days and offers no tangible limit on how much practice input will produce a positive result output. For most, more practice is better, but there is a caveat: motivation fades.

herO, at his best, radiates enthusiasm. The importance of attitude might be a tired trope, but it is endlessly proven true. The players that put in the most work, the players that perform, are almost invariably the players that feel the most passionate about the endless climb of the ladder. One positive result often leads to another, and the best results tend to cluster. At his best, herO deviates from the expected and embraces the lethal. You can tell not only by the way his results go up and down with seasons, but by the way he surges to the top when he finds his groove. He isn't necessarily a maverick by nature, only one of those players that will abandon a previous game plan in favor of winning now. It is the ultimate goal of every player to be able to secure their victories earlier than expected, but few can do it the way herO does. He is at his best when the stakes are high, when his opponents might be wary of taking risks for fear of throwing everything away. He is at his best when he is allowed to go on the offensive, to relentlessly exploit weaknesses. There are no holds barred when herO plays, no forbidden chapter in the aptly named Book of Protoss Bullshit.

How do you best quantify skill in a player who purposely often plays outside the framework we use to evaluate it? Protoss players more than any other are scrutinized when they rely on aggression, scorched by both peers and fans when they use their toolbox to its fullest potential. Elazer wasn't just making a good-hearted joke when he bemoaned the nature of herO's 'abusive' play. When herO is in his groove, when his practice stars have aligned and his desire for his next trophy is at a peak, there is very little that can be done to stop him, and very few that can do it. And complain as they might, little of it seems to bother him. After all, his own unfortunate history has shown that he can be stopped, and the balls are in the courts of his opponents when it comes to doing it.

herO's career has seen no shortage of triumphs. From his groundbreaking IEM trifecta and his impeccable trustworthiness in Proleague to the championships won on foreign soil, herO has encapsulated many of the virtues of Korean Starcraft. Meticulousness, passion, joviality even when going through the motions of a particularly punishing career choice. He is comfortably in the conversation for Best Protoss players of all time, though he still stands steps away from the coveted podium for which less than a handful can contend. A Starleague champion and globetrotter both, there is no particular fault to his career - only the sense that there is more to be done, and more that could have been done. Perhaps it is a matter of practice and motivation for herO. 2016 stained his resume, stuck between two more successful years. Towards the end of 2017, however, herO looks to be back in tremendous shape. He has hit one of his highs at the exact right moment. In Anaheim, he has been afforded an opportunity: elevation, and achieving unquestionable permanence. When we remember herO in a few years, we may no longer talk of a player with huge ups and downs. We may no longer remember him as a man with a bright smile on his face, but as a World Champion. Whether we like it or not, a tournament like BlizzCon is a lasting legacy. In a heartbeat, he can cease being the player everyone only knew was great, but write in stone that he will never be overshadowed.