On August 28th, the VCT China franchise FunPlus Phoenix released an official announcement confirming they had severed all ties with their in-game leader and controller player, Blendi “kovaQ” Kovaci. The organization stated that the decision followed “unsuitable comments” made by the player when communicating with team members during a match.
Consequently, FPX conducted a joint internal review alongside Riot Games prior to parting ways with the competitor. Moving forward, the franchise declared plans to enhance their player guidance programs and internal oversight, while also voicing remorse over the unfavorable consequences sparked by kovaQ’s behavior.
“We will complete the necessary arrangements for upcoming competitions in accordance with the league’s final decision and regulations,” the organization stated.
Nevertheless, this scenario reflects an ongoing trend within competitive gaming. Although pro players are pressured to act professionally during official matches, they occasionally fall short of maintaining those expectations in less public environments.
The outcome? A single instance of bad decision-making can trigger immediate benchings, tournament bans, canceled brand deals, and sometimes, the permanent conclusion of a professional career.
Following such events, competitors are typically left facing severe remorse, a sentiment clearly reflected in the public statement released by kovaQ:
“Hello everyone, I wanted to apologize for what I wrote. I sent something to my teammate that was inappropriate towards a lot of people. In that moment, I meant it as a joke, but looking back at it, I deeply regret ever writing it.
“I committed an error that should never have happened, and I accept absolute accountability for my actions. I am grateful to FPX for giving me the chance to join this roster and for all the support they provided,” he concluded.
Whenever controversies like this unfold, an obvious question arises: why does the competitive gaming sector continue to neglect the implementation of robust public relations and code-of-conduct training?
Competitive gaming franchises continue to neglect media relations education
In the world of esports, professional players juggle multiple identities: they are top-tier athletes, content creators, live streamers, internet personalities, corporate partners, and the primary public representatives of their respective franchises.
Even so, while organizations allocate massive budgets toward tactical coaching, data analysis, physical wellness, and state-of-the-art practice houses, a vital component remains largely underfunded: formal media training and communication skill development.
Because of this gap, numerous competitors and teams have suffered major fallout. Back in 2023, Japanese VALORANT professional Kim “TenTen” Tae-young had his contract terminated by NORTHEPTION following offensive racial remarks during a competitive ranked queue. Consequently, Riot Games handed him a four-match suspension in the VCT.
Similarly, in 2020, Overwatch League pro Park “Viol2t” Min-ki received monetary fines and a temporary ban from the San Francisco Shock due to his reoccurring toxic behavior and offensive language during his personal live streams.
We must also recall the severe financial blow dealt to Team Liquid when automotive giant Honda canceled their six-year marketing alliance. This decision was triggered by an offensive social media post from Rainbow Six Siege player Lucas “DiasLucasBr” Dias, which targeted Japanese competitors insensitively.
On a personal note, I have occasionally witnessed players displaying blatant disrespect toward members of the press in post-match conferences. I recall a specific incident where a player publicly labeled a colleague’s question as “stupid” with an aggressive attitude and declined to respond, despite the inquiry being perfectly reasonable and entirely non-confrontational.
While critics might claim such outbursts are merely the byproduct of competitive stress following a loss, it is important to point out that competitors have the option to opt out of media availabilities and interview requests if they feel emotionally unequipped to engage with journalists.
From casual gaming to the pro spotlight: an abrupt transition
Fundamentally, competitive gamers typically launch their professional careers during their youth, which is typical for an industry where individuals in their early thirties are viewed as veterans. Furthermore, a vast majority of these youths have spent their formative years isolated in front of computer screens, relying on Discord, streaming chats, and online forums rather than developing face-to-face social skills.
Consequently, when they make the leap into structured corporate esports, the transition can feel intensely jarring.
Additionally, many competitive clubs continue to value mechanical talent, strategic insight, and scoreboard results above all other traits. Vital soft skills—like interpersonal communication and proper behavior—frequently take a backseat, meaning the organization’s PR staff is only deployed as a damage-control measure once a scandal erupts and fans express outrage.
Essentially, an ordinary adolescent accustomed to playing ranked matches in the privacy of their bedroom is overnight thrust into representing a multi-million dollar brand before an audience of millions.
Beyond that, they are suddenly tasked with answering reporter questions, participating in live broadcasts, maintaining streaming schedules, curating social media profiles, and satisfying brand partner agreements, typically without any prior coaching.
This reality poses a significant issue, as these young players have spent years steeped in the unregulated, toxic communication styles typical of online gaming. Ultimately, mastery of a video game does not equate to natural proficiency in corporate public relations.
Nonetheless, these soft skills are entirely teachable.
Athletes require mentorship, not merely discipline
Poor conduct by a single roster member does not just jeopardize their own future; it impacts the entire ecosystem around them. Corporate sponsors seek more than raw viewership metrics; they aim to cultivate positive community relationships, which renders the public reception of both the player and the franchise absolutely vital.
This does not mean esports teams must implement the elaborate training programs found in legacy athletics. Instead, simple, ongoing workshops addressing constructive criticism, learning when to post versus staying silent, and basic crisis resolution tactics would suffice.
Admittedly, some positive strides are underway. Modern player contracts increasingly feature strict behavioral clauses, tournament operators routinely enforce penalties for code violations, and several teams now collaborate with sports psychologists to guide their rosters and coaching staffs.
Still, the primary objective must be to foster genuine empathy and personal responsibility within players, helping them comprehend the gravity of their mistakes to prevent future occurrences.
Ultimately, media training shouldn’t aim to turn gamers into rigid, corporate automatons; rather, it should be framed as a tool for protecting their own professional longevity.
To be clear, this does not mean eliminating competitive banter, which remains a core element of gaming culture. The objective is simply to teach competitors where playful trash-talking ends and real-world hostility begins.
The situation involving FPX and kovaQ serves as a stark reminder that in-game talent is only half the equation. Until esports organizations prioritize proper PR instruction and professional guidelines, the industry remains only a short distance away from its next major controversy, suspension, or contract voiding.
