Almost Won: A Communication Lesson from League of Legends
Afraid of getting flamed, I stayed muted for 20 minutes. A team without communication will lose even at the enemy inhibitor.
That ranked game, we had already pushed to their inhibitor. Really, it was just one teamfight away.
And then we lost.
Nidalee Toyed With Me
I was top lane. The enemy had Nidalee.
Nidalee, if you know, you know. Poke, jump away. You turn around, she pokes again. You can never touch her. She’s that kind of “you can’t hit me but I can annoy the hell out of you” champion.
Honestly, I didn’t fall behind in CS. I got every minion I should’ve gotten. But she kept poking me — tap, tap, tap — pure psychological torture. I couldn’t kill her. I couldn’t catch her. All I could do was watch her bounce around in front of me.
To be fair, she didn’t really get ahead either — she was so busy poking me that she missed a ton of CS herself. Economically, we were about even. But emotionally? Getting kited like that, I was about to lose my mind.
There Was a Twitch Chat in My Head
You know that feeling? When your lane is miserable and a comment section starts running in your brain:
“Great, my teammates are definitely watching me.” “They’re definitely thinking, what is this trash top laner doing.” “Am I dragging the team down.”
In reality, my teammates hadn’t said a word. They were focused on their own lanes. But my brain had already written their lines for them.
So I shut my mouth.
20 Minutes of Single-Player Mode
I made a decision that felt very “considerate” at the time — I went silent.
No typing, no voice, no pings, no “assist needed.” Whatever happened top lane, I dealt with it alone. Getting pressured? Suck it up.
Twenty minutes.
A full twenty minutes. In a five-player game, I played solo.
You think I was “not burdening my teammates”? No. I was cutting every line of communication and calling it “being considerate.”
The Dragon Pit Fight
Later, we found ourselves at the dragon pit.
My friend pinged the dragon — the meaning was clear: pull it out and fight. I saw it. I was about to pull.
But because I’d been silent for 20 minutes, we had no synergy left. I hesitated. I didn’t move immediately. That one moment of hesitation threw everything off.
Then I saw another teammate getting focused nearby. On instinct, I turned to help them. The dragon was still in the pit, not pulled. Complete chaos.
We barely secured the dragon. The enemy Miss Fortune was charging her ult in the back trying to steal. I rushed her to stop the channel. She flashed away and escaped. I thought: fine, retreat, we got the dragon, that’s enough.
I was ready to pull back.
But my friend went in alone.
He didn’t type “I’m going in.” I didn’t type “Fall back.” Twenty minutes of silence — all of it became the price, in that one moment.
He died. We couldn’t follow up. The teamfight collapsed.
The Review
Later, we talked.
No complaints. No “why didn’t you just—” None of that. Just calmly walking through the teamfight, moment by moment.
He said he wanted me to pull the dragon; he pinged it. I said I saw it, but I was too slow. He said when he chased Miss Fortune, he wanted me to follow. I said I thought she escaped and we should retreat.
Everything was “I thought.”
I thought he wanted to fight. He thought I wanted to retreat. I thought the dragon was enough. He thought we could chase. Not a single word was spoken. All guesswork.
Then we started talking about how we each felt during that game.
He told me he was playing Shyvana early game — weak as hell, couldn’t beat anyone, tons of pressure on him too. I told him I got kited by Nidalee the entire game, couldn’t kill her or catch her, nearly mentally broke.
After saying it all — I realized he had it hard too. I thought I was the only one suffering. Turns out everyone has their own struggle.
He understood my pain of getting kited by Nidalee. I understood his pain of Shyvana’s weak early game. We didn’t blame each other. If anything, that review made us understand each other better.
We lost that game. But we learned something. That’s worth more than a win.
Almost Won
We were at their inhibitor. So close.
But behind “so close” — it wasn’t mechanics. It wasn’t team comp. It was 20 minutes of silence, all detonating in one critical moment at the dragon pit.
I thought about it for a long time afterward and finally understood one thing:
I didn’t go silent because I was afraid of getting flamed. I went silent because I didn’t believe they could understand me.
I thought saying anything would be pointless. I thought “I’m getting wrecked by Nidalee” would just get me laughed at. So I chose silence, thinking silence was dignity.
But silence isn’t dignity. Silence is unilaterally cutting the connection — and then blaming the team for not being in sync.
Next Time
Next time I’m getting kited, I’ll just say it: “Hey bro, Nidalee’s annoying the hell out of me, but I’m keeping up in CS — you guys do your thing.”
Next time we’re at dragon pit, I’ll say it immediately: “Pull the dragon out and fight.”
Next time Miss Fortune flashes away, I’ll say: “Back off, don’t chase.”
Not because I’ve gotten better at the game. Because I finally figured it out — admitting you need to communicate is way harder than pretending you can handle everything alone.
He’s your friend. If you won’t talk to him, who will you talk to?
—Jiahao Ren, May 2026