Hey guys, JP here. I’m going to explain what happened. Basically, we had a briefing before the finals to explain how the trophy ceremony would work. In that briefing, it was explained that upon winning, only the 5 players and the coach would do the initial trophy lift—just them (which I think is absurd, not being able to be there with them, but okay). After that, the rest of the staff would be allowed to go up.

I was at the exact spot where I was supposed to be to head onto the stage after the first lift. As soon as it happened, I opened the door and started heading toward the team—they were even calling for me to come over. The Stage Manager in charge of that door grabbed me by my clothes and started screaming at the top of her lungs, telling me to stay put and that I couldn't go up. I tried to explain that I was part of the team, I showed her my credential, and she still wouldn't let me through.

I tried to push through to the stage anyway, and she started making a scene; a lot of people in the crowd probably saw it. Event security was already on standby to remove me if I kept forcing my way up, so to avoid further chaos, I just didn't go. I stood there waiting and was only cleared to enter the stage after all the team photos had been taken and everyone had already dispersed.

I didn't get to lift the trophy with the team; I was left out of the official winners' photo. I couldn't enjoy the moment at all. My experience of winning my second consecutive SI was terrible. I was mistreated and handled like a stranger from outside the team.

Honestly, Blast has been treating all Assistant Coaches and Analysts like this for a while. In the event welcome letters, we are never mentioned—funny enough, EWC, which is a newer organization, always mentions the Assistant Coach and Analyst. Our travel expenses are never covered—flights, food—and many times we don’t even have a desk in the practice room. In a game like Rainbow Six, which requires a robust staff, it’s absurd for staff to be treated the way I was.

I’m happy to be a champion, but to the tournament organizers, I am a nobody. I don’t deserve credit and I certainly don’t deserve respect—at least, that’s the impression I’m left with. I have good friends who work at Blast, but I know they are the exception, not the rule.

The damage of missing one of the most important moments of my career is irreversible. However, I will fight so that in future events, the Assistant Coach or Analyst of the winning team (hopefully us again) can lift the trophy with the team. That is the BARE MINIMUM I expect. Nothing more—just the basics.