“Los Ratones will beat T1,” I emphatically tell my partner. We’re eating ‘Christmas Disco Brunch’ in a West End cinema turned student hangout in Glasgow, sounding like two esports-obsessed zoomers, while simultaneously realizing we’re probably two of the oldest people in the room. He frowns and goes back to his chicken and waffles: “You’re huffing some serious hopium, Lauren,” he retorts. “T1 are the reigning League of Legends World Champions; they’re hardly going to be beaten by Los Ratones.” He still asks me to pick him up a LR Red Bull t-shirt, though.
For those unaware, Los Ratones is the chaotic brainchild of former pro player turned Twitch sensation Marc ‘Caedrel’ Lamont. Bringing together iconic League of Legends streamers like Simon ‘Thebausffs’ Hofverberg and Tim ‘Nemesis’ Lipovšek with veterans Martin ‘Rekkles’ Larsson, Juš ‘Crownie’ Marušič, and newcomer Veljko ‘Velja’ Čamdžić, Los Ratones almost resembles a one-and-done streaming stunt.
And yet, they just beat the MOBA’s reigning World Champions. Sure, it was League of Its Own, a friendly competition. Sure, T1 weren’t playing their primary roles. It doesn’t matter, though: Los Ratones beat T1, and Baus soloed Lee ‘Faker’ Sang-hyeok. That’s the headline. And it’s compounded by G2 Esports and Karmine Corp’s subsequent losses. Of all the games T1 played that day, it was Caedrel’s merry band of misfits that genuinely seemed to make them sweat.
Los Ratones is, quite simply, something special. But why? What is it that has led a ragtag band of streamers and pros onto a global stage with over 240,000 viewers? The answer is ‘everything.’
I want to start with Los Ratones’ ‘MO.’ From the onset, Caedrel stated that the team would stream their scrims, be open about their drafting, and really showcase what it means to be a professional League of Legends team. Instead of reserving analytical conversations for the shadows of the backstage area, Caedrel’s vision is transparency; a strategy with clear pros and cons.
The pitfalls are obvious: you’re willingly handing your plans to your enemies on a silver platter live on-stream. As an avid NFL fan, I’ve seen the lengths that coaches and analysts go to keep their strategies secret, and LoL esports is no different. On paper, Caedrel’s tactics sound ludicrous.
In practice, however, it’s worked out shockingly well. Los Ratones has a system of alluding to champs but not naming them and makes heavy use of Discord to keep picks obscured. When drafting, Caedrel cuts the stream’s feed, meaning the audience can’t see anything. It allows LR to maintain that transparency while simultaneously being entertaining. The net result is positive: LR maintains competitive integrity and brings its viewership along for the ride.
In some ways, this model makes Los Ratones subversive: the team is showing you a side of esports you aren’t meant to see. That’s enticing, it breaks the norm, and it’s making for a great business model. If the titanic personalities alone don’t quite lure viewers in, the idea that you’re actually seeing how a competitive team works will. It’s like looking up through the smog of Zaun and seeing the shimmering gold of Piltover for the first time. The veil has parted and, oddly enough, I’ve found myself becoming a better, more analytical player as a result of watching LR’s scrims.
But this is all nitty-gritty esports nerd stuff: none of it matters if the team is bad. At first glance, it isn’t exactly clear how all of these pieces fit together. Baus is a solo-queue player first and foremost: he picks his Sion, builds lethality, and tears down towers by splitpushing – he doesn’t spring to mind when I think ‘teamfight.’ Similarly, Nemesis’ professional run ended back in 2020 following an explosive first year with Fnatic but a somewhat disappointing second season. Crownie has spent most of last year on BDS’ bench, and Rekkles, while showing up and shutting down with T1 Academy, hasn’t had a stable roster since his glorious Fnatic days. By comparison to all of those, Velja is a relative unknown.
On paper, you’d be forgiven for shouting ‘hah, washed.’ There are a lot of strong players out there looking for teams – why not pick up Marcin ‘Jankos’ Jankowski in the jungle, or Luka ‘Perkz’ Perković if you fancy a G2 reunion? I don’t pretend to be privy to why Caedrel chose these players, but what I can tell you is that it’s working. Each member of Los Ratones’ ‘special skill’ is their inability to quit. On games I’d have FF’d, LR plows on regardless, oftentimes turning them on their head and taking the win. That relentlessness is a unique skill on its own, but as a viewer, it’s also exciting; you simply can’t count them out.
Going back to the T1 game, for example, everything started out shaky – especially for Baus. As the solo player, he’s always somewhat a coinflip: which Baus has shown up today? Having taken a beating early, he quickly became the game’s win condition – something that perplexes new fans but is very much his signature playstyle. Either way, it’s equal parts terrifying and exciting to watch.
Then there was Rekkles’ Janna. We’ve not seen much of him since he headed off to Korea, ushering in a million questions about whether or not he’s ‘good’ anymore, or if his stint on Los Ratones is kicking off the death march of his career. But the Rekkles we saw during League of Its Own is the Rekkles we saw back on Fnatic in 2015 and 2016, carrying on Janna of all champions, then scoring two wins with T1 to close out the night. For many, Rekkles was both the draw to Los Ratones and its perceived curse, and he’s shown up and shut down.
It’s no secret that LR has a penchant for throwing away massive teamfights but somehow always manages to dig their claws in and crawl back into the game. Baus’ death-heavy playstyle immediately leads to you rolling your eyes and going ‘here we go again,’ but by the 15-minute mark, he’s one-shotting Kayns and, well, killing Faker. It makes them exciting and entirely unpredictable. In fact, I’ve watched more of their stuff in a single month than I have Riot’s esports content throughout 2024.
I’m not sure what eerie rat powers he’s drawn on to do it, but Caedrel has created something special with Los Ratones. The funny ha-ha streamer squad isn’t just a collection of misfit toys: it’s a genuinely competitive, exciting team to watch. We’ve only seen the team on-stage once, but it’s slated to compete competitively next year, and I know I’ll be watching.
I’ve fallen off of LoL esports lately, bored by a somewhat confused LEC schedule and one-sided Worlds tournaments. While Los Ratones is hardly going to be jetting out to Chengdu to duke it out with T1 for the Summoner’s Cup, the squad’s piqued my interest more than any other team since the G2 glory days. Where LoL esports feels like it’s stagnating, LR is a much-needed breath of fresh air. Esports is only getting stronger, though with that reach comes a slide into a predictable formula. Thankfully, Los Ratones is anything but conventional.
So, while it’s slated to arrive in January, I can’t wait to don my LR t-shirt and strap in for what looks to be the wildest ride we’ve seen in esports for a while. Next Christmas Disco Brunch, I’ll request they put LR on the screen instead of just the average run-of-the-mill crackling fireplace – after all, Caedrel and co are bringing the fire, and they’re set to burn it all down.