Exit Interview: Anthony 'vanity' Malaspina

When I started watching Valorant esports in 2021, Anthony “vanity” Malaspina was a near-immediate standout. He had a mischievous charm, quick to jump out of his seat to jeer at an opponent. Every team he led seemed within spitting distance of greatness. Oh, and also, he wore cat ears on stage.

In 2023, vanity was poised to lead a super-team. Cloud9, the organization he played for, had picked up a pro widely considered to be among the best in the world: Jaccob "yay" Whiteaker. It fell apart as quickly as it came together. In March, after just one international event, both yay and vanity were unceremoniously dropped from the team. Cloud9’s public explanation for the moves — “role issues” — was viewed with suspicion.

Vanity soldiered on, finding a spot in tier 2 with Shopify Rebellion. Later, in 2024, he was invited back to Cloud9. But the spark was gone. In February, he announced he would be stepping away from esports to finish his degree. In early May, we spoke about that decision — and about the bombshell roster move that irreversibly changed the trajectory of his career.

The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.¹

Vanity: I think a lot of people in esports have to come from a pretty supportive background, especially now.

ReaderGrev: Why do you say that?

Vanity: At least in America, you need to have the time and the capabilities — like a PC-stable internet and things like that — to make it possible. There’s work, there's school, and there's competing. I don't think you can do all three. And I think to be able to survive as a human, you have to have someone that's willing to help you with one of the three.

You mentioned once that your uncles and your stepdad competed in Counter-Strike early on.

Vanity: They played 1.6. They played on like a CAL open team, if you even know what that is. CAL-IM, something like that, like the original Counter-Strike competitive circuit.

Was that your gateway into esports?

Vanity: That played a factor, I guess. I played scrims and stuff when I was really young, just for fun. And then I stopped gaming. I switched to console games for a long time.

And then I was on the internet and I saw Call of Duty and [James "Clayster" Eubank]. He was the first pro I remember being a fan of. I saw COD competitive so I started doing that, and I competed for like a year. I almost placed pro, I placed top 28 I think, and then the next year they added an age restriction, so I ended up switching to Counter-Strike. I really didn't take it serious for a long time. Honestly, I probably quit like 35 times, maybe more. I’m not even exaggerating. I quit so much.

Why were you quitting all the time?

Vanity: I was just a teenager. Mentally unstable.

I took a six month break after high school to pursue [esports] to see if I actually liked it and thought it was something I would want to do. I have to be thankful for my parents, obviously. That kind of ties back to what I was talking about: You have to have a support structure. Most people wouldn't have the opportunity to do that. [In those six months] I think I beat a few pro teams.

Then I went back to school full time. I was taking like 20 credits. We made Pro League relegation and I had to drop out [of school] because my professor wouldn't let me take my final early. That was really awesome. I wasted like $2,000. But it's fine. I knew I was going pro. There was no doubt in my mind.

I was doing some research into your earlier career and I found this photo of you. You had just won some local Call of Duty event in Washington.

Vanity: Oh yeah! I think I was… [muttering the Google search:] Black Ops III release… I was sixteen.

You’re holding a big check.

Vanity: Yeah, the check is for like $750, I think.

On the check, you're named as Shane Malaspina, not Anthony. Why did you go from Shane to Anthony?

Vanity: Shane's my legal first name. Anthony's my middle name. And I've always gone by Anthony. I don't know my dad and I was named after my dad. My mom's always called me Anthony. And I guess the older I get the less I… I don't really care. It's whatever. I'm not gonna correct someone anymore. I used to be pretty anal about it, but the older I've gotten the less I've cared.

You were anal about being called Anthony?

Vanity: Yeah.

Because of your dad?

Vanity: Yeah, I mean, I've met the guy like two times. He left my mom and she was like 16. So can't really have much respect for him.

That’s brutal. That’s really tough.

Vanity: It is what it is. My mom did the best she could. I've had a good life.

Can you tell me why you're leaving esports?

Vanity: Honestly, I've never been fully encompassed in it. Pretty much every year of my career since 2019 I've considered just stopping. It's just so inconsistent. Not much of it is in your control. And it's not fun living like that.

I played last year just to see if I could regain my desire to want to compete. But after the 2023 Cloud9 situation, I have had quite literally zero interest in playing. Like, I kept trying things to see if it would bring it back. The Shopify thing, I think, was just a mistake on my part. I wasn't ready to play on a team. And then I went back to C9. I had no… I wanted to care. I wanted to try, but… Like, I still tried. It just wasn't what I know I'm capable of.

And then after that, I was like: Maybe I just don't like Valorant. Maybe I just hate the format. And then I played Counter-Strike for like three months. I dunno, it doesn't... I think esports in general, because there's so much money in it now, people tend to be a lot more selfish, which, I can't blame [them]. There's no spots. Especially in Valorant, there's like 30 spots. And there's not much money in tier 2. So if you want a living, you have to be selfish to get to the higher levels.

I went pro playing with four of my best friends and none of us really cared about what we looked like on paper. We just wanted to win as a team. And I don't think that's really a thing anymore. Or it's very, very hard to find. And yeah, that was the biggest reason. Like the camaraderie aspect, I feel like it's just not the same.

What did it feel like losing your passion for the game?

Vanity: I mean, it sucked. I spent three years trying to get a roster together — a core of players — and I get to play with them for one event and then I'm cut. Definitely wasn't fun. And now they're all doing… I mean [Jordan "Zellsis" Montemurro] has won an event. [Nathan "leaf" Orf] should probably win an event. Erick "Xeppaa" Bach is Xeppaa; he’s still good, but he's stuck in a loop.

I've always been pretty level-headed when it comes to how I look at things. I know I'll be okay regardless. It was never something that weighed on me super hard, if that makes sense. I feel like if you're able to do something at such a high level, as long as you can apply yourself to something else you'll be okay. And maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm stupid. But I think it'll be fine. It was never like, a big moment for me. It's just, I kind of realized over time that I didn't have much interest anymore.

I did want to ask about what happened with Cloud9 in 2023. It seems to me that there was never a full accounting of what exactly happened there.

Vanity: I have no clue. I don't even know why I got cut. The only thing that I can assume is… This is no ill will toward [2023 C9 head coach Matthew "mCe" Elmore], I still like mCe, I would still consider him a friend. I just think he didn't want me anymore. It's fine. It's understandable. I just wish it was communicated better.

I genuinely to this day still don't know what happened. Like I actually have zero clue, which sucks. But I mean, it is what it is. You're not going to get answers to everything in life.

Tell me a little bit about how you were dropped. What was that meeting like? What were you told?

Vanity: First off, I was fully cut. Me and Jaccob "yay" Whiteaker were both fully gone. And the players were like: Why are we cutting him? Then mCe agreed to trial me and other in-game leaders. I think I played like two days, and I played with — no shade to Hasan "BlackHeart" Hammad — but one of my days was with BlackHeart who was like a tier 3 player at the time. Don't really know if that's completely fair, but it is what it is. I could have done better, of course, always can do better. [The scrims] went okay, nothing great, nothing bad.

One day they asked to talk to me. I mean, they didn't even have to say anything. I'm not stupid. You're not going to ask to talk to me if I'm not cut, you're just going to tell me I’m on the team. And I was like, all right, so I'm gone. That was really it. Maybe I didn't give them room to talk. But I feel like they still could have talked.

That's really, really unusual. I assumed there would be more finality, or maybe they would tell you more about their decision-making process.

Vanity: I think it was uncomfortable because me and mCe were close. We've been friends for a long time. So I imagine it's uncomfortable. Like, I can't blame him at all. It sucks for my career, but like, I have no hard feelings, I guess.

C9 brought you back in 2024. What was that like?

Vanity: Horrible. Not because of them. Genuinely, I had trauma. I go quiet when I get upset, and it was really, really bad on that team.

I just felt so on edge at all times. Like, my assumption for why I got cut is like, I would get annoyed at people sometimes — but I’ve played with leaf, Xeppaa and Zellsis for so long that I know that I'm not gonna push them over the edge by asking them what happened or telling them they're wrong. Like, they'll do the same to me. It's a respect thing. We know each other, our limits. And that's how I've always communicated: very blunt, straightforward. And I'm assuming that probably played a part in it. Like, I'm a bit of an asshole, I guess, but it's how I've had success. And then last year, instead of vocalizing what I think we should be doing, I would just let it happen and go quiet. I think it's because I didn't want to be cut for what I presumed was the reason I got cut the year before, if that makes sense. I didn't realize that until a couple of months ago.

I don't regret playing, don't get me wrong. I have zero regrets about playing. I just wish I would have realized why I had the communication issues earlier.

After Valorant, you had a brief period playing Counter-Strike 2, and there were reports that TSM was interested in the roster you were putting together. What happened there?

Vanity: I'm not sure why reporters made it seem like it was a done deal or something. I was talking to them; they were talking to a lot of teams.

I was talking to a bunch of different orgs, but after like two or three months I told [my Counter-Strike teammate] Edgar "MarKE" Maldonado — who was one of my favorite teammates I've ever had — I was like, I don't think I can do this anymore. And as soon as he said it was fine, I'm like, yeah, it's not worth it. I play because I like competing, and if I can't put my full effort in there's no reason for me to compete.

Can you tell me a little bit about what it was like looking for organizations or sponsors in Counter-Strike? I've heard pretty grim things about the state of North American Counter-Strike.

Vanity: I think these players are absurdly unrealistic with their asks. I'm not going to say numbers or anything, but I'm close with some of the management that I've talked to, and they gave me rough ballparks of what teams were asking and it's outrageous. Like, these people are asking for way more money than they have ever proved to be worth.

There's orgs out there, but you have to lower your expectations. You're not going to be getting paid full-time money if you guys don't deserve it — you haven't proven it. The money doesn't come before the results anymore. It used to, but not that's how esports is anymore.

Do you know where these expectations are coming from?

Vanity: Delusion is the only thing I could guess. I genuinely don't know.

You were a prolific trash-talker in Valorant. I feel like a lot of players these days, they trash talk to their teammates: It's all on the internal comms, it's not directed at the other team. And you were always up out of your seat, a big presence on the stage. Why did you do it?

Vanity: It makes people interested in your games, more than just being good at a video game. It gives them a reason to click. I also come from Call of Duty; in console esports in general, people tend to be like that.

As to why I think a lot of people keep it to their team, it's because I don't think they have self-confidence. They have zero confidence in themselves, it's like imposter syndrome. They don't have confidence to talk about other people because [they’re like]: Oh, if I lose, oh my god, what are they gonna think of me?

At the end of the day, it's an entertainment industry. You are an entertainer. Obviously, competing matters, getting results matters, but like — you're going to get paid more money if people watch your games more. That's just how it works. It makes viewers like or hate you; they build a relationship with you. Either way, if they support you or don't like you, they're going to watch your games.

Did you like the fact that there were so many fans who seemed to have really extreme opinions about you?

Vanity: I think it’s hilarious. It's a lot worse in Valorant; the fans act like they have any clue how the pros are as human beings. It's the weirdest thing ever, in my opinion. Half of the people that they probably think are the nicest people ever, probably aren't. I feel like an easy example is [Joshua "steel" Nissan]. Everyone hates steel. He is one of the nicest people I've ever met in my entire life.² Same thing with Zellsis. Some of the most caring human beings I've met. But publicly, they're either loved or hated. There's no in-between.

It feels as though that bubble gets popped every now and again. People feel very surprised when they learn new information about a player that goes against what they expected.

Vanity: I completely agree with you. I think that kind of ties back into what I was saying earlier, that a lot of [players] have some form of imposter syndrome, or whatever you want to call it. They're just not confident in who they are as people. And I think that makes it so they tend to hide everything [about themselves from] their fans. And that's something that I've never wanted to be like. I don't want fans because I’m pretending to be something I'm not. I want you to like me for who I am, not for some random little snippet you get to see of me every six months.

Now that you’re leaving esports, what’s next for you?

Vanity: I'm studying for my finance degree and I'm doing some cyber security certifications on the side to see if I like it more. I'm not rushed because I have money to survive for a good amount of time while I figure out what I want to do.

Are those things you’re passionate about?

Vanity: No. I really don't care what I do for my job, I'll be completely honest with you. It's just a job. I am completely aware I'll probably never find anything that I get to do that I enjoy as much as I did competing, but it's not really a worry for me. As long as I don't have to work 80 hours a week, I'll be fine. I want to work 40, 50 hours a week and then just be done. It would be nice for a change.

I'm guessing that wasn’t possible when you were competing.

Vanity: I think it can be. But when I was super active, I would do one hour before [practice] with my coach, and then we would do seven or eight hours of practice on team stuff. Then I would try to stream four hours every day, roughly. So I would probably [work] 12 hours a day, six days a week. I would say that's pretty accurate for what I did for like a year and a half to two years in Valorant.

That shit's miserable, bro, I'm not gonna lie. But I mean obviously — fortunately — I was playing a video game and wasn't doing anything hard, like physically, but it was still mentally difficult.

Are you happy that you spent those two or so years that way?

Vanity: Yeah, of course. I have no regrets. Genuinely none.

Totally fine if you don't answer this, but can you tell me a little bit about how well you were paid at C9? I have no sense whatsoever — and I think most people who follow esports have no sense whatsoever — of the kind of money a pro makes.

Vanity: Low six figures That's the most I'll share.

Did you feel you were living comfortably in Los Angeles on that money? [ed. note: the North American Valorant league is based in LA.]

Vanity: I had to pay for my own apartment, which was a nice little $4,200 a month for rent, bills, car insurance — and I could pay that. The only downside is I couldn't save much money. Every other year in esports I would save 70% of my paychecks. So that was a little not nice, but I can't complain.

That’s fair! The question wasn’t even super about complaints. I think that people just really do not know anything about how esports works, how pros live — good or bad.

Vanity: I think it varies a lot between the orgs. I also think that the standard of living probably went down a fair amount after the esports bubble popped. I would assume if you're looking at the League of Legends pros that lived in LA from like, 2018 to 2022, which was probably the prime of the bubble, they were living unbelievably. The money that those people were making was just fucking absurd. That's just not the reality of it anymore.

But most teams still make good money and housing is typically paid for. C9 was always really good about how they treated us. Like, I know they fucked me, but I have nothing bad to say about the org.

Post scriptum: Valorant subreddit limits threads on Saudi-run Esports World Cup

A week ago, the mods of r/ValorantCompetitive — the main subreddit for Valorant esports — announced that they would be limiting posts about the Saudi-run Esports World Cup, which will feature Valorant for the first time this year. The mods justified it on the grounds that the Esports World Cup is a Saudi sportswashing effort, and cited two of my stories in their decision: this (e)sportswashing reading list and my reporting on the dismay felt by broadcast talent that works with Riot over the developer’s three-year partnership with the Esports World Cup. (I also sort of broke the news that Valorant was finally coming to the EWC. Sort of.)

I wanted to weigh in… very briefly.

I was a Columbia student in the early ‘10s, when the campus was riven by questions relating to affirmative consent, the concept of “rape culture” and protest actions over supposedly unjust university policies relating to sexual assault on campus. In those years, there were two major protest groups focused on these issues: one that lobbied the administration and university senate and various student council, that filed forms and sought permits and hosted teach-ins; and a louder, more radical group with louder iconography, that opted for controversial actions that included handing out fliers about the aforementioned issues to prospective students visiting campus.

There was a lot of hand-wringing in those years about which group was “doing it right” — concern trolling about what kind of protest was helpful versus harmful. (I did it too.) But in truth, the groups worked in tandem, a kind of balanced ecosystem of activism. The moderate group was able to more effectively lobby the university because it was seen as a less-extreme alternative to the louder group, while the radical group was viewed by some victims and their advocates as a more genuine and urgent expression of student anguish and frustration with the university.

I don’t really have it in me, temperamentally, to care about good or bad optics. Similarly to what I wrote about in the previous edition of this newsletter, I do not imagine whether protests are negatively polarizing some other person. I tend to have a pretty good idea of where I stand on most issues. Will some-such protest move the proverbial needle? Beats me. Is “internet activism” counterproductive and/or ineffective and/or mere virtue signaling? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I am not super interested in these questions these days; It is a convenient way to talk around the issue.

Is limiting posts about a blatant Saudi sportswashing operation lazy activism? So far, it’s the only activism on the issue. Think the mods’ new rules are insufficiently effective? Up the ante. Chain yourself to the doors of the Riot Games Arena.

In 2016, a group of Columbia students occupied an administrative building in a bid to induce the University to seriously negotiate with them over a proposal that would see the school divest from fossil fuel companies. In retrospect, their insistence and approach were obviously noble. But at the time, they were threatened with suspensions and scolded by administrators who told them there were better ways to do activism. They were the subjects of nasty, condescending write-ups in right-wing publications. Of course, just a few years later, Columbia did, in fact, divest from fossil fuels. (I’m a bit rusty on the details, but if I remember correctly, the sit-in did in fact speed up negotiations). Somehow, contemporaneously, activism is never right. It’s only right in retrospect.

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1. Editing an interview always feels a little weird, but for transparency’s sake, my changes are largely focused on cleaning up “ums,” “likes” and “ahs,” whittling down questions to let you get to the answers faster, and cutting certain parts of answers (or entire exchanges) that are redundant or irrelevant or which make sense over audio but not over text. My goal is never to change the meaning of what’s been said to me.

2. Speaking of steel, here’s an all-timer Counter-Strike shit-talk clip (featuring steel killing vanity in-game). Don’t play this on speaker in a public place.