Football General Manager
AUSTIN, TX — In a room of cameras that weren’t his own, iShowSpeed was skittish. Perhaps he was even nervous. It was a last second media opportunity, arranged shortly before the MLS All Star Game Skills Challenge.
There were whispers for 24 hours that Speed, by some distance the biggest streamer – and in some eyes the most prominent voice – in American soccer, would be willing to step outside of his usual socially curated bubble. And there he was, swaggering into the room with a “What’s up everybody?”
But once the lights were on, he shuffled his feet slightly, looked unsteady. That curated bit, the guy who loves Cristiano Ronaldo and barks a lot, briefly cracked. Then, the questions came.
Content creator: “Would you give up streaming forever if Ronaldo would be your best friend?”
Speed: “No, because I have the ability to make Ronaldo my best friend.”
Content creator: “Call out somebody you want to race right now.”
Speed (with a frustrated groan): “Tyreek Hill it’s happening, it’s happening this year, EVERYBODY want it. So let’s go.”
Some five minutes and two other made-for-TikTok interviews later, he was escorted away. And there he was, standing next to the pitch, clad in MLS All Star gear. Children gathered round, phones out, clamoring for attention. Speed stood, stoic, awaiting his cue.
And then he took over the Skills Challenge. He leapt, bounded and pirouetted onto the field, a string of noises, shouts and gestures. Every camera was on him. Every kid wanted a high five. It was, admittedly, immensely captivating. Here was a 20-year-old from Cincinnati, who two years ago was barking on the Internet and shouting about Ronaldo, taking over an event that wasn’t his.
“He actually tries a lot. He’s a fun guy. We really enjoyed having him here,” FC Cincinnati All-Star Evander said.
AUSTIN, TX — In a room of cameras that weren’t his own, iShowSpeed was skittish. Perhaps he was even nervous. It was a last second media opportunity, arranged shortly before the MLS All Star Game Skills Challenge.
There were whispers for 24 hours that Speed, by some distance the biggest streamer – and in some eyes the most prominent voice – in American soccer, would be willing to step outside of his usual socially curated bubble. And there he was, swaggering into the room with a “What’s up everybody?”
But once the lights were on, he shuffled his feet slightly, looked unsteady. That curated bit, the guy who loves Cristiano Ronaldo and barks a lot, briefly cracked. Then, the questions came.
Content creator: “Would you give up streaming forever if Ronaldo would be your best friend?”
Speed: “No, because I have the ability to make Ronaldo my best friend.”
Content creator: “Call out somebody you want to race right now.”
Speed (with a frustrated groan): “Tyreek Hill it’s happening, it’s happening this year, EVERYBODY want it. So let’s go.”
Some five minutes and two other made-for-TikTok interviews later, he was escorted away. And there he was, standing next to the pitch, clad in MLS All Star gear. Children gathered round, phones out, clamoring for attention. Speed stood, stoic, awaiting his cue.
And then he took over the Skills Challenge. He leapt, bounded and pirouetted onto the field, a string of noises, shouts and gestures. Every camera was on him. Every kid wanted a high five. It was, admittedly, immensely captivating. Here was a 20-year-old from Cincinnati, who two years ago was barking on the Internet and shouting about Ronaldo, taking over an event that wasn’t his.
“He actually tries a lot. He’s a fun guy. We really enjoyed having him here,” FC Cincinnati All-Star Evander said.
This, of course, is the Speed thing. He is probably the most strangely compelling act in football at this point. Darren Jason Watkins Jr., as he is pretty much never known, started streaming video games in 2021. By the end of the next year, he had broken into the soccer space, marketing himself as a Cristiano Ronaldo fanboy who hates Lionel Messi.
He has more than 47 million subscribers on YouTube, is friends with pretty much every footballer you can mention, and has a record deal. He was the only person to get a sit-down interview with FIFA President Gianni Infantino before the Club World Cup. To many in United States, Speed is soccer.
A few hours before, though, things were far calmer. As fans filtered into the Q2 arena in Austin, Texas, Speed was put on the pitch, with only his bodyguard for company. He stood near the center circle, juggling and shooting. Ball after ball sailed over the crossbar. First, he leaned back too much. Then he couldn’t quite get enough bend to put one into the top corner. Then it was just frustration, with Speed rolling the ball into an empty net.
This was the warmup, vaguely acquainting himself with a football, but mostly preparing for the show itself.
And therein lies the point. Speed is not a footballer. He learned how to play this sport less than two years ago. In that light, he really isn’t that bad. He is not a natural, but he has a decent touch about him.
“He impressed me, especially for somebody for someone who has never played soccer that much,” Real Salt Lake All-Star Diego Luna said.
For this, Speed was pushed into the spotlight by MLS’s social media team, and they made good use of every second. Here he was, demoing, admittedly well, in the shooting challenge. There he was, being thrashed by Orlando City All-Star Alex Freeman in the passing drills. Some of the younger players loved it. Luna is 21. He is among the millions that stream Speed’s content, or follow him on Instagram.
He wasn’t star-struck, but there was a certain novelty to things.
“It was cool, somebody you watch in your free time and stuff like that, to be in person and talk to him and get to know him a bit was cool,” Luna said. “This is a cool little moment for him.”
Others were a bit more skeptical. A minute into the passing challenge, Freeman was ahead so convincingly that he decided to have some fun. He passed with his weaker foot, broke out a few rabonas. Despite that, Speed didn’t come close. Still, Freeman enjoyed the moment.
“It’s amazing. I grew up. I watched him, and to see him in real life, he’s the same guy I see on my phone,” Freeman said. “He’s really improved.”
Others seemed less impressed. It was put to Evander that Speed showed enough on the shooting challenge to suggest that he might be able to perform in MLS.
“No,” the Cincinnati midfielder said.
Nashville’s Sam Surridge, too, was a little uneasy at that suggestion.
“Maybe with a little more practice,” he suggested.
And even when he wasn’t kicking the ball, there was still plenty of time for the Speed show. He bounded onto the pitch to present Houston Dynamo 2’s Pedro Cruz, a young Brazilian, with the championship belt for winning goalie wars. In a quick interview after, Cruz thanked God, his family, and his club through a translator.
Speed tried to wish him the best in broken Portuguese. A few minutes later, Cruz strolled off, belt on his shoulder, club photographers either side. Speed stood in the middle of the pitch, signing autographs, posing for pictures, the whole thing being played out on the stadiums giant video screen. Cruz had won a fairly significant competition, and the moment had been snatched away.
Denis Bouanga, who stood baffled while he prepared for an event, wasn’t surprised to see Speed as the star of the show.
“It’s fun for the player and the fans, too, who come to the stadium to see iShowSpeed, too. My son watches him,” the LAFC forward said.
That was, in fact, one of the more interesting divides. A good portion of the crowd was clearly in attedance to see Speed. Kids and influencers asked for signatures and selfies while their parents and friends looked baffled. The Speed act was central, everything else seemed to revolve around it. This was a Speed stream that happened to have an All-Star event next to it.
Back in the room before the challenge, the facade broke again.
Speed was asked to name the player with the best left foot in the world. “Let me think. Who has a strong left foot… besides Messi?”
He peered over at his bodyguard for help, and received a blank stare in return, and 20 seconds of silences followed.
Then, a revelation: “Oh, Lamine Yamal!”
And then he was back into rhythm again, striding through each question with a smile and a chuckle. He signed a shirt for an interviewer, posed for a couple more pictures. He was cut off early, leaving a few reporters miffed. He chugged a bottle of water, and walked away from the cameras.
And with one quick “Suiii” he threw the door open, and left.
