ESports Olympics: Gold Medals for Gaming?

Traditional sports purists might not have expected a medal event to have the energy that was inside the Hangzhou Esports Centre. It was filled with the loud, artificial thrum of bass and the screech of thousands of fans waving multicolored light sticks, yet it didn’t smell of newly cut grass or chlorine water. The noise was so loud that it could have been heard in any European football stadium when China’s team took the stage for the Arena of Valor final against Malaysia. When esport received its first official gold medal at the Asian Games in 2023, it seemed less like a specialized pastime and more like a preview of the competitive entertainment industry’s unavoidable future.

The International Olympic Committee (IOC) held a confused and contemptuous opinion of video games for decades. It was argued that the physical element—perspiration, muscle fiber, and aerobic capacity—was absent. However, it became hard to overlook the gaming industry’s overwhelming economic heft, which today outweighs both the music and Hollywood industries combined. The world needed a proof of concept, and the Asian Games in Hangzhou provided it. Seven gold medals were given out there in games ranging from Dota 2 to EA Sports FC, honoring the players as national heroes rather than idle pastimes.

A number of blunders throughout the clumsy transition from skepticism to acceptance brought to light the generational divide between the Olympic old guard and the digital millennials they so badly seek to attract. Focusing on virtual representations of classic sports like sailing and rowing, the IOC’s first attempt, the “Olympic Virtual Series” in 2021, felt secure and sterile. A toe-dip into the water was what it was. Although the Olympic Esports Week in Singapore in 2023 attempted to close the gap even more, the core gaming community harshly criticized the games’ selection, which included mobile archery games like Tic Tac Bow. Many others thought it was a corporate imitation of gaming culture, devoid of the gritty, well-liked, yet violent, games that really propel the sector.

A consequence of this tension is the IOC’s “red line.” Citing a conflict with Olympic principles of peace and non-violence, the Olympic movement has adamantly refused to include what they refer to as “killer games”—first-person shooters like Counter-Strike or Call of Duty. This leads to the intriguing paradox that the world’s most prestigious athletic event does not include the most popular competitive games. Rather, we observe a trend toward “virtual sports”—racing in Gran Turismo, virtual karate, or cycling on Zwift. Though they run the risk of offending the sizable audience that watches esports for the strategy and mayhem of a MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena), these hybrids meet the IOC’s requirements for fitness and non-violence.

There is no denying the motion in spite of the friction. The “Olympic Esports Games,” a stand-alone competition scheduled to make its debut in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, in 2027, has received official approval from the IOC. This division is essential. The IOC can capitalize on the cash and viewership while avoiding the controversy that would arise from a League of Legends player marching alongside a marathon runner at the same Opening Ceremony by establishing a separate entity. An additional level of complication is added by Saudi Arabia’s engagement, which indicates the significant geopolitical commitment in gaming as a soft power instrument.

This new frontier’s demographics are striking and instructive. Asian countries dominated Hangzhou, which was indicative of a society where professional gaming has been accepted for 20 years. With $445 million in revenue, China alone accounted for around 65% of the Asian esports business in 2022. But the Olympics’ international scope highlights inequalities that the Asian Games did not. African players encountered major infrastructure-related challenges during the Singapore series qualifiers, rather than a lack of skill; excessive latency and unstable servers made playing against European or Asian players a logistical nightmare.

I recall thinking that the adrenaline running through the Chinese Arena of Valor team’s faces after they achieved that historic 2-0 triumph was chemically identical to what a sprinter experiences at the finish line because of their trembling hands and overpowering sense of relief.

Although it is frequently made fun of, esports do have a physical cost. The heart rates of endurance athletes can be similar to those during high-stakes games. Many professionals retire in their mid-20s due to burnout rates caused by the cognitive burden of conveying sophisticated plans while making hundreds of decisions every minute. In Hangzhou, Malaysian team manager Wong Kang Woon made a strong case for this idea, pointing out that athletes’ sweating, racing pulses, and the use of sports science in training have become essential.

We are seeing a fragmentation in the meaning of “sport.” A generation that views digital competition as just as legitimate as physical exertion is defeating the traditionalists who condemn gaming as a lethargic pursuit. Esport will be back at the 2026 Asian Games in Aichi-Nagoya, securing its spot in the continental rotation. The question “is this a sport?” will give way to “who is the best in the world?” when the Olympic Esports Games begin in Riyadh.

Gold medals are now real. The anthems are equally loud. The athletes are rewriting the rules of glory in real time, and the only difference is that the playing field is composed of code.