Things didn’t go according to plan.
FaZe invited Newsweek to check out the shop and interview CEO Lee Trink. Arriving at the pop-up shop 30 minutes before Stadium Goods opened its doors, the line was still growing. Young fans from around the tri-state area, or in town for the Fortnite World Cup, were pressed up against barricades, melting in the heat but strong in spirit.
Inside the store, tensions were mounting. The general manager of Stadium Goods did not expect so many people to show up and lacked the proper security needed to maintain the line. “I didn’t expect it to be this crazy,” the GM told Trink. “We might have to shut down this event because the line is so long and crazy.”
Trink, decked out in a jewel-encrusted golden FaZe logo necklace, is the former president of Capitol Records. He likes to keep things under control. He assured the store’s employees that everything will be fine because “the guys will sign posters and take pictures if we run out of merchandise.” Thirty different influencers were flown into New York just to or this pop-up shop.
“We are still the best kept secret in show business,” Trink told Newsweek. “I have angst about not having our proper due in the world. I won’t rest until FaZe sits among the best sports franchises of all time: Patriots, Lakers, Manchester United. I know we are going there.”
FaZe started out as a group of teenagers doing trick shots and “420 no scope” montages, gaining a massive amount of social capital along the way. To Trink, FaZe represents the “cool side of gaming” and has a “swagger” other esports organizations lack. The org has more than six million Instagram followers and four million on Twitter, maintaining dozens of active members across the world of esports, YouTube and Twitch.
The organization hit a massive bump in the road in May of this year when their star Fortnite player and streamer Tfue announced that he wanted to leave FaZe. His contract was leaked to the press, putting Trink and his organization in the center of a media feeding frenzy. “The reason the Tfue thing was so explosive was because it was the first ‘Clash of the Titans’: the biggest org, the biggest gamer,” Trink said. “Tfue is a kid and got lost in all of this. I don’t know why I have sympathy for him. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy; but he has it. Knowing him, he hasn’t thought much about the advice he is getting because he has an aloofness about his career in general. He’s getting bad advice from his father. I’m sure he feels he’s helping his career, but there are plenty of instances where he’s damaging his career.”
Fifteen minutes before the official start time, security warns Trink and the rest of the FaZe team that the doors need to be opened or the place will definitely get shut down by the NYPD. Even though the 30 members of FaZe were still on the two busses in transit from Long Island, the first few people started to shuffle in.
“There’s an an evanescence around social influence when it’s around gaming,” Trink said. “You’re not there just because someone is cool and famous. Fame breeds fame. With FaZe clan you have something to rally around and actual goals to accomplish.”
Twenty minutes later the first bus of FaZe kids pulled up and pandemonium began. Security guards held back fans who flung themselves at players like Sway and Blaze. Watching from the glass storefront facade, the fans’ energy felt more like Beatlemania rather than a group of teenagers who sit and play Fortnite or Call of Duty all day. The store was in complete chaos as fans jumped lines to get signatures and pictures with their favorite influencers. No new people were being brought in, which caused the line outside to become even more aggressive.
While Trink was trying to restore order, one of the head security guards yells at everyone who isn’t on line or an influencer to get out of the store. I manage to hide next to a pair of Air Jordans and continue to watch this adventure unfold, though I lost Trink in the crowd. As normalcy was starting to return and the line started to get under control again, Banks and the rest of the FaZe members’ bus arrived causing hell to break loose.
After two hours inside the store, I decided that getting trampled to death a bright neon hoodie wasn’t how I wanted to meet my maker, so I left. Outside, the line continued to grow, now stretching through multiple blocks and weaving its way across Chinatown. Fans who had managed to get in and out with their purchase showed off their wares to other members of the line.
Jacob Hide and Stephen Shale were a pair of friends who managed to be one of the first 20 in line by arriving at 5:45 p.m. the previous day. They had gone to ComplexCon, a hypebeast convention in Chicago, where they had bought merchandise and seen FaZe Banks. “I’ve been watching FaZe since I was a little kid, I’ve grown up around video games,” Shale said about the pop-up shop. “It was pretty cool to see them in person.”
“We have been watching since we were 15 and started with trickshot montages,” Hide added. “I’ve always been a Call of Duty guy and there’s an emotional attachment.”
At around 1:00 p.m., the NYPD shut down the pop-up store, closing another typically chaotic chapter of FaZe Clan’s ongoing story.
