|
HANGZHOU, China—In the affluent lakefront capital of Zhejiang province last week,
Yao Ming, China’s seven-foot-six center, walked onto the
basketball court at Yellow Dragon Stadium to thunderous
applause. It was a small but significant step for the
upcoming Beijing Olympics: Yao would play.
Since
February, when Yao suffered a stress fracture in his
left foot, ending his season with the Houston Rockets,
the Chinese had held their breath over the specter of
their most famous athlete riding the bench for the
national team.
A
six-year veteran of the National Basketball Association
(NBA), Yao is a towering global commodity. But in the
Olympics, his value is even greater: He is a reflection
of the China that many people here hope the world will
see during the Games—a humble, hard-working superstar
unchanged by his vast new wealth. In that way, he
personifies for many Chinese the spirit of the nation,
which has embraced capitalism even as it has clung to
the mantle of communism.
“For
ordinary Chinese, who have a very strong concept about
their nation, Yao represents China in the US,” said Wang
Songtao, 27, a Beijing-based lawyer. “He handles
national interests and his individual interests well. He
always remembers that he is from China.”
Through
the decades, China has worried about its image at the
Olympics. It boycotted the Games for more than two
decades beginning in the late 1950s, when organizers
began to allow Taiwan to participate. Later, Chinese
leaders fretted over the country’s failure to win many
medals in sports dominated by the West.
Since
China was awarded the Games, Communist Party leaders
have been preoccupied with how best to showcase Chinese
culture and athletic prowess this summer. But the
government has been pushed back on its heels—forced to
defend itself from criticism of its crackdown on
political dissidents, its role in Tibet and Darfur and
its effectiveness in handling the Sichuan earthquake.
Yao, with a
size-18 shoe planted both in this country and in the
United States, is the type of export China is more
interested in promoting.
The
27-year-old player was born to two basketball stars
whose marriage was arranged by the government, which
then measured him regularly even as an infant, predicted
his growth and trained him for years. He is not the
first Chinese basketball player to make it in the
NBA—that would be his teammate, Wang Zhizhi, who played
for the Dallas Mavericks beginning in 2001. Yao,
however, is the most successful. His earnings in 2007
were estimated by Forbes magazine at $56.6 million.
No
matter what his physical condition during the Games,
“once he shows up, his appearance will make a
difference,” said Jin Wenhui, 21, a student at Texas A&M
University who is a regular at Beijing’s Dongdan
basketball courts when in town.
“People
will feel differently as soon as he stands there,” Jin
said. “In our hearts, he is the image ambassador of
China.”
Yao’s loyalty to
China has helped win him admirers. In May, after the
earthquake that devastated Sichuan province, Yao donated
$71,000 for the relief effort. When his contribution
prompted rare public complaints that, given his salary,
he could afford to send more, he did so, upping the
amount to $286,000 that same week. In June, he announced
he would give $2 million to a foundation in his name to
rebuild schools destroyed in the quake.
Basketball fans are quick to point out that Wang has not
always been so loyal to his home country. He initially
balked when asked to return to China to train for an
Asian tournament, and was not reinstated on the national
team until he issued a written public apology.
“In
China, the system is that the country cultivates you, so
you need to pay it back when the country needs you,”
said Ma Jun, 40, a clothing merchant. “Yao did well.
When China asked him to play for the Chinese team, he
returned. When the earthquake happened, he stood up
quickly.”
Together
with Yi Jianlian, 20, who was recently traded to the New
Jersey Nets, Yao and Wang form the three pillars of a
“Great Wall” of Chinese basketball. They are a point of
pride here—pictures of the trio were on display in
Hangzhou last week—and will be watched closely during
China’s highly anticipated first game on August 10
against the United States.
“Basketball is the sport that has changed China the most
in recent years, as important as the development of the
Internet,” said Di Zhu, 20, another regular on the
Dongdan courts who holds a ticket to an Olympics
basketball final.
A 1994
match between the Rockets and the New York Knicks was
the first NBA Finals game televised live in China. By
2002, when Yao played his first game for the Rockets, an
estimated 300 million people watched the Chinese
telecast.
“Yao is
very Chinese in style, very modest. He doesn’t display a
bad temper, and when he plays he never hurts the other
athletes,” said Di, a math and economics major at
Edinburgh University in Scotland. “Every time he appears
in public, he dresses formally and neatly. And he is
quite patriotic.”
Yao’s
sense of humor and duty are often among the first
attributes Chinese praise.
Asked by
a Chinese journalist four years ago what his favorite
American music was, Yao replied: “I like the national
anthem. I listen to it at least 82 times a year.” When
he quietly signed a five-year extension to his contract
with the Rockets three years ago, sportswriters marveled
at the lack of arrogance, drama and posturing that
usually accompanies star negotiations in the NBA.
Like his
parents in their youth, Yao initially hated basketball.
A monotonous and strict state-sponsored training routine
had him practicing six days a week. Not until his
mother, a former Red Guard, scored tickets to see the
Harlem Globetrotters did a nine-year-old Yao see players
actually enjoying themselves, according to Operation Yao
Ming, a book by Brook Larmer.
By age
14, Yao was training 10 hours a day. His mother’s
revolutionary activities, while endearing her to
Communist Party leaders in Chairman Mao’s time, produced
endless suffering when an official she persecuted was
rehabilitated and placed in charge of Shanghai’s sports
system. Yao’s parents could barely afford to feed their
growing son.
Then, on
the eve of entering the NBA draft in 2002, Yao’s chances
were almost snuffed out by Beijing’s fears that his
loyalties might also lie with the United States.
Officials allowed him to enter the draft only after he
pledged his loyalty to Beijing, which demanded that Yao
give half his salary to the government.
China now plays down its chances for gold medals at the
Games, and even fans say they would be happy if China’s
basketball team finished in fifth or sixth place. But
the country’s hopes clearly rest with Yao’s ability to
strengthen the confidence of the Chinese people. If Yao
can prove how good the Chinese are at basketball, the
thinking goes, they will gain the respect of the United
States.
At last
week’s game in Hangzhou, some of Yao’s fans could barely
contain their excitement.
“I can’t
even hold my digital video camera without trembling,”
said Hou Qi, a college student who paid nearly $230 for
his VIP section ticket Thursday. “Yao helps the cultural
exchange between the US and China. He has all the
traditional Chinese cultural elements and good points
such as being steady, humble, a good communicator. Plus,
he has a kind heart.” |
