It's nine o'clock on a Wednesday night and the action at the Nanking Table Tennis Center is starting to peak. Sweating players bounce and dip at the ends of green tables, grunting as they cut the air with their paddles, slapping little orange balls back and forth -- too fast for the eye to follow.
Over in the far corner a crowd is gathering near the club's main table, which sits separated from the others and surrounded by mesh netting. A variety show drones away on a nearby TV set, but nobody pays it much attention. They're more interested in a grudge match that's about to take place between the center's star player, Andy Tzeng, and a challenger from another center across town.
"This is just a friendly match," says Tzeng as he twists and contorts his body, working through a set of pre-match stretches. "But," he adds, "the competition can get heated because the winner gets bragging rights."
PHOTO: AP
Tzeng is speaking about his upcoming match with a cross-town rival, but, taken more generally, his remarks could be viewed as a telling metaphor, especially when one considers that table tennis is Taiwan's most high-profile sport on an international level.
Still, it is the island's political archrival, China, that sits at the top of the world's table tennis pecking order. And just as China casts a long political shadow across the Taiwan Strait, its presence in the sport also casts long shadows across the green tables and nets that they've dominated for the past two decades.
Their strength, however, doesn't keep people like Tzeng from believing that Taiwan will one day break China's stranglehold on table tennis. "We're gaining on them," Tzeng says assuredly. "And one day, we'll beat them."
PHOTO: AP
Taiwan's most recent chance to humble their cross strait rivals came at last week's World Team Table Tennis Championships in Malaysia. People gathered around televisions throughout the island, full of hope and excitement as the "Chinese Taipei" teams blazed into the finals to face China. While their success surprised table tennis pundits and caused nervous rumblings in the mainland, they were still overmatched in the face of the awesome firepower of the Chinese machine, losing 3-1. "Of course China is still the best," says Huang Kuo-yi, a coach for the Chinese Taipei Table Tennis Team. "They have a huge pool of players from which to choose and unlimited resources from the state."
Huang attributes China's dominance to the fact that the state-run program allows players to train non-stop without having to worry about work, family pressure and paying rent -- a problem with which many local athletes struggle. But like Tzeng, Huang believes Taiwan is gaining on China when it comes to the war of the little orange balls. "I think we will beat them soon, possibly at the next Olympics in Sydney," Huang says dreamily. "When it happens, it will be a huge boost for Taiwan, not just the table tennis team, but Taiwan as a country."
This idea that sport competitions can transcend the bounds of the arenas in which they are played and become a thing to which people attach pride, and even in some cases, personal identity, is far from new.
PHOTO: AP
What American could forget the Cold War US-USSR hockey rivalry? Or more recently, the women's soccer World Cup between the US and China. Or a Cuban national team that soundly defeated a Baltimore Orioles baseball team last summer. The fact that the average single player salary on the Orioles squad was higher than that of the entire Cuban team just added to the symbolism of the defeat.
So whether the prize is bragging rights in a friendly cross-town club rivalry or a world championship title, when the circumstances are right, sporting events cannot help but to take on heightened meaning.
"The question is whether these types of events work in a positive way or a negative way," says Chang Jaw-ling, an analyst on US - Sino relations and a member of Taiwan's Academia Sinica. "Back in 1971 when Nixon used 'ping pong diplomacy' to forge links with China it worked to everyone's advantage."
Chang is referring to one of the world's most historic cases of sports diplomacy that saw the US invited to China to play the Chinese national team in a friendly tournament. "The US lost the match, but, in the end, they won by improving relations with China."
The games drew so much attention because the two countries had not had any prior official contact. "Not only was there a lot of interest and curiosity on both sides, but there was also a lot at stake so, of course, the games ended up taking on more significance than your average ping pong tournament." Soon after the games then-President Richard Nixon opened official trade dialogue with the PRC, one of the defining moments of his presidency.
Chang believes that future tournaments between Taiwan and China have the possibility of being equally beneficial to both sides provided that the matches succeed in building up relations as opposed to exacerbating an already sensitive political rivalry. "Of course everybody wants to win," Chang says, "but a premium should be put on sportsmanship and bridging gaps and understanding, not just winning. Otherwise the games will just build more tension."
Chang points to the PRC's refusal to let spectators or players from Taiwan fly the Taiwan flag and insisting that they compete under the name "Chinese Taipei." This, Chang says, is counterproductive to what international sporting events should be about.
But, according to Tzeng, the tension is all part of the sport. "When a Taiwan player takes on a Chinese player there will be added tension, added significance," Tzeng says as he takes off his sweat pants and gets ready to begin his match. "All these players want to win," Tzeng says, pointing to the people sparring on the basement tables. "They want to knock off whoever is on top."
And, at this time, that means China. As the match begins, Tzeng shows why he is an up-and-coming star as he deftly handles the speed and intensity of the volleys. Both players are studies in concentration as they try to work the other's weaknesses and slam the ball home for a forehand winner.
They sweat and grunt and their shoes squeak on the tile floor. "Table tennis is all about touch and footwork," Tzeng repeats out loud. "You need good footwork to be able to be in position to return. If you can't return, you can't win."
They go at it late into the night as their small crowd of friends cheers the continuous feats of quickness, skill and coordination. From this match, it's hard to believe that Taiwan would be the underdog in any attempt at cross-strait ping-pong diplomacy.
After awhile a late-night news broadcast begins to play on the forgotten TV. Presidential candidates wave and speak to throngs of enthusiastic followers. But nobody in the basement notices or pays it much attention. For now, promises of strategy and reason and dealings with China are lost on this crowd. They're too busy following the constant blur and slap of the bouncing ball.
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