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Topic 2 (選題二)
Basketball Diplomacy
CHINA”S TALLEST SOLDIER never really expected to live the American Dream. But Wang Zhizhi, a 7-foot-1 basketball star from the People’s Liberation Army, is making history as the first Chinese player in the NBA. In his first three weeks in America the 23-year-old rookie has already cashed his first big NBA check, preside over “Wang Zhizhi Day” in San Francisco and become immortalized on his very own trading cards. He’s even played in five games with his new team, the Dallas Mavericks, scoring 24 points in just 38 minutes. Now the affable Lieutenant Wang is joining the Mavericks on their ride into the NBA playoffs — and he is intent on enjoying every minute. One recent evening Wang slipped into the hot tub behind the house of Mavericks assistant coach Donn Nelson. He leaned back, stretched out and pointed at a plane moving across the star-filled sky. In broken English, he started singing his favorite tune: “I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky.”
Back in China, the nation’s other basketball phenom, Yao Ming , can only dream of taking flight. Yao thought he was going to be the first Chinese player in the NBA. The 7-foot-5 Shanghai sensation is more highly touted than Wang: the 20-year-old could be the No.1 overall pick in the June NBA draft. But as the May 13 deadline to enter the draft draws near, Yao is still waiting for a horde of business people and apparatchiks to decide his fate. Last week, as Wang scored 13 points in the Dallas season finale, Yao was wading through a stream of bicycles on a dusty Beijing street.
Yao and Wang are more than just freaks of nature in basketball shorts. The twin towers are national treasures, symbols of China’s growing stature in the world. They’re also emblematic of the NBA’s outsize dreams for conquering China. The NBA, struggling at home, sees salvation in the land of 1.3 billion potential hoop fans. China, determined to win the 2008 Olympics and join the World Trade Organization, is eager to make its mark on the world — on its own terms. The two-year struggle to get these young players into the NBA has been a cultural collision — this one far removed from U.S.-China bickering over spy planes and trade liberalization. If it works out, it could be — in basketball parlance — the ultimate give-and-go. “This is just like Ping-Pong diplomacy,” says Xia Song, a sport-marketing executive who represents Wang. “Only with a much bigger ball.”
Two years ago it looked more like a ball and chain. Wang’s Army bosses were miffed when the Mavericks had the nerve to draft their star back in 1999. Nelson remembers flying to Beijing with the then owner Ross Perot Jr. — son of the eccentric billionaire — to hammer out a deal with the stone-faced communists of the PLA. “You could hear them thinking: ‘What is this NBA team doing, trying to lay claim to our property?’” Nelson recalls. “We tried to explain that this was an honor for Wang and for China.” There was no deal. Wang grew despondent and lost his edge on court.
This year Yao became the anointed one. He eclipsed Wang in scoring and rebounding, and even stole away his coveted MVP award in the Chinese Basketball Association league. It looked as if his Shanghai team — a dynamic semicapitalist club in China’s most open city — would get its star to the NBA first.
Then came the March madness. Wang broke out of his slump to lead the Army team to its sixth consecutive CBA title — scoring 40 in the final game. A day later the PLA scored some points of its own by announcing that Wang was free to go West. What inspired the change of heart? No doubt the Mavericks worked to build trust with Chinese officials (even inviting national- team coach Wang Fei to spend the 1999-2000 season in Dallas). There was also the small matter of Chinese pride. The national team stumbled to a 10th-place finish at the 2000 Olympics, after placing eighth in 1996. Even the most intransigent cadre could see that the team would improve only if it sent its stars overseas to learn from the world’s best players.
