Note from Pete: Miguel Seabra was swamped with work and unable to file his last few dispatches from Estoril until today. But when you read this post below, I think you'll agree that the wait was well worth it, and thanks for working so hard on our behalf!
Mikey writes:
On Sunday at the Estoril Open, Chinese tennis players reversed the history of the colonial period (Remember, Portugal controlled Macau until the end of 1999!) and swept both single and doubles titles in the women’s draw. The sweep was all the more sweet – and significant – because the event also featured the first all-Chinese singles final at a WTA Tour event.
If “Tsunami” wasn’t a Japanese word, I would use it to describe what looms in the future for women’s tennis: a great wave of new talent coming into the game from mainland China, accelerating thanks to the recent success of Chinese women on the pro tour, and the focus on the upcoming Olympic Games in Beijing.
Actually, I had expected the Chinese to dominate last years’ edition of the Estoril Open. I had seen several matches from China’s best players since 2004, and commented on some more on TV; besides that, the father of Portuguese pro Frederica Piedade (she played many smaller -$10,000 to $25,000 USD - international events in China)had predicted to me that Chinese players would be a regular fixture in the women’s top 100 sooner rather than later.
Last year, Na Li left Portugal with the singles runner-up trophy, and Li Ting and Tian Tian Sun won the doubles; the increase in their production this year simply underscores how far and fast the Chinese have come. They’re also communicating better with the media, and looking increasingly more open to the western world.
In 2005, Jiang Hong Wei – head coach of the National Training Center in Beijing – was the translator and spokesperson for every single player, and on every issue, in the Chinese group, which included Chinese Tennis Association director Wang Guang-He. Coach Jiang said back then that the girls couldn’t express themselves in English, but this polite apology was more a rationalization than anything else.
I had already talked to Na Li at the previous Australian Open, and it was obvious that she and at least some of her countrywomen fully understood what was being said in English, especially when expressions like “prize-money” and “sex symbol” came up in conversation, or during pressers (when a reporter asked if Na Li was considered a sex symbol in China, she reacted immediately). But Jiang Hong Wei always had the first and the last word: he translated the reporters’ questions to the players, listened to them, and then replied in English.
I met Na Li, the more extroverted of the Chinese players, again this year in Melbourne. I talked to her in English, she answered in English, so I kidded her: "Oh, so now you know more words in English besides prize-money?”.
Li laughed heartily, and said the Chinese girls would probably play the Estoril Open again this year. True to their word, they ended up making history. Li and Zheng, the finalists, dominated all comers, winning in straight sets all the way to the final – and, like a Chinese fortune cookie, the outcome of that final was surprising. . .or not.
I knew that the Chinese team had a plane to catch around 4:20 P.M. on Sunday, with a noon start. Chinese patience is legendary, so I wondered if they would make their flight. As expected, it was a tight match and the first two sets lasted over two hours; both Li and Zheng were going for each other’s more erratic forehands rather than their respective, solid backhands.
Li, who is more powerful than Zheng, won the first set in the tie-break; then Zheng, who has a truly awkward forehand, managed to win the second, 7-5. By then, Li was already complaining about muscular problems and cramping; she sat down, called the trainer, and never stood up again. She retired and couldn’t even stand to receive her runner-up trophy - never mind give the customary press conference.
Being aware of Team China's flight arrangements, I asked chair umpire Carlos Ramos (he's worked two Grand Slam singles finals) about Li’s condition. He said he was 100 per cent sure she had real muscle problems; he didn’t think she was faking it at all - he saw the tightness of her leg muscles with his own eyes.
I went to Li’s chair and asked her the source of her problem. She replied, “Because I lost last year, I wanted to win badly this year, especially this being the first all-Chinese final. I was too tense and nervous; I got tired.”
Some Portuguese reporters raised doubts about the “strange’” outcome of the final, taking pains to point out that Team China had a flight to catch. And they found it amusing – and telling – that the WTA Tour’s official position was that Li retired with “heat illness.”
So, was there some funny business going on? Who knows? But I had to take Ramos at his word, and beyond that, it didn't seem to make sense to give the match to Zheng. After all, Li had been last year's finalist, she trails Zheng in the rankings, and she'd won the first set. If you were going to give the match to someone, especially if the intention was to boost the Chinese game - wouldn't you give it to Li?
After receiving the winner’s trophy, Zheng rushed to the Sponsors Village, where she had to collect a watch by Baume & Mercier (estimated value: $2000 USD) and take a couple of pictures with it. On her way back, I asked Zheng if she was keeping the watch – or if she had to give it to the official from the Chinese Tennis Association. She laughed and said she would keep it.
Afterwards I asked Jiang Hong Wei the same question. He laughed at it – he’s always in a good mood – and said: “Of course she is keeping it. We are more open than you think!”.
I answered back: “Well, since the Federation keeps the prize-money, why not the watch?”
He smiled again, “Don’t worry about her, she’s very rich in China!”.
Actually, as Jiang explained earlier in the week, the CTA, which completely underwrites the development of junior players, gets the prize-money checks, and then distributes a percentage to the players. The CTA also gives bonuses based on merit and rankings: when someone reaches the top 50, top 30, top 20 and top 10.
Shuai Peng rebelled against the system months ago (much like Natasha Zvereva rebelled in the late 80ies against the same kind of situation, under the Soviet Union’s policy), but she’s back in the team now. However, she withdrew from Estoril, and now I wish I had asked why.
This, too: Zheng and Li had different coaches with them here in Portugal: Zheng was with Chen Li, who had sunscreen mascara all over her face every time I saw her. Li has a Swedish coach, Rikard Allgurin. The CTA trusts him enough to have him collect everyone’s prize money, which must make him salivate, because the word in the locker room is that foreign coaches in China are paid very low wages. Since the girls were in a hurry to get to the airport (Li was feeling well enough to carry her own bags to the transportation center!), I wasn’t able to delve further into these issues.
You know, I’m not sure there will ever be a Chinese Number One. But I can see a lot of Chinese players in the top 40, even in the top 30 – they’ll be the new wave in women’s tennis, replacing the Russians.
Chinese players are fast, resilient and their levels of concentration are pretty high; they are intense on court and motivated. Plus, the Olympic Games in their home country are a big deal. Many readers, particularly in the U.S. don’t know it, but having tennis as an Olympic sport (it was re-instated in 1988) has done remarkable things for the growth and expansion of the game. It triggered, among other things, the explosive growth of tennis in the former Soviet Union – where tennis before ’88 was derided and de facto suppressed as a “bourgeois” activity.
The Chinese bring a similar perspective. Like the former SU, China is obsessed with Olympic success and medal counts. With Beijing hosting the Games in 2008, China has gone tennis mad, promoting the Beijing Open and the exclusive Shanghai Masters Cup, pouring big bucks into the sport that is also booming at the recreational level.
But let’s not overlook the role of a key player in this potentially landscape-altering development: Michael Chang. He had a lot to do with opening Communist China to tennis by playing in those critical, 1990s men’s events in Beijing and Hong Kong. He was lionized and adored in China.
Before then, Chinese players were considered an aberration; in 1982, the defection of serve-and-volleyer Hu Na caused a political firestorm. Na never made big headlines, nor could she climb higher than No. 58 in the rankings. But she broke trail, and was soon followed by Li Fang, Yi Jing-Qian, and Chen Li (now Zheng’s coach).
Those girls managed the odd win here or there, but the current generation has handily been beating all their records. Now that they have a different mindset and institutional support, I expect them to dominate the top 50 in four year’s time.
And why not?
Some critics say they’re small; I say they’re fast and focused, plus they have a huge base from which to recruit the best athletes. If you consider China’s incredible economic development, the cultural changes, the potential number of players and the impressive ‘production lines’ they display in every single area (including sports), there seems little doubt that a land where the small paddles (table-tennis and badmintion) once ruled, the big racquet is coming into its own.
P.S. – This Chinese revolution is being driven almost exclusively by the women; there are few men players of Top 50 caliber on the horizon, according to Jiang Hong Wei.
– Miguel Seabra, in Estoril