Ten Years Apart: How Has My Table Tennis Game Changed?
1
In 2016, on a single evening I played 11 straight matches in the top-tier Grade A round-robin league in my city, finishing every one. My record wasn’t great, but at least I was “combat-ready.”
2
In 2026, after three matches against opponents at my level, I had hit my “physical limit.” For one of my playing partners, two matches was plenty for the night.
2
In 2016, I could go almost full-court forehand — stepping around the ball with a spring in my step. Whether I got there was another story, but I loved the rush of a forehand attack. People called me the “budget amateur version of Chen Qi.”
In 2026, I only step around the ball when I absolutely have to. I’ve been drilling the backhand loop — a shot I rarely use in matches — and playing cut shots and side pushes. People call me “the reincarnation of Niwa” (to which Niwa-sensei would say: I’m still alive…). On the surface I look light on my feet; in reality, I’m having trouble staying balanced.
3
In 2016, I brought five or six jerseys to every session, addicted to the smooth feel of imported shirts against my skin, changing after every game — not by choice, but because I sweated through them.
In 2026, I put on my jersey before playing and don’t need to change at all by the end. One shirt for the whole night, as if I had mastered some inner stillness and stopped breaking a sweat.
4
In 2016, I chugged sports drinks all evening, debating whether Pocari Sweat or Gatorade was the better fuel.
In 2026, I tried Red Bull in January — it really does wake you up. By February I switched back to mineral water for my health, a little wary of sugary drinks. By March, I had bought a thermos.
5
In 2016, with less than ten thousand yuan to my name, I stared at a special-edition Butterfly blade priced at 2,800 and sighed: I love it, but I can’t afford it.
In 2026, a new special-edition Butterfly blade costing over 30,000 yuan is no longer out of my financial reach. But just as I was about to click “buy,” I caught myself: I only want it for this moment, and I won’t actually end up playing with it. So I picked up my custom Heima Ya-Zhi blade again.
6
In 2016, I led a team to win a team championship, feeling elated — convinced that a city-wide singles title wasn’t far off.
In 2026, I suddenly realized it had been a long time since I entered a singles tournament. I sat around with the older guys agreeing: the whole point of playing table tennis is exercise.
I glanced at a basketball sitting in the corner of my apartment and realized: the last time I touched it was ten years ago.
7
In 2016, I wore a pair of Mizuno Crossmatch Pilo shoes I bought on Double Eleven for 179 yuan and proudly declared: I’ll wear this model for the rest of my life.
In 2026, I still think the barefoot-feel Mizuno offers great value, but I finally decided to treat myself a little better. I ordered a pricier pair of ASICS running-inspired shoes. More expensive, but they feel genuinely comfortable. A person has to treat themselves well eventually.
8
In 2016, I was playing with the special-edition Innerforce ALC, telling myself I’d move on to something even better. Better equipment, I thought, would take my technique further.
In 2026, I’ve already cycled through several Yoshimura Masaharu limited editions, from ALC to ZLC, that extra rebound force mirroring a decade of declining stamina. Now the ZLC doesn’t feel responsive enough, and I’ve spent three months playing with the SZLC (Heima Ya-Zhi ZFC), stubbornly committed to the inner-carbon feel, even as the fiber plies seem to get coarser and coarser.
9
In 2016, I liked showing off elegant technique during play, and watching friends would cheer and compliment you.
In 2026, just now I pulled off a clean passing shot in the moment I nearly slipped and fell, feeling immensely proud. The players standing nearby acted as if nothing had happened. Turns out, they were all on their phones.
10
In 2016, my eyes were full of energy. My profile looked good back then. I felt like a young man.
In 2026, at a class reunion after ten years, an old classmate I hadn’t seen said: Why do you still look the same as before — that youthful quality?
The phrase “youthful quality” is only ever used to describe middle-aged men.
I dragged my tired body — I’d been at work until 2 a.m. the night before — and smiled: Because for the past ten years, I’ve kept playing table tennis.