After a Night's Thought, the Ultimate Code Behind China's Men's Title Defense
In the early hours, China’s men’s team beat Japan 3-0, achieving a 12th straight Worlds team title. You say a team that lost two group-stage matches could, in the semifinal and final, beat the vibrant France and the nearly genius-laden Japan by big margins — it really is hard to believe.
Of course, if you watched, you would find reality more absurd than fiction. Liang Jingkun had just delivered a god-tier reversal of the elder Lebrun. In under 24 hours, another crazy reversal — anyone short on composure could faint just watching.
Recall also the Macau World Cup, where Sora Matsushima led Wang Chuqin 3-2 and was reversed. That missing final kick — why can Japan never pull it off? China must have some ultimate code they have not told us. So I thought all night, and finally grasped four words.
1
No reversal, no war god. Liang Jingkun reversed Tomokazu Harimoto 3-2. How to describe Liang Jingkun’s tactical level? Really hard to evaluate. You can hardly see the Liang Jingkun of the first two games against Alexis as the same person as the one in the last three. Then in the team final against Harimoto, he lost the first two games, was down 3-8 in the decider, then won 8 in a row for a huge reversal. However you look at it, it is absurd! Simply: ordinarily, an ordinary star; in a headwind, a super star. And the harder the wind blows, the more energized he plays.
After watching Harimoto lose to Dapang, the younger Lebrun should forgive his brother, because he will understand that even if he had played, against the headwind war god, he might not escape whole. Dapang is not lacking in ability — he just needs the wind to wake himself up. This is probably the goalkeeper of super stars: not that he is the lowest super star, but that he filters out all the ordinary stars and stands guard before the gate.
Back to the match. The first two games he could not beat Harimoto — his backhand rallies could not out-muscle. At first it was fine, but later Harimoto adapted to your spin, and your lines were too single. Harimoto’s speed-up was blazing. From the third game, he started with the serve, trying not to let Harimoto flick first, restraining Harimoto with forehand-side short control, playing more underspin. And Liang Jingkun gradually realized: ramping up speed matters more than ball quality. That is, if you fire more power, Harimoto borrows pace more easily. Better to reduce power and put more focus on raising linking speed. By the late rallies of the fourth game, Harimoto slowed down a bit. In one fan group, I said Harimoto was already shaky inside, probably could not pass this hurdle.
Liang Jingkun pulled off another “Liang full-game” routine. In the decider, Harimoto led 8-3 and suddenly forgot how to play. Mainly he gave Liang Jingkun chances, and Dapang just held on in front. Why did Harimoto’s hands go soft? He has a disease where, once he leads, he forgets how to play — not the first time. Another important reason: when he cannot ramp up speed, he has no answer. And in gear, the ZYRE-03 fuels this trend — it ramps up speed better, but when you struggle to ramp up speed, it has no value, and it easily errs. Unless you can always charge forward.
2
Wang Chuqin still has a kill move. 3-1 over Sora Matsushima. Before the match I thought it was 50-50. After watching, as a friend said, Datou is still hiding deep: he saved the trick that won the last two games against Matsushima at the World Cup for the end — no flick on the receive, just a short touch and a long chop, and it was done. The greatest truths are the simplest!
Sora Matsushima is very strong — his backhand drive is too dashing and domineering, and his forehand is much stronger now too. His topspin rallying is very fierce. But I increasingly find his backhand ZYRE-03 has the same problem: when he cannot ramp up speed, he easily errs; or, its spin layers are not rich enough, so when he cannot ramp up speed, the threat is small, with too few variations. In topspin rallies it really is awesome, but if you play more underspin, it is not as steady as Hurricane or D09c. Is this an advantage of tacky rubber? Well, not entirely. I even feel Tenergy’s spin layers are richer than the Z03’s. Of course, the Z03 not catching spin much and ramping up speed wildly is also a fact.
This is about the ultimate code behind China’s men’s title defense. It is: the doctrine of the mean. What is true “the mean”? Opposing extremes, opposing “too much” and “not enough,” grasping moderation, valuing dynamic balance, pursuing harmony of heaven and man. It is an active choice, not a passive compromise. On the court, it shows in many ways. For example, when your state is excited, leave some margin, because danger may arrive then. Liang Jingkun against Alexis led 10-3 in the fourth game and was chased to 10-all. Wang Chuqin against Oh Junsung flew in the second game, 11-1, then easily lost points in the third, losing two games 8-11 and 7-11. Wang Chuqin against Sora Matsushima won the third game too easily 11-2, and at the start of the fourth fell behind by a big margin.
Besides, you cannot have only one way to win. Sora Matsushima’s crazy style has an extremely high ceiling, but also a possibly very low floor. That is why he could lose 0-3 to Qiu Dang in the group stage and 1-3 to Glasmenko in the knockout, because he has only one rhythm: ramping up speed. A true king needs to be all-around, with different solutions. This way, facing different opponents and difficulties, he can adjust and ultimately solve the problem. At the same time, in mindset, do not be arrogant in victory or discouraged in defeat. As Coach Wang Hao said, play point by point. The words are plain, but the truth is inside. Maybe all this is our champion’s heritage.