Written on 22/08/2016, posted later.
Exercising this ignored muscle to put words to paper, because for the first time in a long time I feel like I have something to say. It's a bit painful, like trying to stretch out from a cramped position that's been held for too long.
I can almost feel the rust flaking off hinges that haven't moved in too long a time.
Time.
It lends strength and vigour and all a man dare take, but eventually, demands repayment.
Today, a metaphorical torch was passed at the Olympics. Lin Dan, the super-dan of China, was ousted by a youngster 10 years his junior and sent home medal-less, and, mirrored in the gold medal match, long-time rival Lee Chong Wei was once again denied, this time not by Lin Dan himself, but by the new leading light of Chen Long.
My heart ached as I watched him stand not quite atop the podium, but in the place he has stood the last three times of competing, and watched him put on the brave face once more. 3 Olympic silver medals is no mean feat, but I dare say he would trade all of them in a heartbeat for one gold.
Sport is a microcosm of life where what is still wild about us can be allowed to run amok. And so it can be cruel, not out of malice, but because that is nature. The scores will not favour for injury or age, will not yield for dedication nor passion but will only respond to being won on the day. The record books will discard all but the winners and consign their journeys to footnotes, if they are lucky.
I grew up watching Lin Dan and Lee Chong Wei ascend to their positions as the two kings of Badminton, and from there witnessed their utter dominance of the sport - they were playing in their own league of two.
I am Chinese. It was natural for me to favour Lin Dan - super dan. He was the megastar that set the world alight, the quintessential champion. There was an indomitable aura about him, one which allowed him to win everything there was to win in badminton, and multiple times for good measure. If there was someone you could wish to emulate, not just for their skill on court, but for their mental toughness, self-belief and confidence, it would be Lin Dan. He is indisputably, undeniably, the greatest player of all time that the sport has ever seen.
But, towards the latter half of their careers, it was the story of Lee Chong Wei, told through their now 37 head to head matches spanning those two illustrious careers, that ended up capturing my heart.
The yin to Lin Dan's yang, you could imagine him as the quiet studious boy in school to Lin Dan's troublemaker, and unfortunately, when they came to blows early on, Lee Chong Wei would crumple under Lin Dan even though he would have more than the measure of everyone else. None of the beatdowns were more pronounced than at the 2008 Olympic Finals, where despite being ranked World No. 2 behind Lee Chong Wei, Lin Dan swept to victory. Nobody doubted that Lee Chong Wei had the physical ability to play the shots, the stamina to last, and the skill to win, but...on the day, he lost in a scoreline that barely saw him cross into double figures in either of the games they played.
A lesser player may never have been the same again after that match. But, Lee Chong Wei didn't let that break him. He went away and trained, he went away and traded sweat, blood and tears for any improvement he could find.
In the years to come, as they faced off against each other on the courts, you could see how Lee Chong Wei grew, how his game came to mature and evolve, to become more confident and assertive. He started displaying flashes of that killer edge that one could say Lin Dan was born with, and his results spoke for themselves - he won, and won, and won. Except when it really mattered. The World Championships (of which he still hasn't won), the Yonex All England, the Olympics.
The breakthrough, if one could call it that, came at the 2011 Yonex All England championships. Where, having taken it the previous year in an unconvincing performance against Japan's Kenichi Tago (a victory, yes - but to prove you are the best, you have to prove yourself against the best) Lee Chong Wei again faced up to Lin Dan. This time though, he prevailed in straight sets over his arch rival. Was the tide finally about to turn?
The hallmark of a great champion is how they can handle their losses, and how they can use this energy to come back stronger, and so it was with Lin Dan. So when they met in the subsequent tournaments - the World Championships, the Yonex All England's, it was again Lin Dan who came out on top. At the time, watching the pair of them play, with the scorelines always so close, it seemed like they were so well matched that the winner could have been decided by a coin flip. But, such was the magic of Lin Dan that in the end, those coin flips always went his way.
The 2012 Olympics came, and with their aging, many presumed this was the last chance for both men to show their best. Lin Dan would strive to win the gold again - to defend a gold was a feat no player had achieved before. Lee Chong Wei would strive to win his first gold. So they progressed through the tournaments, duly crushing all opponents before them, to meet in the finals.
It was a delirious match. Watching two artisans of their craft, at the peak of their respective powers, trading blow for blow and giving their all is a thing of awe and beauty. It was a match of three simultaneous contests: the physical - who could dance across the court better than the other? Smash harder? Hit the lines more often? The mental - who could outsmart the other? Who could put together the strategy, the sequence of shots to give themselves the opportunity to strike the killing blow? And finally, the willpower - who was able to cling on, to give more, to believe and not falter?
In the first two, they were perfectly matched. It was like watching two gladiators trading blows in the coliseum, whilst simultaneously playing chess. Such is the beauty and intrigue of top level badminton. They naturally went one game apiece. The score line in the 3rd stayed close, the screw of tension relentlessly being tightened. Lee Chong Wei kept his nerve, and played himself ahead 19-18 at the end of the 3rd. Was this to be his time? Here, in these final two points, he could earn his country glory, silence every single critic, collect the dues that he had paid with his life so far, but, perhaps most importantly, he would be able to prove he was the very best, by proving himself against the very best.
He served 19-18. Lin Dan lifted. Lee Chong Wei tracked the shuttle and let it drop. On the line. I can only speculate as to what he was thinking at the time, but, I had been in exactly the same situation in the match of my life two years prior. At that moment, I was tracking the shuttle and left it as much in the hope of it going out, as knowing it really was out.
19-19.
With Lin Dan serving, Lee Chong Wei was quickly put on the defensive. He returned a smash, then two, then three, but could not find a way back in the rally.
19-20. The final point.
The rally went long, an agonisingly tense back and forth. Nervy. Nobody committed fully to the attack in fear of leaving themselves open. Finally though, Lee Chong Wei was again the first to crack. He lifted the shuttle long. The gold medal again slipping out of his grasp.
At this point, the badminton community was widely convinced that this would be the last Olympics for these two men. That, by Rio 2016, they would be too old to keep up with the youngsters on the block.
Such was their skill though, and the gap they had over everyone else, that they both kept playing at the highest of levels for the next four years. They both continued to win, but slowly, ever so slowly, chinks began to appear in their impenetrable armour. Lee Chong Wei played himself into a few more World Championship finals, but didn't manage to win any of them. There were rumours they would retire before 2016, and going into 2016, it was clear for all to see that Lin Dan wasn't on top form.
But Lee Chong Wei, ever the hard worker, the meek boy with head down studying, was shining brightly, nearly clean sweeping the tournaments he entered before the Olympics, barring a disastrous first round exit at the Yonex All England. The talk began again - mentally weak, easily chokes, not a winner.
Then, Rio. It seemed a cruel twist of the seeding tables that they would be seeded to meet each other in the semi finals and not the finals - but perhaps also a sign. They were both old by Badminton standards - 5 or 6 years past what was considered the prime. Were they both up to the challenge?
For the Olympics, of course they were. And so they duly met each other again.
This was now more a match of wiles - they did not have the same reserves of stamina and strength to call upon as their younger days, but again it went the distance. Two old grandmasters putting on one final show for the world. This time, it was Lee Chong Wei who triumphed.
It was not just the triumph itself that spoke to me though. It was the manner of it. Towards the end of the 3rd game, the score lines became tight again, and again Lee Chong Wei had the lead. Going into the final few points, we saw again the "never say die" champion of Lin Dan emerge - he urged his body into upping its speed again, throwing everything he had left at Lee Chong Wei. But, unlike so many times before, this time Lee Chong Wei stood and weathered the storm, and with a steady hand eked out the final points he needed for victory. This was a man who had finally conquered himself, and so in the process, conquered his opponent.
Perhaps it was the intensity of this game that led him to lose against Chen Long in the finals and take home another silver, and, I'm sure he will be disappointed. But, perhaps in his heart of hearts, and, at least in my heart, I think that he won the match that mattered.
History will place the two of them side by side and judge Lin Dan numerically the better, and I don't disagree. Sport can be cruel like that. But sport can also be beautiful, and this was perhaps one of the most beautiful tales in sport, told through a score of years of a mutual friendship, a respectful rivalry, and of a man who would not give up, and in the end, mastered himself.
At the start of this post, I wanted to write to lament the passing of time. The fact that it will forget. That all this will be washed away like sandcastles by the sea. That our heroes will all grow old such that they cannot perform the heroics we admire them for anymore. Neither Lin Dan nor Lee Chong Wei will most likely play another Olympics again. Lee Chong Wei will most likely never win the gold.
But maybe that's okay. Time may pass, but Lee Chong Wei showed us that it is always the time to try your best, and as we go about our day to day battling our own fears and doubts, engaging in our own matches against life, we may remember that although he didn't get the prize that many think he deserved, in the end he won the battle that he needed to win.
Perhaps that is the more important thing.
Exercising this ignored muscle to put words to paper, because for the first time in a long time I feel like I have something to say. It's a bit painful, like trying to stretch out from a cramped position that's been held for too long.
I can almost feel the rust flaking off hinges that haven't moved in too long a time.
Time.
It lends strength and vigour and all a man dare take, but eventually, demands repayment.
Today, a metaphorical torch was passed at the Olympics. Lin Dan, the super-dan of China, was ousted by a youngster 10 years his junior and sent home medal-less, and, mirrored in the gold medal match, long-time rival Lee Chong Wei was once again denied, this time not by Lin Dan himself, but by the new leading light of Chen Long.
My heart ached as I watched him stand not quite atop the podium, but in the place he has stood the last three times of competing, and watched him put on the brave face once more. 3 Olympic silver medals is no mean feat, but I dare say he would trade all of them in a heartbeat for one gold.
Sport is a microcosm of life where what is still wild about us can be allowed to run amok. And so it can be cruel, not out of malice, but because that is nature. The scores will not favour for injury or age, will not yield for dedication nor passion but will only respond to being won on the day. The record books will discard all but the winners and consign their journeys to footnotes, if they are lucky.
I grew up watching Lin Dan and Lee Chong Wei ascend to their positions as the two kings of Badminton, and from there witnessed their utter dominance of the sport - they were playing in their own league of two.
I am Chinese. It was natural for me to favour Lin Dan - super dan. He was the megastar that set the world alight, the quintessential champion. There was an indomitable aura about him, one which allowed him to win everything there was to win in badminton, and multiple times for good measure. If there was someone you could wish to emulate, not just for their skill on court, but for their mental toughness, self-belief and confidence, it would be Lin Dan. He is indisputably, undeniably, the greatest player of all time that the sport has ever seen.
But, towards the latter half of their careers, it was the story of Lee Chong Wei, told through their now 37 head to head matches spanning those two illustrious careers, that ended up capturing my heart.
The yin to Lin Dan's yang, you could imagine him as the quiet studious boy in school to Lin Dan's troublemaker, and unfortunately, when they came to blows early on, Lee Chong Wei would crumple under Lin Dan even though he would have more than the measure of everyone else. None of the beatdowns were more pronounced than at the 2008 Olympic Finals, where despite being ranked World No. 2 behind Lee Chong Wei, Lin Dan swept to victory. Nobody doubted that Lee Chong Wei had the physical ability to play the shots, the stamina to last, and the skill to win, but...on the day, he lost in a scoreline that barely saw him cross into double figures in either of the games they played.
A lesser player may never have been the same again after that match. But, Lee Chong Wei didn't let that break him. He went away and trained, he went away and traded sweat, blood and tears for any improvement he could find.
In the years to come, as they faced off against each other on the courts, you could see how Lee Chong Wei grew, how his game came to mature and evolve, to become more confident and assertive. He started displaying flashes of that killer edge that one could say Lin Dan was born with, and his results spoke for themselves - he won, and won, and won. Except when it really mattered. The World Championships (of which he still hasn't won), the Yonex All England, the Olympics.
The breakthrough, if one could call it that, came at the 2011 Yonex All England championships. Where, having taken it the previous year in an unconvincing performance against Japan's Kenichi Tago (a victory, yes - but to prove you are the best, you have to prove yourself against the best) Lee Chong Wei again faced up to Lin Dan. This time though, he prevailed in straight sets over his arch rival. Was the tide finally about to turn?
The hallmark of a great champion is how they can handle their losses, and how they can use this energy to come back stronger, and so it was with Lin Dan. So when they met in the subsequent tournaments - the World Championships, the Yonex All England's, it was again Lin Dan who came out on top. At the time, watching the pair of them play, with the scorelines always so close, it seemed like they were so well matched that the winner could have been decided by a coin flip. But, such was the magic of Lin Dan that in the end, those coin flips always went his way.
The 2012 Olympics came, and with their aging, many presumed this was the last chance for both men to show their best. Lin Dan would strive to win the gold again - to defend a gold was a feat no player had achieved before. Lee Chong Wei would strive to win his first gold. So they progressed through the tournaments, duly crushing all opponents before them, to meet in the finals.
It was a delirious match. Watching two artisans of their craft, at the peak of their respective powers, trading blow for blow and giving their all is a thing of awe and beauty. It was a match of three simultaneous contests: the physical - who could dance across the court better than the other? Smash harder? Hit the lines more often? The mental - who could outsmart the other? Who could put together the strategy, the sequence of shots to give themselves the opportunity to strike the killing blow? And finally, the willpower - who was able to cling on, to give more, to believe and not falter?
In the first two, they were perfectly matched. It was like watching two gladiators trading blows in the coliseum, whilst simultaneously playing chess. Such is the beauty and intrigue of top level badminton. They naturally went one game apiece. The score line in the 3rd stayed close, the screw of tension relentlessly being tightened. Lee Chong Wei kept his nerve, and played himself ahead 19-18 at the end of the 3rd. Was this to be his time? Here, in these final two points, he could earn his country glory, silence every single critic, collect the dues that he had paid with his life so far, but, perhaps most importantly, he would be able to prove he was the very best, by proving himself against the very best.
He served 19-18. Lin Dan lifted. Lee Chong Wei tracked the shuttle and let it drop. On the line. I can only speculate as to what he was thinking at the time, but, I had been in exactly the same situation in the match of my life two years prior. At that moment, I was tracking the shuttle and left it as much in the hope of it going out, as knowing it really was out.
19-19.
With Lin Dan serving, Lee Chong Wei was quickly put on the defensive. He returned a smash, then two, then three, but could not find a way back in the rally.
19-20. The final point.
The rally went long, an agonisingly tense back and forth. Nervy. Nobody committed fully to the attack in fear of leaving themselves open. Finally though, Lee Chong Wei was again the first to crack. He lifted the shuttle long. The gold medal again slipping out of his grasp.
At this point, the badminton community was widely convinced that this would be the last Olympics for these two men. That, by Rio 2016, they would be too old to keep up with the youngsters on the block.
Such was their skill though, and the gap they had over everyone else, that they both kept playing at the highest of levels for the next four years. They both continued to win, but slowly, ever so slowly, chinks began to appear in their impenetrable armour. Lee Chong Wei played himself into a few more World Championship finals, but didn't manage to win any of them. There were rumours they would retire before 2016, and going into 2016, it was clear for all to see that Lin Dan wasn't on top form.
But Lee Chong Wei, ever the hard worker, the meek boy with head down studying, was shining brightly, nearly clean sweeping the tournaments he entered before the Olympics, barring a disastrous first round exit at the Yonex All England. The talk began again - mentally weak, easily chokes, not a winner.
Then, Rio. It seemed a cruel twist of the seeding tables that they would be seeded to meet each other in the semi finals and not the finals - but perhaps also a sign. They were both old by Badminton standards - 5 or 6 years past what was considered the prime. Were they both up to the challenge?
For the Olympics, of course they were. And so they duly met each other again.
This was now more a match of wiles - they did not have the same reserves of stamina and strength to call upon as their younger days, but again it went the distance. Two old grandmasters putting on one final show for the world. This time, it was Lee Chong Wei who triumphed.
It was not just the triumph itself that spoke to me though. It was the manner of it. Towards the end of the 3rd game, the score lines became tight again, and again Lee Chong Wei had the lead. Going into the final few points, we saw again the "never say die" champion of Lin Dan emerge - he urged his body into upping its speed again, throwing everything he had left at Lee Chong Wei. But, unlike so many times before, this time Lee Chong Wei stood and weathered the storm, and with a steady hand eked out the final points he needed for victory. This was a man who had finally conquered himself, and so in the process, conquered his opponent.
Perhaps it was the intensity of this game that led him to lose against Chen Long in the finals and take home another silver, and, I'm sure he will be disappointed. But, perhaps in his heart of hearts, and, at least in my heart, I think that he won the match that mattered.
History will place the two of them side by side and judge Lin Dan numerically the better, and I don't disagree. Sport can be cruel like that. But sport can also be beautiful, and this was perhaps one of the most beautiful tales in sport, told through a score of years of a mutual friendship, a respectful rivalry, and of a man who would not give up, and in the end, mastered himself.
At the start of this post, I wanted to write to lament the passing of time. The fact that it will forget. That all this will be washed away like sandcastles by the sea. That our heroes will all grow old such that they cannot perform the heroics we admire them for anymore. Neither Lin Dan nor Lee Chong Wei will most likely play another Olympics again. Lee Chong Wei will most likely never win the gold.
But maybe that's okay. Time may pass, but Lee Chong Wei showed us that it is always the time to try your best, and as we go about our day to day battling our own fears and doubts, engaging in our own matches against life, we may remember that although he didn't get the prize that many think he deserved, in the end he won the battle that he needed to win.
Perhaps that is the more important thing.
