Kevin McGeary

    SHENZHEN student Zhou Yeran wrote this year about the liberating experience of sitting in an American classroom and hearing students vehemently criticizing their own country. Although Chinese society often forces one to choose words carefully, Chinese people also criticize their own country. Three obvious targets are house prices, the education system, and the men’s football team.

    For countries in which the sport is popular, the national team is an important part of the nation’s self-image. When Republic of Ireland started qualifying for tournaments in the late 1980s, their fans made a point of displaying a carnivalistic attitude in victory and defeat. This set them apart form the English fans who had a reputation for thuggery and ungraciousness, and being seen as different to the English has been an important part of Ireland’s national identity since at least the 18th century.

    The style and success of a country’s football team can become key to how that country is perceived around the world. The Brazil team, known for mixing great skill with audacity, is known as The Samba Boys, and even the most workmanlike of Brazil teams, such as the current one, are given the label. The Germany team, associated with the brutish West Germany teams of the 1970s and 1980s, and despite its current multi-ethnic, creative incarnation, has never been able to escape the stereotype of being ruthlessly pragmatic.

    A lengthy feature in The Economist last week explored the problem of football in China. The article quotes Vice President Xi Jinping, a keen football fan, as planning for the country to qualify for, host, and eventually win a world cup. Xi wisely refrained from setting a deadline for the third. The article points out, the model that China uses to produce Olympic champions is not only unsuitable for football development, its success would probably not have the desired effect on China’s soft power.

    China chooses its candidates for future Olympics at a very early age and based on the suitability of their height and build for their chosen sport. Under this system, the stocky Diego Maradona, the diminutive Lionel Messi and the lanky Socrates, who was a chain-smoker for most of his life, would have been instantly overlooked.

    Some of the most iconic teams in the history of the game won nothing but respect. These include the Holland team led by Johann Cruyff in the 1970s, and the Brazil team led by the late Socrates in the 1980s. Both teams displayed such joie de vivre that they are more famous than the West Germany and Italy teams that prevailed over them. But their attitude is unlikely to be replicated in China, a society that is dominated by the bottom line, whether it be the balance sheet or the test score. Would a skilled Chinese team play by the principle expressed by the Northern Irish footballer, Danny Blanchflower when he said: “Football is about going out and beating the other lot, not waiting for them to die of boredom”?

    Of course the government must be involved in football development, investing in foreign coaching talent and inner-city playing fields. But ultimately, Chinese football, like the film and music industries, needs to take on a life of its own.

    (The author is a Shenzhen Daily senior copy editor and writer.)