that
Gear
magazine had photographed in the nude (âHey, I ran my ass off for this bodyâ was her response to the media; âIâm proud of itâ). After she had blasted her winning shot to the left side of the lunging Chinese goalkeeper, Chastain pulled off her shirt and fell to her knees in front of the net, wearing a black sports bra as she clenched her fists in a triumphant pose that would make the cover of the next issue of
Newsweek
under the headline GIRLS RULE!
I stood in front of my television set without elation as the victorious U.S. team continued to celebrate on the field, and I kept watching as the roving eye of the camera zoomed in on the stadiumâs multitudes of American revelers with their smiling and patriotically painted faces and their party hats and horns, embracing and kissingâit was a midsummer prelude to New Yearâs Eve, and overlooking the scene was a big balloon, the Goodyear blimp. But my own thoughts were now concentrated on an individual who had disappeared from the screen, the young woman from China, Liu Ying, who had missed her kick.
I imagined her at this moment sitting tearfully in the locker room. Nothing in the life of this young woman of twenty-five could have prepared her for what she must have been feeling, for never in the history of China had a single person so suddenly been embarrassed in front of
so many
peopleâincluding 100 million from her home country. Was she surrounded now in the locker room by sympathetic teammates? Was she sitting in isolation after being rebuked by her coach? Was the coach at fault for selecting her as a kicker when he might have known that she was too physically exhausted and mentally distracted to meet the test? Would the bureaucrats who ruled over the Partyâs sports apparatus soon replace the coach? If he retained his job, and if Liu Ying were not demoted from the national team, would the coach choose her in the future to take a penalty kick in an important game?
I was asking questions as if I were a born-again sportswriter with access to the locker room, and if I were,
she
would have been my story, she who would probably not sleep tonight and might forever be haunted by the remembrance of her woeful moment in the sun while much of the world was watching. Or was I overdramatizing, overstating the sensibilities of this young athlete? Among the supposed strengths of a successful athlete is the capacity to overcome oneâs shortcomings and mistakes by not dwelling upon them, by not obsessing over them, by
forgetting
them, andâquoting the tiresome term of the 1990sâmoving on. And yet it seemed to me that Liu Yingâs failed penalty kick was momentous and heartrending in ways well beyond the blown save by Mariano Rivera of the Yankees, and even the pounding humiliation that I can recall watching decades ago as it was being inflicted by Muhammad Ali upon Floyd Patterson.
Losing the 1999 World Cup soccer title to the Americans when China was simmering with political tension, rivalry, and resentment toward the United States lent significance to this World Cup match that it would not have otherwise warranted, and it brought forth wishful expectations and nationalistic passions within the Chinese population that would not be gratified by the conclusion of this game. I could not imagine a longer and more uncomfortable airplane ride than the one scheduled to transport this player and her teammates from Los Angeles back to Beijing. In China, where it is acknowledged that most parents lack enthusiasm for the birth of females, what amount of enthusiasm would greet this particular female when she returned to her homeland? What would her family say to her? What would I say were she my daughter? What would be the response from the people who lived in her neighborhood, and from the men who headed the regimeâs sports commission?
The television cameras focused on the Americans receiving their medals. It was now
Gear
magazine had photographed in the nude (âHey, I ran my ass off for this bodyâ was her response to the media; âIâm proud of itâ). After she had blasted her winning shot to the left side of the lunging Chinese goalkeeper, Chastain pulled off her shirt and fell to her knees in front of the net, wearing a black sports bra as she clenched her fists in a triumphant pose that would make the cover of the next issue of
Newsweek
under the headline GIRLS RULE!
I stood in front of my television set without elation as the victorious U.S. team continued to celebrate on the field, and I kept watching as the roving eye of the camera zoomed in on the stadiumâs multitudes of American revelers with their smiling and patriotically painted faces and their party hats and horns, embracing and kissingâit was a midsummer prelude to New Yearâs Eve, and overlooking the scene was a big balloon, the Goodyear blimp. But my own thoughts were now concentrated on an individual who had disappeared from the screen, the young woman from China, Liu Ying, who had missed her kick.
I imagined her at this moment sitting tearfully in the locker room. Nothing in the life of this young woman of twenty-five could have prepared her for what she must have been feeling, for never in the history of China had a single person so suddenly been embarrassed in front of
so many
peopleâincluding 100 million from her home country. Was she surrounded now in the locker room by sympathetic teammates? Was she sitting in isolation after being rebuked by her coach? Was the coach at fault for selecting her as a kicker when he might have known that she was too physically exhausted and mentally distracted to meet the test? Would the bureaucrats who ruled over the Partyâs sports apparatus soon replace the coach? If he retained his job, and if Liu Ying were not demoted from the national team, would the coach choose her in the future to take a penalty kick in an important game?
I was asking questions as if I were a born-again sportswriter with access to the locker room, and if I were,
she
would have been my story, she who would probably not sleep tonight and might forever be haunted by the remembrance of her woeful moment in the sun while much of the world was watching. Or was I overdramatizing, overstating the sensibilities of this young athlete? Among the supposed strengths of a successful athlete is the capacity to overcome oneâs shortcomings and mistakes by not dwelling upon them, by not obsessing over them, by
forgetting
them, andâquoting the tiresome term of the 1990sâmoving on. And yet it seemed to me that Liu Yingâs failed penalty kick was momentous and heartrending in ways well beyond the blown save by Mariano Rivera of the Yankees, and even the pounding humiliation that I can recall watching decades ago as it was being inflicted by Muhammad Ali upon Floyd Patterson.
Losing the 1999 World Cup soccer title to the Americans when China was simmering with political tension, rivalry, and resentment toward the United States lent significance to this World Cup match that it would not have otherwise warranted, and it brought forth wishful expectations and nationalistic passions within the Chinese population that would not be gratified by the conclusion of this game. I could not imagine a longer and more uncomfortable airplane ride than the one scheduled to transport this player and her teammates from Los Angeles back to Beijing. In China, where it is acknowledged that most parents lack enthusiasm for the birth of females, what amount of enthusiasm would greet this particular female when she returned to her homeland? What would her family say to her? What would I say were she my daughter? What would be the response from the people who lived in her neighborhood, and from the men who headed the regimeâs sports commission?
The television cameras focused on the Americans receiving their medals. It was now
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