I've seen Yao shoot a couple of long jumpers and they didn't look pretty. I'm sure he can hit them but he's just not used to doing it in a game...in the NBA.
Song Tao was the starting center for the Chinese national team in 1980s. Prior to his time, China always had taller centers but never them good athletes for that position. Song was the first center who was also a very good athlete. He was a much better skilled player than Yao, he was 6'11. He was drafted by the Hawaks to play C/PF, but a career ending injury stopped his dream. The Hawaks had him in their camp, and rehab center for almost a year, but he never recovered.
i love this answer -------------------- ''How does he feel about the chance to be China's first billionaire?'' Yao rolls his eyes. ''I still eat three meals a day,'' he says through Pine. --------------- yao is so clever and cute big boy.....
I love IT, but damn..., he's on crack... It's the exact opposite, at times, when Yao doesn't touch the ball...
http://www.boston.com/dailyglobe2/056/sports/It_s_still_a_restricted_area_in_some_ways+.shtml It's still a restricted area in some ways Stacked with raw talent, system needs fine-tuning By Jackie MacMullan, Globe Staff, 2/25/2003 Last of a three-part series SHANGHAI -- Liu Wei shivers as he laces up his Adidas sneakers. He is a starter for the Shanghai Sharks and Yao Ming's best friend. Together they won the first Chinese Basketball Association championship for Shanghai, but that was last year. Yao since has jetted off to Houston to play for the Rockets of the NBA. He outdistanced the great Shaquille O'Neal in All-Star voting and has become a wildly popular pitchman for laptops and credit cards. Liu was left behind to contend with a frigid, half-empty arena of discerning fans who smoke incessantly, blow whistles, beat drums, and lament the national treasure that has slipped through their grasp. The more Yao flourishes, the more the NBA turns to China as the next frontier for fresh, raw talent. The sheer number of people in the country makes it an appealing recruiting ground. Patrick Baumann, the secretary general-elect of FIBA, estimates there are more than 400 million schoolchildren in China. ''Imagine,'' Baumann says, ''if every one of them had a basketball.'' That would require an overhaul of the Chinese sports system. Officials identify potential prospects at an early age, pluck them from primary school, and enroll them in specialized athletic academies. In the case of basketball, size is often a significant criterion. The problem with this method is that athletes who develop later (Michael Jordan, you recall, was cut from his high school team as a sophomore) are neither monitored nor developed after that initial evaluation. ''I have asked myself many times, `Why can't we cultivate teams with strong talent?' '' says Zhang Ningfei, vice president of the Chinese University Basketball Association (China's equivalent of the NCAA) at an international basketball forum in Beijing. ''We need to nurture our talents at an early age, from within our schools. We need better training. We need to work on these things.'' In the meantime, many aspects of Chinese basketball are restricted by the ideology that things must operate the way they've always operated, even if it means sending the paying public home with frostbite. China and basketball Rockets center Yao Ming's stunning success has forced NBA teams to reexamine Asia, and China in particular, where rumors of more than 100 7-footers in one Chinese village have sent scouts scrambling. (AFP Photo) Yao's statistics RELATED COVERAGE In today's Globe Sport is still a restricted area In yesterday's Globe The Tao of Yao In Sunday's Globe Two cultures, one popular sport ABOUT THE SERIES Jackie MacMullan delivers a three-part series on Yao Ming and Chinese basketball. Yao has become the focal point of China's emergence as a breeding ground for NBA-caliber talent, and MacMullan tells how it started, how Yao has become a star in the process, and what lies ahead for China on pro basketball's world stage. The Chinese never have understood why it is necessary to heat arenas. It is not uncommon for cigarette smoke to form a hazy cloud above courtside, so the doors are flung open, even on a December night when an icy rain soaks the city and pelts the patrons who linger in the lobby. Shanghai's American backup center, Kevin Byrne, bundles himself in a parka as his teammates do layups. The indoor temperature hovers around 42 degrees. ''The players dress like they're playing football in Foxborough in January,'' says Lanny Van Eman, the former Celtics assistant who coached in China last year. ''I coached 80 percent of my games wearing a topcoat over my suit and tie. I could see my breath in the huddle.'' The Lu Wan Sports Arena may have been The House That Yao Built, but as Liu and his teammates prepare for Shanghai's season opener, there is no indication that Yao patrolled this court a year ago. There isn't even a championship banner commemorating the pulsating victory in the finals over the Chinese army team, the Bayi Rockets (this country's version of the Lakers), who had won six straight titles before Yao and the Sharks knocked them off. Yao's heroics did not exempt him from living in unheated dormitories with few amenities and drawing a salary well below the average of American imports like Byrne, who couldn't get a job in the NBA but can make $80,000-$100,000 a season in China, with a private (and heated) apartment thrown in. Even in the wake of their favorite son becoming the No. 1 NBA draft pick, the Sharks have no Yao T-shirts for sale. There are no Yao candy bars, sweatbands, or autographed photos (four weeks after the opener, the Sharks will retire his jersey in a simple pregame ceremony). On clear nights, vendors occasionally set up carts in front of the arena to sell Sharks T-shirts, but there is no contingency for rain. The demand, even as Yao's international fame swells, simply isn't that great. ''Looks like business is a little bumpy,'' observes Terry Rhoads, who worked for Nike Asia for eight years, and since has founded Zou Marketing. ''See the billboards around the arena? There's only one multinational board -- the Motorola one. The rest are local. And see those placards that say `Chinese Basketball Association'? Those are the ads they couldn't sell.'' In the United States, Yao could sell just about anything. He has melted hearts touting Apple Computers alongside Verne Troyer (''Mini-Me'') and Visa cards alongside Yogi Berra. The demand for his services has been so overwhelming that his agent, Bill Duffy, has put on the brakes and suspended any further endorsements until the NBA season is over. Only a couple of Chinese companies were approved before the embargo was announced. ''It's only now that Chinese companies are realizing they've missed the boat,'' Rhoads says. ''With all the billboards they have in Shanghai, no one ever thought to put one up of Yao Ming. They have this great resource, and they don't know how to utilize it.'' A `Chinese Barkley' The Sharks are not optimistic about their chances this season without their franchise center. They are playing the Liaoning Hunters, whose best player is Guo Shi-Qiang. He's a 6-foot-3-inch guard wearing brown sneakers that could easily be mistaken for Hush Puppies. He was once a member of the national team. Frank Sha, a Shanghai native who works with Rhoads and is Yao's friend, estimates that Guo makes around $20,000 a season. His American teammate, Robert Bayden, makes four times that. Bayden, a 6-11 center, stands in the huddle with a translator awaiting instructions from his coach. His Liaoning uniform says ''Robert'' on the back. He is paid more, Sha explains, because he is American and because he is tall. Just before tipoff, Shanghai's Ma Jian, the first player from China to play at a major college program in the US, jogs over to say hello to Rhoads. Ma played for Rick Majerus at Utah and made it to two preseason Clippers camps. He couldn't stick either time. ''I love the NBA,'' says Ma, shaking a reporter's hand vigorously. ''I love Americans. But you must stay away from me. I am very controversial.'' He smiles broadly, then ambles off to join his team. Rhoads explains that Ma played for Ao Shen two years ago and led a valiant effort against Yao and the Sharks that came up short when an exhausted Ma missed two free throws at the end of the game. His coach, Winston Li, exploded, and accused Ma of throwing the game, according to Rhoads. He booted him off the team and refused to pay him for the remainder of the season. ''So Ma figures he's a free agent, since Winston Li won't let him play and won't pay him,'' Rhoads says. ''But the CBA wouldn't sign off on that.'' Ma was forced to sit out all of last season as well. After a year and a half of no basketball income, he was allowed to join the Sharks for the 2002-03 season, and tonight he is making his debut. ''He is a personality in a place that does not reward personality,'' says Rhoads. ''He's like a Chinese Barkley. He has an opinion on everything, and it gets him in trouble.'' Suspicious minds Although the Chinese Basketball Association has made great strides, there is still an element of mistrust and suspicion to it. While Yao has been a model citizen in the NBA, his predecessor, Wang Zhi-Zhi, caused an international incident when, in defiance of his government, he refused to go back to China for summer training. Wang, who played 60 games over two seasons with the Mavericks and is now with the Clippers, later apologized, but his actions convinced some Chinese they should be wary of the NBA and its interest in their homegrown talent. ''We wanted to sign him,'' says Mavericks coach Don Nelson. ''But he wouldn't go back [to China] like he was supposed to. I gave them my word. I handed Wang the tickets to go home, but he wouldn't. He tied our hands.'' ''It remains the biggest fear of Chinese officials,'' says former Hawaii coach Bruce O'Neil, who secured a contract to train the Chinese national team. ''They are afraid if they send their top talent to the United States, they won't come back.'' No wonder. In the US, the top players fly first class, make millions, and are protected by a union. In China, players wear gloves in warmups, can have their pay withheld arbitrarily, and are subject to two, sometimes three practices a day -- even more if the coach feels his club has underperformed. ''That's one of the big things that has to change: the way they train their athletes,'' says Tom McCarthy, a Boston native who relocated to China 12 years ago and has been active in the development of the game here. ''They have the old army mentality: run 'em until they drop.'' O'Neil has started an online coaching program in Mandarin with hopes of certifying at least 200,000 Chinese coaches within the next two years. His program includes training techniques, defensive philosophies, and the psychology of coaching. He has hosted most of the top coaches in Asia at his basketball academy in Oregon and has built up their trust by offering them his expertise and his top-notch facilities, with little financial reward. ''People talk about the grass roots of basketball,'' says O'Neil. ''This country has none. I'm trying to help them develop some.'' Guard play is weak There is no better indicator of China's glaring need for guidance than the guard play in the Shanghai-Liaoning game. The Sharks jump out to a 16-4 lead, but that is mostly on the strength of American big man Dan McClintock. Bayden briefly answers for the Hunters, but then his backcourt tries to take over and gets whistled for two 24-second violations. ''Ask them why they've gone away from me,'' Bayden barks to his translator during a timeout. The interpreter shrugs and does not relay the message. When Ma checks into the game midway through the first half, he receives a roaring ovation, but the cheers turn quickly to groans as he hoists up a 3-pointer that misses badly. On the same night that Ma is missing jumpers in Shanghai, former Fall River, Mass., star Chris Herren is dropping in 60 points for the Beijing Ducks. Herren dominated most games he played in before he blew out his knee two months into the season and was forced to come home. ''The guards are China's weakest link,'' Rhoads says. ''When US guards come here, they see a lot of their passes bounce off their teammates' faces. The big men aren't used to no-looks, or alley-oops.'' Rhoads and O'Neil point to 14-year-old Chen Juangha as the gem who could turn the tide for his country. O'Neil spent a month with Chen at his academy last summer and believes that, with the proper tutoring, the young guard could be a significant contributor for the 2008 Olympic team in the Beijing Games. ''He's very skilled,'' O'Neil says. ''I had a bunch of high school coaches come and look at him, and they all say he'd be first-team All State. He's got the shooting ability and the instincts, and he wants desperately to come to the US to train, but I don't know if they will let him. Chen would benefit greatly from the first-rate coaching -- and competition -- he would find in America.'' Work ahead With the Beijing Olympics five years away, China is feeling pressure to upgrade its teams -- and fast. Baumann outlined a number of suggestions during his speech at the Beijing basketball forum, and one of the top priorities, he said, should be to expose their players to better competition outside Asia. ''The level of play between the elite players and second-level players is far too dramatic,'' Baumann says. ''It's hard to raise the level of play just going against each other. They need to play other countries, other styles, better players. ''China should have better results. They should be the top country in basketball.'' Rhoads would like to see the day when the CBA doesn't fall back on American big men with limited skills but develops top players of its own to fill out its rosters. ''I hope I'm still here when it happens,'' he says. ''These are good people here. They deserve success. They love the game.'' As the Shanghai Sharks put the finishing touches on a 105-90 season-opening victory, the sparse crowd of less than 3,000 ventures out into the foggy, rain-soaked streets. Yao's father, Yao Zhi Yuan, greets Rhoads as he exits, saying, ''That is a good game for them.'' He seems relieved that Yao's former team can succeed without his son, their hometown hero. That success is short-lived. Following a three-game losing streak, Byrne -- and his snow parka -- is sent home. Shanghai keeps losing. Word of Yao's astounding success in the NBA only adds salt to the wound. And yet, maintains Xu Jichang, a former Chinese basketball star and current television commentator, Yao ultimately will provide the impetus China needs to take the necessary steps to excel. ''Children need a model to follow,'' says Xu. ''Yao is it. He's in the NBA, he handles himself well, and kids all over China are saying, `If I keep at this, that could be me.' '' George Postolos, the president of the Rockets who visited China last December, says waiting for the next Yao Ming is the wrong strategy. ''If they could just raise the minimum standard of their national team players, it would have as much effect on the team as another Yao Ming,'' Postolos says. Whether the Chinese government will take the extraordinary step of allowing a young prospect like Chen Juangha to go to high school and college in the United States, instead of preparing for the Olympics in his native land, remains to be seen. ''There's a sense over here that China doesn't want to be a developmental league for the NBA,'' McCarthy said. ''But, at the same time, they'd like to compete at the highest level, among the best in the world.'' How close are they to reaching that goal? ''They've identified 50 of their guys,'' McCarthy says. ''Now, they've got to get to know the other 150 million.'' End of series
