Yao and Chinatown

http://www.nytimes.com/2003/04/06/nyregion/06BASK.html?ex=1050724800&en=3a5c01b6a8c3f499&ei=5070

Forget the Knicks
By KELLY CROW


IN the belly of Chinatown, along a spit of green and concrete called Columbus Park, the boys speak of nothing but Yao.

America knows Yao Ming as the 7-foot-5 center for the Houston Rockets, a 22-year-old rookie already beloved for his court skills and clever television commercials. Most outsiders do not know, however, how deeply basketball is cherished here in Chinatown, and why the gangly players at Columbus Park are so grateful for Yao.

In the 1950's, the Young Men's Christian Association introduced basketball to Chinese immigrants. The neighborhood has sprouted with teams ever since, and, for just as long, it has been waiting for a professional basketball superstar with a familiar face.

True, most Chinatown teams form casually, in order to compete in weekend tournaments at neighborhood parks. And basketball leagues have always been rare because gymnasium space is so scarce.

But on the benches that ring the two courts at Columbus Park, a converted parking lot at Mulberry and Mosco Streets, the men still tell stories about teams like Chinatown Young Life. That particular group of shaggy-haired players dominated neighborhood courts in the 1970's and made local legends of boys like Paul Wong, a 6-foot guard who played for City College and the Taiwan national team before turning to a career in computer consulting.

Danny Chen, a 45-year-old software engineer, grew up playing with another locally famous team, the New York Lemons Basketball Club. Even now, he can easily remember his childhood idols: Wilt Chamberlain and Paul Wong.

"Basketball was always about mixing with other races because we had hardly any Chinese players to look up to in the sport," Mr. Chen said. "Paul Wong was the closest thing we had to a hero."

But even Mr. Wong, now 52, longed to see a Chinese ballplayer reach national recognition. Two years ago, he and others in Chinatown cheered when Wang Zhizhi joined the Dallas Mavericks. Wang was lauded as the first Chinese player in the National Basketball Association, but Mr. Wong said Wang's fans in Chinatown have since dwindled.

Last year, Wang joined the Los Angeles Clippers. By then, however, rumors were blowing through Mott Street that the Shanghai Sharks had a player worthy of the N.B.A. Sure enough, last summer, Yao made the national scene as a first-round draft pick. Mr. Wong was giddy. So was Paul Gong, another Columbus Park veteran and the president of the Asian American Youth Center, a nonprofit sports club that hopes to build a gymnasium in the neighborhood.

"Yao is our Michael Jordan," Mr. Gong said. "He's our saving grace."

Not surprisingly, Chinatown has Yao fever. Sing Tao Daily, the neighborhood's biggest Chinese-language newspaper, covers every Rockets game. Local boys and girls often sport blue Houston Rockets jerseys with Yao's number, 11, printed on the back, even though such merchandise is not yet offered on Mott Street. Instead, families buy the shirts online or at the N.B.A. store at Fifth Avenue at 52nd Street.

Many of those same families probably tried to get tickets to Madison Square Garden in late February when the Knicks beat the Rockets in a sold-out game. Plenty of people in Chinatown also continue to boycott Burger King and Radio Shack, Mr. Gong said, because both companies have endorsement contracts with Shaquille O'Neal, the Los Angeles Lakers star who taunted Yao last summer, though he later apologized.

Nowhere is the devotion more intense than in the handful of school gyms and neighborhood parks where the faithful play. Although the 30-odd boys who gather at Corlears Junior High School on Henry Street every Friday night did not name their sports club, the Rockits, after Yao's team, their coach, Denny Lee, often reminds them that Yao's agent, Simon Chan, was once himself a member of the Rockits.

On a recent Friday, several players sat on the school bleachers before practice and riffled through a copy of Slam, a basketball magazine. Yao was pictured on the cover.

"See that jersey Yao is wearing?" Ming Mui, a wistful 21 year-old, said to his teammates. "I'd buy it if I could find it.''

Mr. Mui, 21 and lanky, already owns a Houston Rockets jersey, but would not mind owning another. In February, he paid $154 for two middle-section seats to the Knicks-Rockets game at the Garden. He took his father, who began following Yao's career in China five years ago, and now, both father and son watch all of Yao's games on television, and save his newspaper clippings. They can recite all sorts of Yao trivia, including his birthday, Sept. 12, 1980.

Patrick Lee, a 17-year-old Rockit with braces, missed Yao's last game at the Garden, but he did get to see the Rockets play the Nets at the Continental Arena in the New Jersey Meadowlands. The Rockets lost, buy Yao scored 24 points.

"He's the Jackie Robinson of my generation," he said. "Now when we go play at other parks, the kids call us Yao Ming. I guess they're still judging us, but it's better than being called Jet Li," a martial-arts film star from Hong Kong.

DESPITE the hero worship, Yao's fans at Columbus Park don't hesitate to criticize his playing style. One common complaint: Yao should dunk more often, even though in China it is considered rude.

Peter Luo, 19, who was at the courts one recent afternoon, wishes Yao showed more confidence and aggressiveness. A hero should be fearless, he pointed out, and, though Chinatown is eager to bestow that title on Yao, Mr. Luo sometimes wonders if he is ready for it.

On that afternoon, the Columbus courts were clogged with at several dozen teenage boys and a few girls, all massed in pickup teams around three crooked hoops. There were no nets, no lights and no scoreboard, but the rules were tacitly understood. Each basket is a point; 16 points wins. Fouls were rarely called, and players could shout in English or Mandarin.

Peter Luo knew these courts well. When he was 8, he began walking to them every day from his home on Hester Street. He had to practice, and grow, before he was allowed to play with the better players on the northern end. Now stocky and armed with a good outside shot, he was playing that afternoon with some of his old friends, who had nicknames like Flex, Sleepy, Chalupa, Mikey and Mongo (short for Mongolian). Yao is sometimes called Xiao Juren, or little giant.

"Asian kids always feel like they have to prove themselves," Mr. Luo said. "So, when I see Yao Ming play, I can tell he's still intimidated. I see how he lets other guys push him around because they're not his color. But you know, I wish he'd come here for a little while, and then we could really see him play."