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The young athlete had the prototypical build of a gymnast. He was small， with a low-center of gravity， but built entirely out of muscle. Broad shouldered， with a rippling six-pack and a steely look of determination on his face， he knew what he wanted and what he had to do to achieve it. He alternated between a set of pushups and a set of situps， the latter of which was performed a couple of feet above the ground， with his legs wrapped around a horizontal wooden pole. “One more， one more，” his coach yelled， as the athlete’s legs quivered， threatening to give way at any moment.
This could have been the training routine of any elite athlete. The difference in this case was that this athlete was a 6-year-old boy. His story is but one of hundreds from China’s renowned Shichahai Sports School.
Shichahai， China’s “cradle of champions，”is not simply a stopping-off point for the gifted. It is one of the world’s top breeding grounds for Olympic competitors， with an honor role boasting over 200 national champions， seven Olympic gold-medalists， 33 world champions and martial arts film star Jet Li.
From the outside， the school is a fairly unassuming compound. Located near the hive of activity that is Beijing’s Qianhai Lake， Shichahai appears rather quaint in comparison. Inside， the school is a well-oiled machine， with rotors churning at full capacity and the athletic production line set to overdrive.
Martial artists， gymnasts， boxers， fencers and volleyball， ping pong and badminton players dart between the 13 training halls that stretch across the 40，000-square-meter complex. These are the halls where Olympic champions like Luo Wei， the 2004 taekwondo gold medalist and Zhang Yining， fourtime ping pong gold medalist， honed their craft. Surveying the athletes， people could not help wondering： Were these China’s next Olympic superstars？
Chinese dominance
Shichahai is at the forefront of China’s sporting ascendancy. In 1986， when Shichahai was transformed from a recreation center to an elite sports school， China had only just entered the ranks of Olympic competitors， with their first appearance at the 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles.
A generation later， China claimed top honors at the 2008 Beijing Olympics， earning 51 gold medals and breaking the United States’record for total gold medals won at a nonboycotted Olympics.
China’s success was no mere hometown advantage however. This was the result of a concerted effort from the Chinese Government and schools like Shichahai to stake their claim as the world’s premier sporting nation. The Chinese Government had long realized economic clout alone was insufficient. China’s dominance also had to extend to the sporting arena.
“For the government， it was important to validate its strength through sport， and to dispel the image of China as the ‘sick man of Asia’，”Shi Fenghua， vice principal at Shichahai， told NY Daily News.
Today， no sports fan would refer to China as a “sick man.” The country’s transformation from sporting also-ran to global heavyweight has been staggering. And it was on the courts and fields of Shichahai， and similar schools， where this athletic revolution was fulfilled.
For many of Shichahai’s students， the process began when they were as young as 4 years old. Scouts and coaches combed the countryside， seeking out kids with long arms or double-jointed elbows， and then， with some well-directed scholarship funds， placed them on the Shichahai production line.
Jamie Metzl， an executive vice president of the Asia Society， told the Inquirer that this process is the key difference between American and Chinese training academies.
“Our [American] system is designed for the people with passion and talent，” Metzl said.“Theirs is much more centrally organized. China is a country run by engineers.”
A well-oiled machine
Upon entering the facilities， one is met with the sound of body blows， whizzing shuttlecocks and panting athletes. These are the sounds of the Shichahai machine， whirring at full capacity.
The facilities are well maintained but far from fancy， with nothing to suggest that visitors are in one of the country’s most affluent sporting centers. Every yuan given to Shichahai goes toward the state-of-the-art equipment， decorated coaches and hi-tech sports science， making the school the envy of the sporting world. Even the Chinese flags adorning the walls provide a reminder of Shichahai’s purpose： churning out champions.
Steve Roush， former chief of sports performance for the U.S. Olympic Committee， said China’s sporting success can be attributed to their training methods. Roush told NY Daily News that in China “there’s no rush to get kids playing games the way there is in our country. The emphasis here is on skill development.”
And this is exactly what is happening at Shichahai. The key to success appeared to be repetition， with coaches favoring technique over actual competition. The tiny ping pong players are fed ball after ball， slapping each of them back in turn. Not every shot hits the table， mind you. But that is hardly the point.
For Shichahai， hitting 1，000 balls is better than hitting 100. And when one basket of balls is finished， the students do it all over again.
This work ethic is the backbone of everything the students do at Shichahai. The school’s 600 or so students rise at 6.30 a.m. for six hours of training each day. Coaches and teachers control everything from students’ diets to when they can visit their families.
A fresh start
Prior to the 2008 Beijing Olympics， this commitment was criticized by the international media. Rumors of beatings and photographs of small children crying during their training sessions circulated on the Internet.
These allegations subsided， however， after the Beijing Olympics， with AFP reporting that following China’s record-breaking medal haul， a more balanced training regime was installed.
Shi acknowledged this， saying that Shichahai has shifted its focus from sheer quantity of training hours to developing more effective and efficient coaching methods.
“What we focus on now is the training quality，” Shi said. “We get coaches involved in scientific research groups which train them to improve a student’s performance in less time than before.”
A crucial development has been the recognition that athletes require more downtime. When China’s star hurdler， Liu Xiang， broke down at the London Olympics four years earlier， it was widely asked： Have Chinese athletes been overworked？
Shichahai gymnastics coach Jiao Gengbo told AFP that he now tries to strike a balance between students’ time at the gym and time to themselves.
“I think it’s really just about being rational. To train excessively is not the right way，” he said. “We need to spend equal time in studying， relaxing and training.”
Yet this does not mean that Shichahai has lost its competitive edge. The approach may have changed but the goals are exactly the same. Shichahai students are not interested in simply competing； they are here to become champions.
“I want to go to the Olympics. I can play table tennis well， so this is my dream. I can win the gold medal，” Yu Zhengyang， 11 years old， told AFP.
For Yu， the expectations of the government are irrelevant. With one eye set on the 2020 Olympics， Yu’s biggest source of pressure does not come from his coaches or the government but from himself.
If anyone had any doubts that Shichahai’s new attitude had affected the professionalism of the school， they were silenced following a demonstration from some of the school’s martial arts champions.
Graceful and fearsome， the performances showcased Shichahai’s finest quality： its commitment to excellence. They more than lived up to their reputation as the country’s preeminent martial artists.
Jim Scherr， former chief executive of the U.S. Olympic Committee， told NY Daily News in 2008 that China’s sporting academies are “going to be a formidable system we’re going to have to contend with for a long， long time.”
Four and a half years on， and this does not look set to change.
This could have been the training routine of any elite athlete. The difference in this case was that this athlete was a 6-year-old boy. His story is but one of hundreds from China’s renowned Shichahai Sports School.
Shichahai， China’s “cradle of champions，”is not simply a stopping-off point for the gifted. It is one of the world’s top breeding grounds for Olympic competitors， with an honor role boasting over 200 national champions， seven Olympic gold-medalists， 33 world champions and martial arts film star Jet Li.
From the outside， the school is a fairly unassuming compound. Located near the hive of activity that is Beijing’s Qianhai Lake， Shichahai appears rather quaint in comparison. Inside， the school is a well-oiled machine， with rotors churning at full capacity and the athletic production line set to overdrive.
Martial artists， gymnasts， boxers， fencers and volleyball， ping pong and badminton players dart between the 13 training halls that stretch across the 40，000-square-meter complex. These are the halls where Olympic champions like Luo Wei， the 2004 taekwondo gold medalist and Zhang Yining， fourtime ping pong gold medalist， honed their craft. Surveying the athletes， people could not help wondering： Were these China’s next Olympic superstars？
Chinese dominance
Shichahai is at the forefront of China’s sporting ascendancy. In 1986， when Shichahai was transformed from a recreation center to an elite sports school， China had only just entered the ranks of Olympic competitors， with their first appearance at the 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles.
A generation later， China claimed top honors at the 2008 Beijing Olympics， earning 51 gold medals and breaking the United States’record for total gold medals won at a nonboycotted Olympics.
China’s success was no mere hometown advantage however. This was the result of a concerted effort from the Chinese Government and schools like Shichahai to stake their claim as the world’s premier sporting nation. The Chinese Government had long realized economic clout alone was insufficient. China’s dominance also had to extend to the sporting arena.
“For the government， it was important to validate its strength through sport， and to dispel the image of China as the ‘sick man of Asia’，”Shi Fenghua， vice principal at Shichahai， told NY Daily News.
Today， no sports fan would refer to China as a “sick man.” The country’s transformation from sporting also-ran to global heavyweight has been staggering. And it was on the courts and fields of Shichahai， and similar schools， where this athletic revolution was fulfilled.
For many of Shichahai’s students， the process began when they were as young as 4 years old. Scouts and coaches combed the countryside， seeking out kids with long arms or double-jointed elbows， and then， with some well-directed scholarship funds， placed them on the Shichahai production line.
Jamie Metzl， an executive vice president of the Asia Society， told the Inquirer that this process is the key difference between American and Chinese training academies.
“Our [American] system is designed for the people with passion and talent，” Metzl said.“Theirs is much more centrally organized. China is a country run by engineers.”
A well-oiled machine
Upon entering the facilities， one is met with the sound of body blows， whizzing shuttlecocks and panting athletes. These are the sounds of the Shichahai machine， whirring at full capacity.
The facilities are well maintained but far from fancy， with nothing to suggest that visitors are in one of the country’s most affluent sporting centers. Every yuan given to Shichahai goes toward the state-of-the-art equipment， decorated coaches and hi-tech sports science， making the school the envy of the sporting world. Even the Chinese flags adorning the walls provide a reminder of Shichahai’s purpose： churning out champions.
Steve Roush， former chief of sports performance for the U.S. Olympic Committee， said China’s sporting success can be attributed to their training methods. Roush told NY Daily News that in China “there’s no rush to get kids playing games the way there is in our country. The emphasis here is on skill development.”
And this is exactly what is happening at Shichahai. The key to success appeared to be repetition， with coaches favoring technique over actual competition. The tiny ping pong players are fed ball after ball， slapping each of them back in turn. Not every shot hits the table， mind you. But that is hardly the point.
For Shichahai， hitting 1，000 balls is better than hitting 100. And when one basket of balls is finished， the students do it all over again.
This work ethic is the backbone of everything the students do at Shichahai. The school’s 600 or so students rise at 6.30 a.m. for six hours of training each day. Coaches and teachers control everything from students’ diets to when they can visit their families.
A fresh start
Prior to the 2008 Beijing Olympics， this commitment was criticized by the international media. Rumors of beatings and photographs of small children crying during their training sessions circulated on the Internet.
These allegations subsided， however， after the Beijing Olympics， with AFP reporting that following China’s record-breaking medal haul， a more balanced training regime was installed.
Shi acknowledged this， saying that Shichahai has shifted its focus from sheer quantity of training hours to developing more effective and efficient coaching methods.
“What we focus on now is the training quality，” Shi said. “We get coaches involved in scientific research groups which train them to improve a student’s performance in less time than before.”
A crucial development has been the recognition that athletes require more downtime. When China’s star hurdler， Liu Xiang， broke down at the London Olympics four years earlier， it was widely asked： Have Chinese athletes been overworked？
Shichahai gymnastics coach Jiao Gengbo told AFP that he now tries to strike a balance between students’ time at the gym and time to themselves.
“I think it’s really just about being rational. To train excessively is not the right way，” he said. “We need to spend equal time in studying， relaxing and training.”
Yet this does not mean that Shichahai has lost its competitive edge. The approach may have changed but the goals are exactly the same. Shichahai students are not interested in simply competing； they are here to become champions.
“I want to go to the Olympics. I can play table tennis well， so this is my dream. I can win the gold medal，” Yu Zhengyang， 11 years old， told AFP.
For Yu， the expectations of the government are irrelevant. With one eye set on the 2020 Olympics， Yu’s biggest source of pressure does not come from his coaches or the government but from himself.
If anyone had any doubts that Shichahai’s new attitude had affected the professionalism of the school， they were silenced following a demonstration from some of the school’s martial arts champions.
Graceful and fearsome， the performances showcased Shichahai’s finest quality： its commitment to excellence. They more than lived up to their reputation as the country’s preeminent martial artists.
Jim Scherr， former chief executive of the U.S. Olympic Committee， told NY Daily News in 2008 that China’s sporting academies are “going to be a formidable system we’re going to have to contend with for a long， long time.”
Four and a half years on， and this does not look set to change.