ABOUT MEN

By Peter Boylan
Advertiser Staff Writer

BEIJING — After criss-crossing China, immersing myself in culture and eating everything from frog to rabbit, I was ready for a beer and a basketball game.

And with the help of a friend, who is working in Beijing for the summer, I landed tickets to see Yao Ming and the Chinese National Team play Brazil in a warmup for the Olympics in Athens.

As a rabid sports fan and seeker of international adventure, I was stoked to have front-row seats to watch Yao wow his native crowd in the capital city. And after nine days in a country without any live sports — save for Formula One racing, tennis and soccer — I was eager to hoist a pint, watch some hoops and cheer for China.

But games aren't always as good as they look on paper.

We arrived at the Beijing Gymnasium 30 minutes late because of gridlocked traffic caused by a dust storm and a downpour. After the cab stalled twice trying to maneuver through traffic — a harrowing experience in China if you consider that people don't pay attention to speed limits or lanes — we sprinted into the nondescript arena.

I wanted a Yao jersey. Not the one he wears with the Houston Rockets; a cooler one. I wanted the maroon and gold Chinese National Team jersey with Yao's name on it.

Naturally, with Yao's international and domestic popularity — his mug is plastered in every subway station, airport and lavatory in China — finding my Yao jersey would be easy, right?

Wrong.

China, for all it has to offer, hasn't mastered marketing Yao.

For starters, the nearly 10,000-seat venue was less than a third full. The fans who did attend cheered only when Yao got the ball.

Shooting guard Du Feng put on an NBA-caliber performance — and the crowd responded with the enthusiasm of a golf gallery.

Feng was money. At one point, he scored on six straight possessions and even had time to trash talk with the Brazilian coach, who complained Feng had pushed off before nailing a 3-pointer in the face of the defender.

Feng's response? He looked at the coach and coolly pressed his finger to his lips — the universal "shush" sign.

My friend and I were loving it.

We were screaming, high-fiving and looking around at the stunned faces of Chinese fans who didn't know what to make of this 6-foot-1 hapa-haole kid and his Indian buddy, both yelling in English.

And we felt the same way about them.

Chinese basketball fans do not know how to back the home team. Yao Ming was on his way to scoring 22 points, and the crowd was responding with golf claps. Techno music played during the action, drowning out what little crowd noise there was.

I understand China is an emerging global power trying to revamp its economy while maintaining the communist government's grip on the populace.

But no jersey, no beer and no crowd at a basketball game?

Beijing was sweet, but I'll take the 'Bows at the Stan Sheriff Center any night.

Reach Peter Boylan at pboylan@honoluluadvertiser.com or 535-8110.