Chinese table tennis players Chen Meng and Sun Yingsha faced off in the final match of the women’s singles event at the Paris Olympics. Chen won 4-2, taking home the gold medal. Although the two are compatriots, Chinese spectators overwhelmingly cheered for Sun during the match, with some even jeering Chen, prompting a foreign journalist to ask why this was the case at a post-match news conference. This article, first published in Beijing Youth Daily, goes some way to answer that question.

Wang Chuqin, the men’s world No. 1 table tennis player, appeared on television screens around the globe this month as he triumphed alongside partner Sun Yingsha in the mixed doubles at the Paris Olympic Games. He found himself in the public eye last fall, too, but for a very different reason.

“Stay away from me! … Stop filming me, or I’ll call the police! … You’re too close, are you crazy?” These were Wang’s words as he snapped at fans crowding around him at a Chinese airport in October. Footage of the incident went viral, naturally.

Later, in an online statement released by a fan club on his behalf, Wang stated that he does not like people following him and taking his photograph at airports, training grounds, hotels, and other venues, as it causes chaos and seriously disrupts his life. “On the court, I’m an athlete. Off the court, I’m just an ordinary person,” he said. “I hope everyone can respect each other’s privacy, respect personal space, and give me some space to breathe.”

The reaction was mixed, with Wang’s statement sparking intense arguments among different fan groups over who was to blame for the clash at the airport.

It’s difficult to say when China’s fanquan or “fan circle” culture first began exerting force on the world of sport, especially table tennis. The fanatical support received by some players has elevated the popularity of this national sport to a whole new level — yet this burning passion has left some players feeling the heat.

Gu Xin, who has been following table tennis for more than 10 years, says she tries hard to distinguish between those who are fans of the sport and those who are “fans of the personality.” In her view, genuine sports fans analyze matches and accept the results, while the other camp seems to adhere to the idea that “I must hate whoever beats my idol” and believes it’s OK to regularly disparage other teammates and competitors. “They don’t love the sport itself.”

Fans in the latter category are quick to mobilize when they feel their idol has been wronged or disrespected, lashing out online with insults and even spreading potentially harmful rumors about the “offending party.” They also self-regulate: Fan club accounts on social media can come under attack for simply posting positive content about another athlete, leading diehard followers to question their “loyalty” and “purity.”

In October 2021, Li Wujun, a journalist for China Central Television known as the “encyclopedia of table tennis,” came under heavy fire online for a match report in which he pointed out that “Wang Chuqin had lost 19 consecutive points.” National team coach Chen Qi was also criticized for saying that “winning all the time is actually not good for development” and suggesting that online attacks are unacceptable. His comments sparked a backlash, with some fans even calling for him to be sacked.

Veteran sports journalist Liu Yang says most athletes tend to get along in private, but the public perception is one of deep rivalry. “Seeing how (friendly) they are in real life and then seeing fans attack their teammates and peers online, you realize how stupid it all is.” He adds that, unlike stars in the entertainment industry, athletes are generally less adept at dealing with fervent fans, who often show up at the headquarters of China’s General Administration of Sport, training venues, and even private homes just for an opportunity to get a photo of their idol.

“The optimal distance between athletes and fans is the distance between the stands and the court. Let us see each other there,” says Liu. In reality, however, fan behavior can go well beyond simply following and filming athletes. In April last year, while preparing for a World Table Tennis (WTT) tournament in Xinxiang in the central Henan province, former men’s world No. 1 Fan Zhendong posted a statement on social media saying that a woman had tracked him for several days to determine which hotel he was staying at and had obtained a keycard from the front desk in order to break into his room.

Zhang Qi, a 50-year-old sports fan from the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, began following the career of Sun Yingsha after she helped China win gold in the women’s team event at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. “She plays with such calmness at such a young age, and her eyes were full of pride as she watched the national flag being raised,” she recalls. Zhang says the player, whom she refers to by the nickname “Shasha,” is “like a daughter” to her.

On social media, she changed her profile picture to a photo of Sun and began reposting videos of her matches and interviews. She’s also had several opportunities to see Sun in the flesh, such as in 2021 at the Nanhai National Table Tennis Training Base in the eastern Shandong province. “I saw her from afar. It was soul-stirring,” she says, adding that she even handed the player a banner during a commercial event she attended in 2022. “I said goodbye to Shasha, and she politely nodded back.”

In the three years she’s been supporting Sun, Zhang’s social media account has accumulated more than 20,000 followers. She also runs an online fan club with over 60 members, the youngest being a 20-year-old university student and the oldest a 70-year-old grandmother. On Sun’s 22nd birthday on Nov. 4, 2022, club members pooled their money to purchase 1,104 roses to hand to fans outside a venue hosting a table tennis championship in Huangshi in the central Hubei province.

Fans giving athletes birthday gifts is not uncommon, nor are congratulatory messages placed on billboards and other advertising spaces, or on the sides of buildings. These activities have also become a bone of contention among various factions. How much a group does for, or spends on, their idol reflects that person’s popularity; if there’s no major celebration on an athlete’s birthday, their fans are roundly mocked as subpar.

Table tennis player Zhang Jike’s 31st birthday in 2019 inspired arguably the biggest celebration seen so far. Fans organized a grand light show in his home city of Qingdao, eastern Shandong province, illuminating 53 buildings to create a message that stretched 5.2 kilometers. Meanwhile, 330 drones formed the words “Happy Birthday Zhang Jike” and “I love Zhang Jike” above the Qingdao Olympic Sailing Center.

Table tennis player Zhang Jike walks past his fans at an airport in Beijing, 2016. Zhong Shihai/VCG

Tao Li, a diehard fan of the camera-shy Wang Chuqin, saw her first live table tennis match in 2023 at the Asian Games in Hangzhou, capital of the eastern Zhejiang province. Due to Wang’s prominence, tickets were hot property. “For a match on the evening of Sept. 30, I bought a ticket with a face value of 800 yuan ($112) for 2,600 yuan from a scalper,” she recalls. “I took a six-hour high-speed train. Seeing him made it all worth it.” She says she likes Wang because of his “fierce eyes” during games.

During the Games, videos of Wang and Sun competing as a team were constantly trending online, while the players’ accounts on China’s Twitter-like platform Weibo each gained more than 1 million new followers. “Tickets to see their matches will definitely be harder to get in the future,” Tao jokes.

Typically, people who indulge in fan circle culture believe they are helping develop their idol’s career. Although they can’t contribute in an athletic sense, they aim to provide value by enhancing an athlete’s status through the entertainment industry, such as by voting for them in popularity contests, and buying the products they endorse.

Hua Yuanbao is a member of a player’s fan club that includes various sub-groups responsible for areas such as publicity, combating negativity, managing Weibo discussions, moderating comments, and recruitment. According to her, the requirements for membership are strict: “You must have followed our player for at least a year on social media and have posted content about him on your Weibo over a period of more than three months.”

Following a study on China’s fan circle phenomenon, Meng Wei, a researcher at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, found that the transgressive behavior displayed by some fans is merely a symptom of what is in fact a vast celebrity industry involving talent agencies, photographers, social platforms, professional fan club coordinators, and internet trolls.

So-called “full-time fans” often have close ties with celebrity management companies and will mobilize others to participate in polls and other activities that improve an athlete’s profile, she says. Consequently, a sophisticated industry chain has emerged, with companies like StarAid reportedly generating massive profits from manipulating online traffic to ensure an athlete is regularly trending on social media.

Pros and cons

When did people new to the sport of table tennis start flooding into the arenas and taking over the internet?

Liu Yang believes the wave began with the 2016 Rio Olympics, driven by the rise of short video platforms, which helped the “handsome and skilled” men’s table tennis team garner greater attention. Since then, fans have been greeting national squad players — Ma Long and Zhang Jike, in particular — at airports and worshiping them as celebrities. “It’s related to the development of the internet. In the past, players like Olympic champion Kong Linghui also had websites and fangirls, but people would at most write letters. The information flows were not as developed as they are now, and there were far fewer online arguments.”

Gu believes another wave of fan circle culture emanated from the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Before that, discussions on Weibo were still mostly about the matches, but since then it has all been fanquanrhetoric, she says. “I don’t even turn on the real-time comments function when watching games anymore. It’s too much.”

The divisions have also spilled into the real world, with some awkward moments witnessed inside the stadiums. Gu remembers a WTT match in Xinxiang when Sun beat fellow national team player Chen Meng. Outraged, Chen’s diehard fans threw down the banners they’d been waving throughout and immediately left the venue.

Liu also recalls a match Sun played at the Hangzhou Asian Games when, just as she was about to serve, a scream of “Let’s go, Sun Yingsha” came from the stands, forcing her to stop and readjust. “Serving requires a quiet environment because players judge the ball’s spin based on the sound,” Liu explains.

During the WTT Taiyuan tournament in November, Wang complained to the referee about frequent camera flashes in the stands and walked over multiple times to specifically ask a fan not to use their flash. “It can irritate the player’s eyes, affecting their judgment of the ball’s direction and angle, which is critical in a match,” adds Liu.

However, some fans would prefer to highlight the benefits brought by fan circle culture. “Tickets for matches in Xinxiang now sell for four-digit figures,” says super-fan Cao Yin. “The reason is none other than fan circles. The most expensive ticket for the WTT Singapore Grand Slam finals was sold for nearly 50,000 yuan. I think the Chinese Table Tennis Association and the WTT are happy with ‘fanquan-ization’ and the creation of stars and controversies. Gone are the days when they would struggle to sell out even 20-yuan tickets.”

Liu disagrees. He believes that the trend has not translated into a flourishing table tennis industry. At last year’s World University Games, Liu expected a great level of interest and prepared several articles, but they failed to gain traction because no star players were in action. “Table tennis may seem popular, but many people might only be interested in a certain player, not the matches themselves.”

Online attention is indeed a must-have for table tennis. In 2019, the concept of the “Three Innovations” was introduced to the Chinese national team, allowing athletes to handle their own daily expenses as well as independently decide on endorsements and commercial activities to increase their income. Because of this, at the end of every year, national team players appear at various events to fulfill sponsorship agreements.

For this revenue model to work, businesses need to recognize the influence of the athletes. Liu thinks this might be one reason fans believe that it’s important to hype up their idol.

“The industry seems to be flourishing, but actually, nothing substantial has really been done for Chinese table tennis,” he says. “WTT has profited from China’s popularity this year, but it’s an international organization. At the same time, China has not built its own league, nor a system for club teams, nor attracted more young people to play the sport.”

Sports agent Fu Nengliang believes the fan circle phenomenon in sports is inevitable and prefers to view it from a positive perspective. “Compared with the management of celebrities in the entertainment world, Chinese sports management still has a lot of room for improvement,” he says. “The emergence of fan circles will force sports management professionals to think more about these issues.”

In his view, it’s reasonable to expect athletes, as public figures, to give up some degree of privacy, “but not just for the sake of breaking out as celebrities and blindly pandering to the demands of the entertainment industry.” After all, he adds, an athlete’s most valuable asset is their sporting spirit.

(Gu Xin, Liu Yang, Zhang Qi, Tao Li, Hua Yuanbao, and Cao Yin are pseudonyms)

Original article published 16.08.2024 on the Sixth Tone website.

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