No hurdle is too great
Defending Olympic champion Liu Xiang hasn't let fame or pressure get in his way
BEIJING - Liu Xiang is a national obsession in China. The reigning Olympic champion in the 110-meter hurdles appears around every corner in the capital city on all forms of advertising for the Games. The most common image captures Liu mid-hurdle in a freeze frame of perfect technique and competitive focus. Beneath rock-star fashionable black hair, his eyes are narrowed on the finish line.
From the moment Liu claimed China's first track and field gold medal at the 2004 Athens Olympics, the country and its transcendent sports star have pointed toward the Beijing Olympics. The dreams of modern China, as well as its contradictions and mystery in the eyes of the West, are symbolized by Liu.
His efficiency over hurdles and self-effacing manner are products of the traditional Chinese emphasis on technique and humility, though Liu is a thoroughly modern athlete with a full complement of high-profile commercial endorsements and legs insured for $13.3 million. His accomplishments on the track are legend, attracting mobs of fans, yet outside his home country, precious little is known about Liu. And what is revealed often must pass through a translator, with Chinese sports authorities never far away.
"I see myself as an average person and I just try to do my best and do my job," said Liu in Mandarin.
When mentioned that he is far from average, with an entire nation expecting a second gold medal in the 110-meter hurdles final Aug. 21, Liu added: "But I have to think that. I have to be calm to be able to face the pressure. I don't see myself as a superstar. That's how I deal with it. I don't see the Olympic race as defending my championship. I'm just going to enjoy the race and do my best. There's no specific psychological training in my regular training routine. I'm learning from everyday life. I feel like I'm my best therapist."
China and Liu share a similar recent history. The country and the 25-year-old hurdler have adjusted to their new positions of international power with surprising confidence and ease, though the last couple of months have been far from trouble-free. For China, controversy over Tibet, concern over pollution, and protests during the Olympic torch relay drew unwanted attention. For Liu, the loss of his world record in June, a right hamstring injury, and a false-start disqualification from the Prefontaine Classic add unwanted uncertainty to his Olympic campaign.
The Games give China and Liu a chance to show a worldwide audience why they belong among the best. For China, the Beijing Olympics signal its arrival as a modern world power. For Liu, they offer an opportunity to reclaim his dominance and, again, rewrite Chinese sports history. The Chinese hope the Summer Games will be a triumphant crowning moment for the country and the hurdler.
"If Liu wins the hurdles, it wouldn't matter if anyone else did anything," said Liu's Boston-based agent, Mark Wetmore. "I'm sure the Chinese would trade everything else for that gold medal.
"It's not a pure technical event. It's a speed event. It's an event that's been dominated by countries like the United States. That's where the similarities between Yao Ming come in. You're talking about a sport that's dominated by Americans and westerners. For Liu to come in and be equally dominant in a very short period of time really was a source of pride, beating them at their own game. That's why he's such a rock star in China."
No technical difficulties
As competitors on both sides knocked hurdles to the track, Liu maintained his perfect form throughout the final at the Athens Olympics. With a textbook combination of grace and power, his left lead leg snapped down and his right trail leg followed in predictable rhythm, setting up a seamless transition to his full three steps between hurdles. His shoulders stayed square, his body balanced.
Midway through the race, Liu started to separate himself from the field, opening a sizable gap by the 10th and final hurdle. He crossed the finish line in 12.91 seconds, equaling the world record set by Great Britain's Colin Jackson in 1993. To celebrate the historic victory, Liu draped a Chinese flag around his shoulders and raised his right index finger. From that moment forward, Liu became one of the most dominant hurdlers of all time, setting a world record (12.88) in 2006 and winning the 2007 World Championship.
Asked what changed after Athens, Liu said, "First, I get a lot of attention. Second, I make a lot more money than I did four years ago."
Liu smiled, then quickly mentioned how more money was not important, but provided a better life in China. The capitalist turn of the conversation came as a surprise. But it is another example of how Liu represents a departure from China's hard-line Communist past and embodies its grand aspirations for today and tomorrow.
As an athlete whose hurdling career began 10 years ago at his Shanghai sports school, Liu benefited from the best of both the traditional and modern Chinese sports systems and progressed quickly. He won gold at the 2001 World University Games in Beijing in 13.33, then set a still-standing World Junior record of 13.12 10 months later at a Grand Prix meet in Lausanne, Switzerland. Entering the Athens Olympics, the young upstart was considered a strong medal contender.
The traditional system brought nationally respected track coach Sun Haiping to Liu's school for testing and resulted in the teenager switching from high jump to hurdles. With its heavy emphasis on technique and discipline, the traditional system also made Liu perhaps the best technician competing in hurdles today. The new, more open system allowed Liu to gain experience and confidence against top competition at premier international track meets. Greater exposure led to endorsements and the life Liu now leads, which occasionally includes public singing performances.
"His coach did very good training for him, especially on the technical aspect," said Chinese national track team coach Feng Shuyong. "We all see that his body shape is not so ideal. His legs are not very long. His speed is not so good when compared with [two-time US Olympic silver medalist Terrence] Trammell or some other hurdlers. But his technique is one of the best in hurdling. Also, his rhythm is really, really good, especially in the last part of the race."
Added Sun, as translated by Feng: "The body shape of the Asian people is not as good as the Europeans or the Americans. So, we have to do a very balanced training to make up for this problem. He has no real strong area and no real weak area. We make the body very balanced."
Uninterested in restating the obvious about his far-from-ideal hurdling physique, the 6-foot-2 inch, 181-pound Liu offered a less analytic assessment of his abilities.
"I still don't know what makes me so fast and successful," said Liu. "I know when I see a hurdle in front of me, I just go tackle it."
Whether technique or determination or a combination propels Liu over hurdles, his strengths are most apparent after the 50-meter mark. As competitors appear to slow, Liu seems to accelerate after the fifth hurdle. In reality, Liu maintains his speed from start to finish better than most.
Dayron Robles broke Liu's world record earlier this season, lowering the mark by one-100th of a second. Entering the Games, the tall, bespectacled Cuban is a co-favorite for gold with Liu.
"The fact that Robles broke his world record helps [Liu] in a sense because it makes people realize the gold medal's no layup," said Wetmore. "Liu Xiang was coming into this Olympic Games as Olympic champion, world champion, world record-holder, and world indoor champion. When you come in like that, you don't have the luxury of losing. Now, people in China realize Robles is a monster. He's exactly what Liu Xiang was in 2004, this young juggernaut who runs right past you. If Liu Xiang is 100 percent, it's going to be one of the great races in Olympic history. It could take a world record to win the gold medal."
Risky approach
With a chance to watch Liu race live, the crowd at the 2008 Reebok Grand Prix in New York City eagerly awaited the competition. In his dual role as meet organizer and agent, Wetmore was pacing the infield 45 minutes before the start of the race when a call came from Feng. Liu had a tight right hamstring, but Feng still wanted him to run. "Are you kidding me?" shouted Wetmore into the phone. This was not the time or place to jeopardize a gold medal by turning a tight hamstring into something much worse on a rain-slicked track.
Liu, Sun, and Feng were embarrassed about traveling all the way from China and not racing as scheduled. After all, Liu's appearance at the Reebok Grand Prix was promoted with a rare press conference at the Empire State building and a symbolic photo opportunity on the observation deck with the Statue of Liberty in the background.
Less than 10 days later, Liu would settle into the starting blocks at the Prefontaine Classic in Eugene, Ore., but was automatically disqualified after a false start. It was a strange turn of events, especially since Sun said the hurdler had been working on his start. Liu returned to China without racing in the US, raising eyebrows in international track circles and concern in China.
Liu last raced in a May 24 test event at the National "Bird's Nest" Stadium in Beijing. He finished in a relatively unimpressive 13.18. While Liu insisted "systematic training" is most important in advance of the Olympics, it is a risky strategy. Hurdlers typically need races to sharpen their form and speed. But listening to Liu discuss his Olympic competition, his toughest races may come in practice.
"I don't see the other hurdlers as my competitors," said Liu. "They're my friends and I respect them. The only competition in my mind is myself. I'm just going to face everything that's happening every day very calmly."
It is good advice for the rest of the country. As the Games begin with tonight's opening ceremonies, Liu and China do not know what to expect despite years of meticulous planning. With the world watching, they hope to leave a strong, lasting impression.
Shira Springer can be reached at springer@globe.com.
