By Abigail Ronck
It’s Saturday afternoon just after 3 p.m. and it feels as if an entire community hangs on the silence. Alston Wang is one of the greatest pingpong competitors they’ve seen in Sunset Park in quite some time. And he’s only 11.
Back and forth the ball goes, until finally Wang sends it whizzing past 31-year-old Chen Fei, who likes to stomp and yelp every time he wins a point. He’s silent now—but the crowd erupts. The match is tied at one game apiece. Wang rests his paddle on the table, wipes the sweat from his face with a paper towel and gulps his Snapple.
This is the first annual pingpong tournament hosted at the Sunset Park Recreation Center on 43rd St. and Seventh Ave. While it’s sponsored by the Brooklyn Community Improvement Association, the 120 players in today’s tournament come from across all five boroughs. “The idea is not to find the best player. It’s to get the people together,” says Kenny Guan, the association’s director. “We’ve got a few ringers in here, though.”
One appears to be Wang, who entered in the youth single category for players 17 and under. After one round, however, he was moved into the men’s adult single competition. There, though not without close games and serious effort, he advanced three tiers. Still, he has just beaten a man more than twice his age, from a Sunset Park Chinese community where table tennis reigns supreme. Wang needs to win just two more rounds and he is today’s champion. His rating is 2,098, according to the system designated by the USA Table Tennis (usatt.org) association. Most professionals, he says, rate around 2,700. While this September 18 tournament won’t affect his rating, the next one he plays on October 10 is officially sanctioned.
Down two games to none in round four, Wang comes back to win three straight against his adult opponent. “I just didn’t lose confidence,” he says. Wang is wearing a green T-shirt and black mesh shorts that fall down to his knees. His sneakers are black and his white socks come up, awkwardly, just over his anklebones. Wang’s hair is slightly spiked, too short though to shift with his rapid movement when he plays. He has big lips and a slight smile, and he’s generous. He asks an interviewer, “Do you understand the game? It’s best out of five games, first to 11 points.”
Wang has been playing for only two and a half years. He says his mom read about pingpong lessons in a magazine and signed him up when he was 8. Since then, he has trained three times a week with a coach at the New York Table Tennis Federation, in Manhattan. During the summer, he plays every day.
“My dad was supposed to go to work today, but he took one day off to see me play,” says Wang. He is not quite sure what his dad does at work; he only knows that he works for the Department of Buildings.
You likely would not have found the Wangs here in this community center three years ago. That was before Karen Gripper, director of the Sunset Park Recreation Center, translated membership brochures into Chinese and Spanish and purchased some pingpong tables. “I got two tables, used tables, that fell apart,” she says. After some fundraising, the center was able to buy eight more tables. “The word has gotten out,” says Gripper. “Ten tables are set out, all day, every day.” The center’s community membership has grown from 900 to 2,000.
Today, 100 people watch the finals: Wang vs. Fei. Chen Fei is short and athletic—he hits the ball hard. He’s been playing pingpong since the age of 15. Given his attire, for Fei this appears to be a casual tournament. He’s wearing glasses and long navy pants.
After they’ve been tied at one all, Wang goes up nine to five in the third game. That is until he loses a string of points that relegates him to a tie with Fei at 10 all, or deuce. Players must win by two points. Fei is up 11 to 10, after an extended point, all thanks to a ball that hit the net and just barely found the corner of the table. The table may be small, but these two need more space than any competitors before them. Fei grunts each time he swings his paddle. Wang sends a shot by him, tying the score at 12 all. Fei then wins the next two points and is up two games to one.
Wang wins game four 11 to eight. He has tied the competition up, two all. Now it’s the final game and Fei races to a 6–4 lead. The crowd holds its collective breath, exhaling only when one of the players scores.
Fei extends his lead to 7–6, just before the sixth-grader ties it at seven all. Wang bats two past Fei to pull ahead 9–7. Then, 10–8. Wang is ahead and it’s match point. Two onlookers high-five. This tournament—this day—is better than anyone expected.
Fei scores, needing only one more point for deuce. Wang focuses in anticipation of his opponent’s serve. When it comes, he lifts the ball back gently, just clearing it over the net. When Fei returns it back Wang swings harder this time, picking up momentum. Back it comes yet again. Wang stomps and—bam. The ball sails right past Fei, who is there at the table in fine position but just cannot reach Wang’s rapid final shot. The crowd spills out of its tightly wound tension; onlookers erupt onto the gymnasium floor to swell over their new champion. Game over, 11 to nine.
“He’s improved a lot,” Fei says afterwards. “He’s improved too much.” As it turns out, Fei has worked with Wang several times, teaching him how to anticipate points and become better at the game. “He’s smarter than before,” he says. “Today I became afraid. I was supposed to win.”
Fei is headed out. He has a young child and works daily at a local restaurant—and as it is, he’s late to work. After the swarm dies, Alston Wang stays, stalking quietly around the corners of the center. He is signed up for the doubles tournament and is waiting to play.
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