Heartbeat from the end of the bench

Daniel Chen recalls a Sunday when he was in high school. He was about to return to his boarding school when a friend asked if he wanted to play basketball. He heard that a really good coach would be there. 

Chen wanted to go, so he called his mother for permission. 

“You will never play basketball for a living anyway,” Chen’s mother told him. 

Chen, believing his mother was right, didn’t go that night. When another opportunity to play was given, he didn’t hesitate this time.

Last school year, he saw information on Instagram about a tryout for the Asian basketball team at Syracuse. 

Joining such a team, he could practice with other Chinese students and travel to other universities to compete with other Asian basketball teams. This opportunity enlightened Chen, leading him towards tryouts for the team. 

After tryouts, he was not chosen to make the team roster. 

At the time, the Asian basketball team was simply too good to spare a spot for him. So many players had varsity or even academy team experience. They practiced three times every week and held video sessions quite often. The team trampled over Rochester, Penn State, and Boston College in tournaments within the region. 

Chen, an 18-year-old boy from Guizhou, China, was the best player in his high school class, but on this team, other players can dribble past him with one quick crossover.

Photo by Maria Kaffes

Chen gets time on the court during a local league game.

It was a team that won, that prioritizes solidarity, tenacity, and continuity, and a team that is unrecognized by the university but still takes pride in what they do. 

The team’s former captain told Chen after the tryout that he could come to the practice sessions and sometimes train with the team. Chen took the chance and became an unofficial member of an unofficial club team. 

Most of the time, all Chen could do was come in at 8 p.m. and watch the team scrimmage. For three hours, Chen kept score, while the others were sweating bullets on the court.  

Shuo Zhang, a graduate student on the team, tried to comfort his younger cohort with his own experience. He told Chen that he was also the “scoreboard person” at the beginning of his tenure on the college varsity team during his undergraduate years. He rarely got any minutes before his junior year. 

Chen was luckier because he didn’t have to wait till his third year. He became an official member of the team and started to get playing time during the second semester after several players graduated and left the team. 

But the transition was hard. The Asian basketball team just seemed too talented as a club team. Players from Shandong, Fujian, Hong Kong, and all other places in China came as stars in their hometowns. 

When Chen first stepped on the court with the team, he felt depressed and anxious when others pointed out his mistakes. He was afraid to shoot and sometimes afraid of making decisions. When Chen did make mistakes, he would think about them for a long time.

“I never felt that anyone on the team has looked down upon me,” Chen said. “One thing I feel is enjoyable about being on the team is that people are willing to help you and point out your problems. That is something you couldn’t experience being a star player before.” 

Here he has Zhang. Having varsity experience, Zhang plays for and coaches the Asian basketball team. He stopped practice and showed Chen how far his arm should stretch out and how hard he should press the ball carrier toward the sideline. 

Here he has Leon Chen, his gym pal and also a star on the team. Leon Chen would practice with him, go to workouts with him, and tell him how to think on the court. Leon Chen is patient enough to teach him over and over again how to use his strength, how to box out, and how to cut from the baseline.

Here he also has Tiger Zeng, who pushes him a little harder. 

In the mornings, with no classes, Zeng would text Chen to play basketball before Chen’s class at 2 p.m. They would get an hour-long extra practice session. 

Zeng, now the captain of the Asian basketball team, is still trying to figure out how to lead and make every player better.

Photo by Jon Yi

Daniel Chen (third from left) poses with the rest of Syracuse’s Asian basketball team after a game at Penn St.

He had a similar background story growing up. Zeng was once serious about playing soccer and made it to the academy team of the city of Shenzhen. He was ready to take a step further when his father told him to stop. 

“You can play soccer as a hobby, but that’s it,” Zeng’s father told him, just like Chen’s mother discouraged him from pursuing basketball. 

So Zeng turned to basketball and brought his tenacity with him. 

He said many difficulties have troubled him this year. He continues to strive for the university’s recognition. Without qualifying as an official club, the team can’t book a court for practice, host larger tournaments, or invite other Asian basketball teams from other colleges. 

That also means no funding from Syracuse University, so the team pays for its jerseys and more than $1,000 in registration fees for all tournaments.  

Within the team itself, the decrease in the number of Chinese students admitted to the university this year, and the graduation of old members left the Asian basketball team with fewer players.  

“If it were one year or two years ago, you could see 15 to 20 people on the team,” Zhang said. “But this year we only have 10 active players.” 

But that doesn’t trouble him. 

“When playing games that matter, we would rather trust our starting five more and have only seven or eight players in the rotation,” Zeng said. “Then bringing in 15 people on the team and having eight of them playing so less that later I’ll have to go comfort them.” 

Zeng said that even if there are only two players at the tryout, he would rather take none if neither qualifies. 

Instead of more bodies, what Zeng needs more than anything is a team committed to showing up for practice and games. 

And Chen always shows up. 

“I was hardly ever late, and I never ran from practice,” Chen said. “Even though I might not be as good as those who ran from practice.” 

Zeng appreciated Chen’s effort off the court, he said. When the best five players on the team compete on the court, Zeng knows Chen is doing his part, too. He pays attention to the clock, keeps track of fouls, and communicates with referees. 

The team works as one and everyone does what they should do – it is the solidarity Zeng has always been hoping for. 

Chen remembered there was a time when they played a local league game. Only six players went to the game, and Chen was the only substitute they had. 

He didn’t play a single minute. 

Frustration engulfed Chen. He had to talk to Zeng to figure things out. That was the only time he was upset about sitting on the bench. 

After that night, he moved on. He continued to be the first one to hustle back for defense and started to make moves in games that he practiced for so long during practice. 

Outside of playing basketball, Chen has few hobbies. 

Before college, Chen worked out once every week or every two weeks. Now he works out five times every week. 

Over the summer, Chen didn’t travel to places or go to summer school for more credits. He got up at 9 a.m. every morning and then drove for 20 minutes to practice basketball. He paid for one-on-one training sessions with a coach. At noon, he went to work out and then attended his internship in the afternoon. 

Chen thought about the night he argued with his mother. 

He told himself that to live, to have a purpose, and a goal to reach for every day after getting up.  

Basketball is his purpose, he said, and that makes him feel meaningful. 

“I think all the sweat and applause are for your happiness,” Chen said. “If I feel regret at all, I only regret that I didn’t put in even more effort and do even better. I will never regret that I wasted my time.” 

And on this Asian basketball team at Syracuse University, Chen belongs.