American Football: King of the Bay Area

Lin Shuyuan pulled the collar of his jacket up. It was only early October, but the fierce San Francisco wind was already making its power known. He had spent the entire morning cooped up in his office, rushing to finish an article for the *World Daily*, and had not only missed lunch, but the shock of the temperature change from indoors to out almost made him turn right back around.

But his gnawing hunger spurred him onward—he couldn’t face another cup of instant noodles. Gritting his teeth, he dashed out of the newsroom and jogged to the restaurant ahead, pushing the door open. His mind was already running through lunch options, but the scene that greeted him inside stopped him in his tracks.

His first instinct was to take a step back and look up at the sign outside to make sure he was in the right place. He then stepped back inside, gaping at the bustling scene before him. The sound of heated discussions reverberated through the cramped space, making it feel like a bar in the wee hours of the morning—prime time.

The problem was, this wasn’t a bar, but a Hong Kong-style café. It wasn’t the wee hours of the morning, but 2:08 in the afternoon. Furthermore, it was Monday, a workday.

Lin Shuyuan’s mouth fell open in astonishment. He dazedly walked to an empty table and sat down. The owner came over and greeted him like an old friend, ”What can I get you? The usual char siu rice? If you’re in the mood for something roasted, the goose is really good today. The fat is rendered just right, not too greasy at all.”

He was speaking Cantonese, with a slight accent. Around this part of Chinatown, you could get by just about anywhere with Cantonese; Mandarin worked too, of course. The café’s owner was a second-generation immigrant who still kept some of the customs of the first generation. For him, Cantonese felt more personal and familiar than English.

The café was only a block from the *World Daily* newsroom, less than a five-minute walk away. The paper’s reporters were regulars, and Lin Shuyuan, having worked there for over nine months, was very familiar with the spot.

The *World Daily* was a Chinese daily newspaper, with all its articles written in traditional characters. As a third-generation immigrant, Lin Shuyuan’s listening, reading, and writing skills in Chinese were decent, but he was much more comfortable speaking English. After all, he had grown up and been educated primarily in English.

Lin Shuyuan replied to the owner’s Cantonese in English. ”Alright, I’ll take your recommendation.” The exchange, one question and one answer in two different languages, felt perfectly natural. This was the difference between San Francisco and New York—while both cities were famous for being multicultural melting pots, they went about it in entirely different ways.

”It’s a Touchdown, I’m telling you, that’s definitely a Touchdown.”

”But he was already out of bounds. I thought it’s not a Touchdown if you’re out of bounds?”

”No, no, there are more rules for a Touchdown. That’s definitely a Touchdown!”

”No duh, the ref already made the call. I know it’s a Touchdown. What I mean is, why was *that* one a Touchdown?”

...

The chattering discussion came to an abrupt halt. Everyone looked at each other, completely silent. The way the large, huddled group suddenly went quiet had a certain dramatic, comedic effect.

This was the source of Lin Shuyuan’s astonishment. The restaurant had at least twenty people in it, all young faces that looked like college and high school students. They were clustered together, loudly debating and tripping over each other to voice their opinions, looking for all the world like a university study group tackling a project. What’s more, every single one of them was wearing a San Francisco 49ers home jersey. The resulting sea of scarlet was a powerful sight.

For a moment, Lin Shuyuan was transported back to yesterday’s home game. The impassioned excitement of it all was still thrumming in his chest.

”Them?” The café owner, noticing Lin Shuyuan’s gaze, volunteered enthusiastically. ”A bunch of fans. You know, right? A Chinese-American quarterback popped up here in San Francisco, and he’s been playing incredibly well. The whole United States is buzzing about him—even I know, and I never watch sports. It’s really something else.”

The owner said with a beaming smile, his eyes and forehead crinkling into deep lines. His eyes, narrowed to slits, shone with pride. ”Three weeks ago, I started holding special events on game days, inviting everyone to come watch the games together. We’ve got to support one of our own, right?”

”My son and daughter are in high school, and they say that young man is incredible. Even their classmates have started talking about him. Now the kids in our neighborhood are getting interested too. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m happy to have them come here to watch the games.” The owner’s expression was one of deep satisfaction. ”You know, it’s not always easy for those of Chinese Descent here.”

Lin Shuyuan followed the owner’s gaze to the group of young people of Chinese Descent gathered together, discussing football. It was a truly rare sight. In America’s number one sport, the presence of the Chinese community had always been minimal. Never mind playing—even the number of people who watched the games was incredibly small.

But now, change was finally beginning.

”I’m thinking of getting a huge flat-screen TV and mounting it on the wall. That way, everyone can get together here on game days to cheer for the kid,” the owner said, looking utterly content. ”I heard two other bars organized viewing parties last week, too. You hear about that?”

Lin Shuyuan nodded. ”Yes, I was actually there to cover it.” Although there weren’t many people there yet—only a dozen or so—a single spark can start a prairie fire. The audience was growing exponentially.

The owner nodded. ”Someone’s got to organize these things. The community needs to stick together.”

”Hey, right, I remember now. You’re the one who covers the sports column for the *World Daily*, aren’t you?” The owner suddenly remembered, clapping Lin Shuyuan warmly on the shoulder. Without waiting for a reply, he called out loudly, ”Hey everyone, come ask him! He’s an expert on this stuff!”

’Expert?’

Lin Shuyuan broke out in a cold sweat. He had only gotten his first real taste of football at this year’s Rookie Training Camp. Of course, several months had passed since then; he wasn’t a total novice anymore.

Facing the eager gazes of the young crowd, Lin Shuyuan began to explain. ”In football, if the ball or the ball carrier touches the pylons at any of the four corners of the End Zone, it’s also a Touchdown.”

”Whoa!” The crowd gasped in unison. The looks of dawning realization on their faces made Lin Shuyuan want to smile. Their eyes were filled with a budding hope—the hope of football spreading throughout the Chinese Community. ”Okay, so what about this play here...”

In an instant, everyone swarmed him, eagerly firing off questions, and the afternoon restaurant erupted with lively chatter.

Lunch should have taken fifteen minutes, but Lin Shuyuan ended up staying for a full forty-five. The moment he mentioned he had interviewed Lu Ke face-to-face, the entire restaurant erupted. The passionate questions were endless—

”Tell us, how did Lu Ke actually do it? He’s the first Chinese-American quarterback in the whole NFL, right?”

”Lu Ke became a starting quarterback on his own merit. Does that mean we could stand on an NFL field someday too?”

”What kind of training does it take to become a quarterback? I have no idea. What does it even mean to have ’a great feel for the pass’?”

”I saw online that Lu Ke isn’t even twenty-two yet, is that true? That makes him my age! Oh my God, look what he’s doing with his life, and look at me... I just want to die!”

”Wait, wait, you’ve talked to Lu Ke in person. What’s he really like?”

All at once, every eye in the room was fixed on him. Their gazes, full of earnest expectation, landed on Lin Shuyuan’s shoulders, heavy with the weight of their hopes. Just like when Yao Ming joined the NBA, Sun Jihai joined the European League, or Liu Xiang broke a world record, every breakthrough by an East Asian athlete inspired boundless confidence.

For many third-generation immigrants, their connection to their ancestral homeland had slowly faded. Their daily lives had long since blended into the melting pot of American society. But in certain arenas, like competitive sports, perceived differences in natural ability served as a stark reminder that some distinctions between people remained.

Now, Lu Ke had become the Alliance’s first starting Chinese-American quarterback. This undoubtedly gave countless people a surge of confidence, making them truly believe that if Lu Ke could do it, so could they. It was a kind of encouragement and inspiration that words could not describe; it could only be felt.

”I read in the *San Francisco Chronicle* that Lu Ke is just a bright, cheerful college student, that he doesn’t seem any different from us and has a really outgoing personality. Is that true?” the young man who had asked the last question added. Sensing Lin Shuyuan’s inquisitive gaze, he admitted candidly, ”I like the way Lu Ke plays. I mess around with football at school sometimes, but I’m not even in the same league as him.”

Change was seeping in, little by little.

Lin Shuyuan smiled. ”Yes, Lu Ke is a pretty special guy. Off the field, he loves to joke around and is really down-to-earth. If you happened to run into him on the street and said hello, he’d definitely give you a warm greeting back.”

”What else? What else?” Eager eyes urged Lin Shuyuan to keep sharing, making him chuckle. ”To be honest, I’ve only met Lu Ke twice. I’m hardly an expert.”

”Twice is enough!” the youths clamored. Their restless excitement was infectious, and soon Lin Shuyuan found himself sharing his experiences without reservation. The meal was filled with so much joy and cheer that by the time he left the restaurant, his spirits had lifted, and all the fatigue from the morning had vanished.