Shanghai SIPG and Suzhou Dongwu were tied at 1 after normal time yesterday in their China FA Cup Round of 16 game. And then things got wild.
The two teams proceeded to take 34 penalty kicks. Shanghai SIPG — who pays Oscar nearly $500,000 to jog around the midfield, kicking balls at opponents — missed twice in a row in the 5th and 6th rounds, but Suzhou couldn’t capitalize. Shanghai nailed 11 straight penalties afterwards, finally winning on a save in the 17th round.
So on it went: the goalkeepers both smashed theirs in; after 11 each it went back to the original penalty takers for another round each; an SIPG coach was booked for lurking behind the goal, as was Wu Lei for trying to interfere with proceedings.
The referee even had to tell the Suzhou ballboys off for swirling their raincoats in an attempt to put off the SIPG penalty takers (no doubt they just wanted it to be over with; it was probably now past their bedtime).
And that’s why the above video is 38 minutes long. (Here’s a condensed version.)
It wasn’t the longest penalty shootout in history though. As That’s tells us:
Was it the longest penalty shootout in history? Alas no. According to Wikipedia, the current world record for the longest penalty shoot-out in a first class match is 48 penalties during the 2005 Namibian Cup when KK Palace beat Civics 17–16.
Shanghai SIPG plays Tianjin next in the quarterfinals.
Brazilian soccer star Oscar, who left Chelsea earlier this year to play for Shanghai SIPG in the Chinese Super League for more than half a million dollars per week, sparked a brawl on Sunday in a game against Guangzhou R&F when he wildly kicked the ball at two opposing players near the end of the first half.
Not content with earning 400k a week, ex-Chelsea man Oscar has resorted to pelting the ball at his opponents and starting 50-man brawls ??? pic.twitter.com/zdJhP139K4
Oscar will now not be eligible to play in the Chinese Super League until August 13 while also receiving an additional $5,000 fine from the governing body of Chinese football.
“Oscar’s immoral foul, which sparked a massive bust-up on the pitch, has had a huge negative impact on China’s professional football leagues,” read a statement of CFA.
“The CFA alway attaches great importance to the issue of discipline, taking great pains to root out the violent fouls and other unsportsmanlike behaviour.
“Hopefully disciplinary offences would be severely punished by all clubs and efforts shall be made to maintain the order of the games and protect the development of football.”
Alibaba has just wrapped up Gateway ’17 in Detroit, its inaugural business summit designed to link US businesses with Chinese consumers. The two-day conference saw CEO Jack Ma give a nearly hour-long speech in which he extolled globalization and small business, and added, “The Alibaba dream was [gotten] from the American dream.”
Of course, he’s now selling the Chinese dream — specifically, the collective desires of a Chinese middle class that now numbers 300 million, a figure expected to double in the next 10 to 15 years. That’s a lot of purchasing power.
“It’s been an opening for young entrepreneurs who have the ideas, have the wherewithal, have the product,” said Martha Stewart.
About 3,000 people, mostly comprising small business owners, entrepreneurs and farmers, attended the conference. Speakers included Detroit mayor Mike Duggan, TV anchor Charlie Rose (who hosted a fireside chat with Ma), and Quicken Loans chairman/Cleveland Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert. Things kicked off on Tuesday with drummers suspended from the rafters, which is… unique.
A lot has been made about this being the first step for Ma in fulfilling a promise to Donald Trump to create 1 million jobs in the US. You might remember this tweet from January:
Even though that goal is “astoundingly implausible,” according to Christopher Balding, as quoted in a Quartz article, it might be a classic example of aiming big and landing among stars. Alibaba is also reportedly considering setting up a distribution center in Detroit.
The above Quartz article lists some key obstacles for Americans selling in China, such as language barrier and filling a market need. You can bet IP protection is also a big question. How different companies, including Alibaba itself, will address these issues in the future remains to be seen.
The prevailing attitude from Gateway ’17, however, was optimism. It’s an opportunity, as Ma repeatedly said. (“Small businesses, you have nothing to lose. The only thing you have to lose is the opportunity.”) And as Forbes points out:
During the Alibaba Global Shopping Festival last year, sellers from China and around the world sold $18 billion dollars worth of goods in 24 hours, 27% of which was sold by foreign brands and retailers, and the number one country of origin for these sales was the United States.
Not everyone will make it, but they have a chance… and maybe that’s enough to bolster the morale of a city still on the long road of recovery. Yes, at times it can all seem a bit fuzzy, like a dream — unrealized, potentially unreachable. But at least it’s there.
The pop star Ablajan hates it when people refer to him as the “Uyghur Justin Bieber.” When I interviewed him in 2015 he said: “People just have a certain image of who I am, but actually I built my image out of my own style.” He said that it was just happenstance that he and Bieber share the same aesthetic: black leather jackets, chains, a perfectly quaffed high fade. Ablajan said, “Actually I cut my hair short like this before Bieber. When I saw him doing it, I was surprised. We all joked that he was copying me. Actually I haven’t seen any of his work for over two years.”
To Ablajan’s thinking, it was an older icon that drew him (and perhaps Bieber) to the style of glamorous pop that he tries to emulate in his work. That icon was Michael Jackson.
He still remembers the day in 1999 when he saw the video Thriller for the first time. It was on a big-screen TV in a restaurant in Turpan. He had no idea that the video was as old as he was: 17. To him it seemed completely fresh and immediate. It felt like something he had been waiting his whole life to see.
“I thought right away that ‘MJ’ was my soulmate,” he said. “I really identified with everything about him.”
That day he started to learn Michael Jackson’s choreographies. He began to volunteer to perform whenever he could so that he could show off his new dance moves. It is no accident that even today Ablajan refers to himself as “AJ.”
Ablajan is an interesting figure in the Uyghur pop scene. He talks in a soft voice. He gestures with his hands constantly. He walks with a practiced coolness. Everything about him breathes celebrity. He has his own studio. His own brand. His own entourage of cool urban kids. It really does feel as though he has spent decades studying and practicing Michael Jackson’s mannerisms.
As I walked down the streets of Ürümchi with him and his backup dancers, little kids and their parents broke into broad smiles. He played the role of the celebrity graciously. Kneeling down with small children to take selfies, he was the fun uncle they had always adored.
Ablajan said that when he first came to the city he was really “backward.” “In Uyghur we would say ‘mening sapayim bek nachar’ (my quality was very bad),” he said. “People would just ignore me in the city. It was like they didn’t see me. Now people are really nice to me. It is totally different. Now they all notice me. Some of them don’t like me. But they all see me. Now I have to consciously be very gracious toward them or else they will think I am ‘stuck up.’ People over the age of 15 don’t approach me, but the kids always mob me.”
Here, too, Ablajan’s appeal follows the trajectory of Michael Jackson’s turn toward children’s music. “I really don’t know why my music is so popular with kids,” he said. “Parents tell me all the time that the first word their kids say is ‘Ablajan.’”
Ablajan likes to perform for kids because of the spontaneous joy they bring to the music. He said he has always loved “those little people,” and that ever since his first album he has wanted to use their sense of imagination and energy in his music.
Of course, like the King of Pop, in more recent years Ablajan has also been accused of infantilizing his music, of being stuck in a perpetual childhood. He said: “Now some people are telling me that it is not natural for a man to sing children’s music.” He said that in more recent years adults have been accosting him, telling him he is too effeminate – that entertaining children should be the domain of women.
Some of them are even more confrontational, telling him that he is misleading their children. “They tell me I am teaching their children lies,” he said. And here is where the the Uyghurness of his context and his relationship with Michael Jackson’s music appear to confront an impasse. Ablajan is attempting to be a pop star in the midst of widespread Islamic religious revival among his target audience; he is singing songs about joy and secular education in the midst of the so-called People’s War on Terror. This call to good citizenship and belonging within the Chinese nation in the midst of widespread state violence and fear often sounds like collaboration to Uyghur listeners.
Indeed, following the release of his first Chinese language record in 2012, Ablajan, like many Uyghur pop performers, has found himself put in the service of anti-religious extremism concert tours. As Uyghur society turns toward forms of Islam that frowns on music, dance and interactions with the non-Muslim world, Abalajan’s music,to many Uyghur listeners, has started to sound like music of the state.
Yet, of course, Abalajan’s music is not this. Of course he has to consider the view of the state when he performs, particularly following the notoriety he received following his profile in Time magazine. But he is deeply concerned with bringing Uyghur cultural thought and practice to the world stage. He imagines that people outside Uyghur society see Uyghurs as traditional and backward.
“Actually, people are just like people everywhere else,” he said. “We are all contemporary people. So I wanted people in Eastern China to see that Xinjiang is not backward. We might not all be rich, but still we are developing.”
But even more than this, he wants Uyghur kids to realize their full potential as Uyghurs that are living now, in the present. He wants to inspire Uyghur children to reach for the stars. “I hope that people can understand the feeling I have in my heart,” he said. “Other people here might think I am crazy, but I really feel like this is my gift.”
Images from Ablajan’s official WeChat feed
Since the early 2000s, Ablajan has written more than 400 songs. Many of them are aimed at inspiring young Uyghurs to bring Uyghur values into the present. In many, he focuses on the games and songs Uyghur kids used to play in the countryside and reinterprets them or gives them new meaning in the urban context. One of his most recent singles called “Dear Teacher” (video above, with English subtitles) doubles down on this, by privileging Uyghur-language instruction (in the Uyghur version of the song) as the first and primary subject of Uyghur education.
As one Uyghur listener to the Uyghur-language version of the song told me, “I was struck by how he emphasized the importance of learning the Uyghur mother tongue, although he did not explicitly frame it that way. He presented it as a subject in school, but he devoted two stanzas to that, whereas other subjects received only one. It also stands in stark contrast to the way he talked about learning Chinese, which was simply mentioned as one of the other languages that students need to learn. Of course, we know that all other subjects are now taught in Chinese.”
By beginning the song with an emphasis on the “pearls” of Uyghur language literacy (45-second mark), Ablajan is taking a stand, standing up to the state’s push to transform Uyghur education into Chinese-only curriculum. Although subtle, for Uyghur listeners it stands out as a small sign of refusal.
If we read through the Chinese translation of the lyrics Ablajan has provided, the subtly of his messaging is made more explicit. While the Uyghur version of the first two stanzas emphasizes the importance of learning one’s mother tongue, the Chinese version of the lyrics highlights the characteristics of Chinese language and Han culture by emphasizing things like strokes, pronunciation, and the Great Wall.
Below is the English translation from the Uyghur of the first two stanzas. The parts in parentheses are translations of the equivalent Chinese lyrics.
The class is language and literature, (This class is important) Read the texts with passion. For each new word you encounter, (Take a good look at the strokes of a character and pay attention to pronunciation) I will provide the explanation. (I will explain them now)
Learn the rules of your language, (The text will bring us) Fluently read the books. (To the nation’s glorious journey) May your handwriting be very beautiful, (To the Great Wall that awes the world) May your words look like pearls. (And to the Four Great Inventions [compass, gunpowder, papermaking, printing])
Clearly Ablajan does not need to talk about the importance of correct pronunciation of the Uyghur language to Uyghur kids who speak Uyghur as their native language. Instead, in the Chinese lyrics, Ablajan is emphasizing the assimilationist policies that now dominate Uyghur education. In doing so, he is demonstrating a remarkable deftness in bilingualism. He is telling his potential Uyghur audience and potential state censors what they expect him to say. Thinking in terms of W.E.B. Du Bois, what we see here is the art of double consciousness – of being forced to perform multiple forms of self-expression for multiple audiences.
Yet, perhaps more significantly, Ablajan is also standing against the resurgence of religious education, or the refusal of Uyghur parents to send their children to Chinese-language medium schools. He does this by not mentioning Islam at all, even as it has come to dominate everyday life in Northwest China. The closest he comes to referencing Islamic values is when he admonishes Uyghur children to respect their elders – who he portrays as a white bearded (aq saqal) old man (2:20).
The most explicit reference in the song is still Michael Jackson (2:03). There, in an homage to Jackson’s dance style, he asks Uyghur children to dance with passion like the great pop icon. He is telling the current generation that the way to get through this period of Xinjiang’s history is to throw yourself at life. He is asking Uyghur children to hold onto their values, but to live for a future life in which Uyghurs are recognized on their own terms as self-determined members of the world.
This is how Ablajan sees himself. “I don’t see myself as an ethnic singer,” he said. “I am just a singer. Of course, I am proud of being a Uyghur. And I carry that in my heart all the time. But I don’t see myself as only restricted to ethnic music. I dream of sharing the stage with world-famous singers everywhere.”
Yet despite his disavowal of ethnicity as the primary guide in his music, it is nevertheless impossible not see that he is entangled in a complicated political moment. And it is hard to take him at his word when he says things like, “Actually I am just a singer, not a politician. I only know about music.”
“My concentration was broken by Donald Duck, who was blowing me a kiss from the back of a moving train car. A short university-aged girl wearing a Donald Duck shirt and hat chased after him with a camera, shouting the duck’s first name.”
Have you ever read David Foster Wallace’s A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again? If you haven’t, don’t worry, I’m about to complete the analogy. In the essay, Wallace outlines his voyage on a week-long luxury Caribbean cruise. He rails against the whole experience, completely nonplussed by the artificial dreamscape and his fellow passengers who seem to be genuinely enjoying it.
This piece is pretty much going to be that.
On June 16, I went to Shanghai Disneyland for its one-year anniversary celebration. The park had surpassed expectations, bringing in 11 million visitors in its first year, an occasion that called for a surprise “magical celebration moment,” according to a press release. I don’t know much about Disney’s parks, so I brought along a Disney park superfan – we’ll call him Stewart – to offer scale and perspective. We boarded Line 11 and got ready for the long haul.
Walking from the Disney Resort station to the park, Stewart began to appear uneasy.
“This is really different from all the other Disneys,” he said, foreshadowing a recurring theme.
There was something strange about the long walkway from the subway to the park, speckled with new arrivals. Disney-friendly sounds echoed from some unknown source into the open stretch of solid gray sky overhead. No clouds, just gray.
We walked straight past the pre-park hubbub (confused patrons, ticket scalpers, line cutters), entered through metal detectors and bag check (thorough, as expected – no chance to sneak booze past these guys) and into the park itself. The first thing I noticed was the world-building happening around us. Walking into the Disney Square was like crossing the threshold into an alternate reality. On the outside, you have the sound of human squawking through megaphones; on the inside, it’s all replaced by the quirky, upbeat tunes you might find Mickey Mouse whistling on a stroll through the park. “This is pretty dope,” I said to Stewart.
“It’s really different from all the other Disneys,” he replied.
Stewart was a veteran, and so we did the correct thing, which was to head directly from the entrance gates to the badass Tron ride and get ourselves a FastPass. We grabbed ours at around 11:00 am, reserving two spots for the ride at 4:00-5:00 pm. If we’d been much later, we probably wouldn’t have been able to ride Tron, as the normal wait time without FastPasses is three hours. Can you imagine gearing up for an intensive nine-hour day at Disneyland, and then spending one third of that day in line for a 90-second ride? Neither can we. And thus, another theme of the day reared its head – the sheer, insurmountable, immovable number of people here. I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but there are a lot of people in China. As it turns out, there are a lot of people at Shanghai Disneyland, too. To move anywhere means to traverse a sea of people – this goes for lines, for attractions, for food, as well as just going from one part of the massive park to another.
Disney fans gather together to hinder your movement through the park (source: The Happiest Blog on Earth)
After reserving our spot, we left the area to find a way to kill time. At the shortest line we could find, we waited, unmoving, for 25 minutes before we decided to cut our losses and eat. Following the map to a Pirates of the Caribbean-themed cafeteria, we were presented with a selection of rubbery-looking meat dishes, each for around 100 RMB (roughly $15). $15 actually isn’t crazy, but it’s enough for four days’ worth of Chinese food, so we weren’t thrilled. We looked around at the more savvy Chinese park-goers, reaching into bags and pulling out foods they’d brought from home, biting into sweet rice crackers and looking at us with glee. We stormed away, and set out on a beeline for the restaurants on the park’s outer periphery. Stewart pointed out that this was really different from all the other Disneys.
His chief criticism was the level of magic in the park, which he considered low. He would point at things – a sign, a sidewalk, a food stand – and say that it wasn’t the way Disney was supposed to be. Disney, he told me, was supposed to be a fantasy escape completely removed from the real world, meticulously crafted down to the smallest detail to imbue a sense of wonder. Stewart felt that Shanghai Disneyland did not achieve that, and looking around me at the generic theme park topography, swarms of people going nowhere and dearth of rideable rides, I was inclined to agree. Disney is an immense, multibillion dollar enterprise, but I was still surprised to find myself calling the park commercial. The experience was not unlike a trip to the DMV, moving from line to line through a bland landscape, trying to check off the all the boxes. My concentration was broken by Donald Duck, who was blowing me a kiss from the back of a moving train car. A short university-aged girl wearing a Donald Duck shirt and hat chased after him with a camera, shouting the duck’s first name.
On the way to food, I suddenly became aware there had been zero indicators that it was the park’s one-year anniversary celebration. The first sign that the celebration was, in fact, happening, came when we asked the restaurant attendants about the 88 RMB Disney Meal Plan, which we were told was not available because of the one-year anniversary celebration.
Stopping to tinker with the Disney app, we were ambushed by a smiling attendant named Joshua in a whimsical straw hat. Can I help you with anything? he asked us from behind his toothy grin, which seemed to be permanently etched into his face. He showed us how to use the app to check for other FastPasses (all gone), and we thanked him. Goodbye, thank you! Have a magical day! he waved to us as we walked away. He paused, searching for the words, and then added Happy one-year anniversary! before disappearing back into the inner workings of Disneyland. Indicator number two.
At this point, we were already exhausted. We’d been in the park for several hours, and had not accomplished much. It was 3:32 and we’d only ridden one ride (Pirates of the Caribbean: Battle for the Sunken Treasure is admittedly awesome), done zero activities, and eaten nothing. We finally got to the exit gates, and I tapped the security lady on the shoulder.
Hi, is it all right for us to leave and come back in? I asked her.
Yes, go out and come in is ok. Just bring ticket, she said.
Great, thanks.
This is really different from the other Disneys, offered Stewart.
Outside the park, we ate at Wolfgang Puck. We still spent 100 RMB on food, but at least it wasn’t a rubber pork chop. Then we went to the Chinese restaurant next door and ordered four large bottles of beer, which we drank without much conversation. I felt as though I’d endured three days in the span of this afternoon. Stewart looked kind of broken, the starlight of Disney having vanished from his eyes. We glanced at our phones and saw our turn to ride Tron had come. We took deep breaths and waded back into the park.
I’ll condense the next couple hours into a few sentences. We rode Tron, and it was badass.
Could’ve been longer. We tried to wait in line for a few other rides, but two out of three times the dramatic mechanical doors opened to reveal a modest theater room with an interactive video presentation, at which point we would walk away. We took pictures with an impressive Mandarin-speaking Darth Vader and Kylo Ren. We floated ambiently for as long as we could, then gave up and went to go find seats for the magical surprise.
One and a half hours before the surprise, the lawn in front of the castle was already completely spilling over with people. Attendants blew whistles and flapped their arms helplessly to signal that there was no more room. Cramming ourselves into a concrete crevice, we awaited the spectacle.
Our outstanding view from the crevice
Finally, after the sun had set, music began to play and Disney CEO Bob Iger stepped out onto the stage to thunderous applause. Through an interpreter, and a sound system that could only have been designed in the early 1980s, he prepared to address the crowd, and kick off a magical celebration the likes of which they’d never seen. The following is a paraphrased account of his speech:
“Dear Shanghai. I look out on this crowd, and see so many magical faces. They come here to share magic, and to create moments together that will last a lifetime. That’s what Disney is all about. And one year ago, Disney brought the magic of moments to Shanghai, sharing incredible, unforgettable experiences with anyone who still believes in magic. These moments are unforgettable, and it makes me so happy to see all of you here today, sharing moments that you’ll never forget. Enjoy the magic.”
And with that, fireworks launched into the sky, and continued for a succinct minute and forty-five seconds. People clapped at the finale, staring up into a forest of elevated selfie sticks. Floating lanterns attached to drones were lifted into the air to represent good fortune. A Disney employee came out and spoke into the microphone.
“Thank you everybody! There will be a ten-minute break before we begin our Nighttime Spectacular show.”
And that was the third and final indicator of the park’s one-year anniversary. Stewart told me the Nighttime Spectacular show was the same show they did every day at Disneyland. A passing employee confirmed that it was the normal show, with no one-year twists or surprise guests. I felt like I’d just taken part in history’s least magical moment.
But all around me, others felt differently. There really were some magical faces. Tiny kids with their parents, youngsters on dates holding hands, smiling exhausted grandmas. Everybody was truly happy, and come to think of it, had been since the start of the day. The overall feeling from the park’s guests was one of content relaxation. They’d been through the same park experience we had, but here they were positively beaming with happiness. I frowned at the sight of it.
Is the park a success? By many measures, yes. As we made our way to the exit, the captivated crowd of happy families continued to ooh and ahh at the projection display, worn out from a special day at Disneyland with the people they love. Eleven million visitors made the pilgrimage in the park’s first year, and Shanghai Disneyland can only get bigger from here.
I wish nothing but continued growth and success for Shanghai Disneyland. It will just have to grow and succeed without me. On the train home, I felt drained. But Bob Iger had been right about one thing: it wouldn’t be easy for me to forget those moments. I handed a half-empty bottle of water to a barely-conscious Stewart. He drank the rest and slumped down into his seat, closing his eyes.
“That was really different from all the other Disneys,” he mumbled, before drifting into the happiest sleep on earth.
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