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China has opened up a crack; a dual heritage fighter kicks through to open it some more. Ray Zhang knows better than most that fighting skill and hard work will only carry you so far; he knows you must be lucky, too. Hong Chen, the winner of the Jade Dragon Trophy, is lucky. He is what the Kung Fu establishment wants: formidably skilled, charismatic, and mischievous enough to maintain his lead over any half-breed Chinese Kung Fu pretender like Ray, who may as well jack in the fighting and stick in at school even though Ray has just split Hong Chen's head open in front of a crowd. The Confucian...
China has opened up a crack; a dual heritage fighter kicks through to open it some more. Ray Zhang knows better than most that fighting skill and hard work will only carry you so far; he knows you must be lucky, too. Hong Chen, the winner of the Jade Dragon Trophy, is lucky. He is what the Kung Fu establishment wants: formidably skilled, charismatic, and mischievous enough to maintain his lead over any half-breed Chinese Kung Fu pretender like Ray, who may as well jack in the fighting and stick in at school even though Ray has just split Hong Chen's head open in front of a crowd. The Confucian conceit of the established powers, which will by all means hold on to their purity, makes it clear that Ray is not their choice of representative. More trouble and some help are on the way. China's economic miracle has brought in a team of travelling angels of the mixed martial arts world, and Ray has just stolen the heavyweight's glove. That will bring fresh turmoil to this war-torn, typhoon-battered island, strewn with economic debris despite its captivating beauty and character. It would help if you took your chance when you do finally hit some luck. You might not get a criminal record for nicking a second-hand glove, but a second chance in people's eyes is another matter entirely. The Typhoon gave Ray that chance, D.C., AKA Mr. 7, too. They believed in him because they knew about labelling. They know that people who are different get stuck quickly. People call The Typhoon crazy, or Dyke, and a lot worse besides and see D.C. the bad-boy, a slum-dog slugger like Sonny Liston. But they had their struggles, then took their chances, and then gave back with purpose when they could. They knew my Son could 'kick-ass' too if he was given a fair shot. Their fight game appears to be all pageantry, paparazzi, and punch, while ours seems pure spirituality and above suspicion. Some think all fighters do is just stand there and fill their nuts. But everything has a subsurface; we're all in a deeper struggle. The question is, can your credibility survive when your subsurface is exposed?
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