china – 360TT Blog

Double Happiness: the story of DHS, the brand intertwined with Chinese table tennis

Thu, 22 Oct 2026 14:12:00 -0300

If you play table tennis, you have seen those three letters a thousand times: on your training ball, on your forehand rubber, on the colorful table in the World Championships broadcast. Few people know that DHS stands for Double Happiness, and that the name was born from two celebrations in 1959, one of them a world title. By the way, many players call a ball that clips the net and then the edge a double happiness: double luck for the hitter, none for the receiver.

Telling the story of DHS means telling the story of Chinese table tennis. Since the first title, the two have walked together, in a cycle that has repeated itself for more than 60 years: the team tests, the factory adjusts. When the rules change, both adapt together, and they almost always come out ahead.

This post is based on the DHS Service Guide, the brand’s technical handbook (4th edition, 2022, in Chinese), which DHS made available to 360TT as its official distributor in Brazil. It includes a timeline of the sport and of the factory. Since it is the brand’s own version of its history, I checked what I could against other sources and I point out when a figure comes only from DHS.

TL;DR: the ball reached China before the national team did: the sport landed in Shanghai in 1904 and the first Chinese ball came out in 1927 (before the national team, the ball). In 1959, China’s first world title gave the brand its name, and it debuted at the 1961 World Championships in Beijing, the same event where a 15-year-old Brazilian knocked out the champion. Then came ping-pong diplomacy, the 40 mm ball and the Hurricane (the world against China), the Ma Long era and Paris 2024. At the end, what this story teaches players.

The story in one picture: from the English dinner table to the tables of Paris (text in Portuguese). Infographic: 360TT

Before the national team, the ball

Table tennis was born in England at the end of the 19th century as a dinner-table game: rackets made of stretched skin, rubber or cork balls wrapped in wool so as not to damage the furniture, a net strung between two chairs. Around 1890, the Englishman James Gibb adapted a hollow celluloid toy ball, and the game got the ball we know. From there the sport went to Japan, where it became takkyu.

In 1904, Wang Daowu, the owner of a stationery shop in Shanghai, brought ten complete sets back from Japan and gave the sport the name that stuck: pingpang, after the sound of the ball. Curiously, in the West that name had an owner: the English company Jaques registered “Ping-Pong” as a trademark in 1901, and in the United States the rights went to Parker Brothers (today they belong to Escalade). That is why the federations adopted the name table tennis. In China, pingpang simply became the name of the sport. In 1926 the ITTF was founded and held the first World Championships in London that December. And Shanghai started manufacturing: the first ball made in China came out in 1927; in 1928 and 1929 the first racket workshops appeared (one of them made 2,000 to 3,000 a year); in 1937, the Lianhuan ball (“linked rings”) was the first Chinese ball good enough for competition. In English, DHS itself calls that ball Double Circle, and the two interlocked rings survive to this day as the mark of DHS’s training ball line, such as the Double Circle D40+. In 1946 the Hualian ball factory was founded.

Old Double Circle balls, made in Shanghai: the two rings of the 1937 Lianhuan still on the stamp. Photo: reproduction

An old Chinese racket, from the days of the first Shanghai workshops. Image: DHS Handbook

Meanwhile, world table tennis already had an owner. The handbook tells this story in five eras, and in each one the game and the equipment change together. From 1926 to 1951, Europe ruled: 109 of the 117 world titles, with the shakehand grip, defensive play and pips rubber with no sponge, which gave little speed and very little spin; the idea was to miss less than the opponent. From 1952 to 1959, Japan changed the game twice: it swapped the shakehand grip for the penhold, to attack from a distance with the forehand, and brought the novelty that changed everything, the sponge, which gave rise to sandwich rubber (rubber with sponge), still used today, and multiplied speed and spin.

China only joined the ITTF in March 1953, and that same year it played its first World Championships, in Bucharest: it beat Austria and Sweden and lost to England and Hungary. Between 1956 and 1958, Hualian and three other Shanghai factories became joint ventures with the state and formed the basis of what would become DHS. In 1957, Hualian made the first Chinese ball with a sealed seam. All that was missing was the name.

Packing balls in a Shanghai factory, in DHS's early years. Image: DHS Handbook

1959: two joys and a name

In 1959, in Dortmund, Germany, Rong Guotuan won the men’s singles at the 25th World Championships and became China’s first world champion in any sport. That same year, the People’s Republic turned ten. Two joys. According to DHS and the Chinese press, Premier Zhou Enlai named the ball made in Shanghai Hong Shuang Xi, “red double happiness”, the same name as the 囍 symbol the Chinese use at weddings. In English, Double Happiness. As an acronym, DHS.

The ball with the “double happiness” stamp. Image: DHS Handbook

The name came with a deadline. China was going to host the 1961 World Championships and wanted to play with its own equipment, so the country set up a joint technical effort with factories and research institutes. In September 1959, the new ball and table were tested by national team players, among them Xu Yinsheng, and approved. The same effort produced the first Chinese racket with inverted rubber and sponge. In 1960, the ball was approved by the ITTF, the first Chinese sports product to get that approval. It was the first turn of the cycle: the team tested, the factory adjusted.

An old table from the DHS collection. Image: DHS Handbook

1961: Beijing, the home debut

At the 26th World Championships, in Beijing, the ball, the table and the scoreboard were DHS: it was the first time sports equipment made in China appeared at a world championship. And at home, China won the men’s team event, the men’s singles and the women’s singles. For the handbook, this is when the center of table tennis moves from Japan to China, with fast close-to-the-table attack, and the game becomes China’s “national sport”.

The 26th World Championships, Beijing, 1961: the debut of DHS equipment. Image: DHS Handbook

🇧🇷 Biriba, 15, against the world champion

At that same World Championships, in April 1961, a boy from São Paulo wrote his name into history. Ubiraci Rodrigues da Costa, known as Biriba, aged 15, beat Rong Guotuan, the 1959 champion whose title had given DHS its name. It was in the third round of the men’s singles, in front of some 15,000 Chinese fans, and he reached the last 16. He received a telegram from Brazilian President Jânio Quadros, and his run was only matched by Claudio Kano in 1987 and surpassed by Hugo Calderano in 2021.

It was no bolt from the blue. At 11, Biriba was already South American champion among adults; at 13, he beat two Japanese world champions, Ichiro Ogimura and Toshiaki Tanaka, in exhibition matches at the Ibirapuera arena in São Paulo, the school that dominated the sport at the time. On November 18, 1958, the sports newspaper A Gazeta Esportiva put him on its front page alongside Pelé and tennis player Maria Esther Bueno: “the golden triangle of Brazilian sport”.

Biriba, aged 13, with Pelé and Maria Esther Bueno at the A Gazeta Esportiva offices, on November 18, 1958, each holding the other's tool. Photo: A Gazeta Esportiva

Biriba died in São Paulo on September 25, 2025, aged 80. This is 360TT’s tribute to the first great name in Brazilian table tennis.

The rest of the decade strengthened the partnership. In 1963, in an ITTF test, the DHS ball tied for first place with England’s Halex. In 1965, at the World Championships in Ljubljana, every Chinese player used DHS rackets (the “65” series), China took 5 of the 7 titles and the Chinese women beat Japan, which had dominated the women’s game for eight years.

The small ball moved the big ball

China stayed away from the World Championships for six years and returned in 1971, in Nagoya, Japan. That is where the most famous episode in the sport’s history took place. The American Glenn Cowan, 19, got on the Chinese team’s bus (by mistake, according to the best-known version). Zhuang Zedong, three-time world champion, went to talk to him and gave him a silk painting of the Huangshan mountains; Cowan returned the favor with a T-shirt bearing the peace symbol. The photos went around the world, and days later the American team was invited to play in China, one of the first groups of Americans to enter the country since 1949. This was “ping-pong diplomacy”, which brought China and the United States back together after 22 years of closed doors and paved the way for Richard Nixon’s visit to Beijing in February 1972. “The small ball moved the big ball”, as the Chinese say.

If you want the behind-the-scenes story, there is a great book: Ping-Pong Diplomacy: The Secret History Behind the Game That Changed the World, by American journalist Nicholas Griffin (Scribner, 2014). He tells how table tennis was used as a political tool from the 1950s on, and he even doubts the “chance” encounter in Nagoya: in his view, the Chinese were expecting Cowan.

Ping-Pong Diplomacy, by Nicholas Griffin (Scribner, 2014). Image: book cover reproduction

With the sport back to life in the country, DHS production grew again, and in 1972 its ball got the highest overall score in an ITTF test.

The 1970s, however, belonged to Europe’s comeback. The Europeans combined Chinese fast attack with Japanese topspin and caught up with the Asians. China’s answer came in 1981: after two years of rebuilding, the team won all 7 titles at the World Championships in Novi Sad, the first time a single country took everything in 55 years of the event.

In the early 1980s, DHS also went out into the world with the PF4 line (ball, racket and rubber), the first Chinese brand to open markets abroad. The PF4 still exists, today as a family of tacky-topsheet rubbers.

The old PF4 package. Image: DHS Handbook

DHS PF4The legendary rubber that took DHS to the world, updated for the 40+ ball: the same spin as always, with more speed in attack. Visit the store →

In 1988, in Seoul, table tennis became an Olympic sport. In 1995, DHS unified its brand into a single company, and its ball was the official ball of the World Championships in Tianjin, where China, once again, took all 7 titles. That is the birth of what the Chinese call “the world against China”.

The PF4 ball presented as the official ball of the 43rd World Championships, Tianjin, 1995. Image: DHS Handbook

The world against China

With China winning everything, the ITTF began changing the rules to make the game more competitive and easier to watch on TV. DHS was involved in those changes. In 1996, according to the handbook, the ITTF commissioned it to develop the bigger ball. The Sydney Olympics, in 2000, were the last major competition with the 38 mm ball, and a DHS ball: the first time Chinese equipment was official at an Olympic Games. That same year, the World Cup in Yangzhou debuted the 40 mm ball, also DHS. I covered that change in detail in the ball guide, from 38 mm to 40+. Next came 11-point games (2001) and the serve without hiding the ball (2002).

The Sydney 2000 ball, the last major competition with the 38 mm ball. Image: DHS Handbook

In rubbers, the turning point had come in 1998, when DHS launched the rubber already glued to its sponge at the factory. Until then, Chinese players bought the topsheet and the sponge separately. That is how the G888 (used by Wang Liqin and Yan Sen while the ball was still small) and the Kuangbiao family, known worldwide as Hurricane, were born. With the 40 mm ball, speed became the priority, and the Hurricane 2 and the Hurricane 3 were designed for it.

The G888, from 1998: DHS's first rubber already glued to its sponge. Image: DHS Handbook

DHS G888DHS's first rubber already glued to its sponge is still in production: a very tacky topsheet for maximum spin in mid-distance attack. Visit the store →

In blades, it is a comeback story. Since the 1980s, the Chinese team had used almost only foreign blades. In 2003, DHS studied the game of eight national team players and launched Hurricane blades named after each of them. In 2005, at the World Championships in Shanghai, the Hurricane Wang helped Wang Liqin win the singles and the mixed doubles. In 2006, the Skyline 2 and Skyline 3, made for Ma Lin and Wang Hao, completed the lineup, and 70% of the team’s forehands were already on DHS rubber.

Wang Liqin at the 2005 World Championships in Shanghai. Image: DHS Handbook

In 2008, DHS supplied the Beijing Olympics, and China won the team events and the top three places in both singles.

The table of the Beijing 2008 Games. Image: DHS Handbook

Shortly afterwards, on September 1, 2008, the ban on solvent-based speed glue came into force (I told that story in Why Is Your Glue Water-Based Today?). It is the best example of the cycle: DHS tested less tacky rubbers and thicker pimples with the national team, and the players’ answer was to keep the rubber tacky. So the factory worked on the sponge instead. That is how the NEO line was born, with a sponge treated at the factory to be “stretched”, imitating the effect the glue used to give.

DHS Hurricane 3 NEOThe rubber that has followed the Chinese team from the 40 mm ball to the present day, with a factory-treated NEO sponge. Visit the store →

The Ma Long era

Ma Long signed with DHS in 2008, and the history of his blades shows the cycle in detail. According to the handbook:

2008: the first Hurricane Long, built on the blade he was already using;
2011: he switches to a seven-ply, all-wood blade and puts together 51 straight wins starting at the Suzhou Open. DHS launches the Hurricane Long 2;
2012: the Hurricane Long 3, with improved internal glue at his request, and the blue handle with the yellow crescent that became his trademark;
2013: the Hurricane Long 5, with inner carbon and aramid layers, with which he wins the National Games;
2016: after the gold in Rio, the Long 5 gets a smaller blade face;
2021: the Golden Slam edition, to celebrate his Tokyo feat.

The evolution of Ma Long's blades (labels in Portuguese). Images: DHS Handbook; layout: 360TT

Ma Long and the Hurricane Long 5 Golden Slam. Image: DHS Handbook

I covered that evolution, and what it teaches about changing blades, in the post Ma Long’s Lesson. In 2015, with the Long 5 and Hurricane 3 on both sides, he won the World Championships, the World Cup and the Grand Finals. In 2021, in Tokyo, with the same setup, he completed the Olympic, World Championship and World Cup singles titles for the second time, the “golden grand slam”, and was the first player ever to do it.

Meanwhile, the ball changed again. In 2011 DHS announced a ball made of a new material, and the ITTF decided to retire celluloid, which had been used for more than a hundred years. The change took effect on July 1, 2014. Besides changing the game, it solved a practical problem: celluloid catches fire easily and was shipped as dangerous goods; the plastic ball travels by air without restrictions. DHS’s first new ball was the official ball of the World Championships and the Rio Olympics; in 2017 came the ABS plastic ball that led to the DJ40+, the Tokyo ball.

The figures DHS publishes about the Chinese team and the market show how big this is. They are the brand’s own data, from 2022, but they are impressive:

97%of the Chinese team's forehands on DHS rubber

46%of the team's blades are DHS

50%+of the world's table tennis balls are made by DHS

70%of major competitions use the DHS 3-star ball

The handbook also shows a lesser-known side. In 2010, the top four in the men’s singles at the World Championships all played with DHS equipment. In 2017, the brand launched the Gold Arc 5 and Gold Arc 8, non-tacky, European-style rubbers, made in Germany by ESN and tested by Wang Liqin and Ma Long. And, in 2022, the colored Hurricane 9, after the ITTF allowed colored rubbers. On the backhand, DHS rubber also gained ground with the 40+ ball: 32% of the team’s backhands in 2022.

From Paris 2024 to today

The handbook dates from 2022, so from here on the sources are the ITTF and the specialized press. At Paris 2024, DHS was the official supplier of the tables and nets for the Olympic and Paralympic tournaments, with a table made for the Games based on the Rainbow II. It was the seventh Olympic Games in a row with DHS equipment, from Sydney to Paris.

In April 2025, the ITTF renewed DHS as the official table supplier for the World Championships Finals from 2025 to 2028, starting in Doha, with the Rainbow table. It was on that table that Hugo Calderano reached the World Championships final, the best result ever by a Brazilian.

The Rainbow table at the 2025 World Championships in Doha, before play began. Photo: ITTF

🏓 Curiosities from the handbook

The 44 mm ball: in 2003, DHS launched a bigger ball, slower and with less spin, for recreation and beginners. Today it is used in physical education classes in Chinese schools.
The racket gauge: the device that measures rubber thickness at racket control in international competitions is supplied by DHS.
A museum table: the Rainbow table from the London 2012 Games, with arches shaped like the Olympic rings, was kept permanently by the International Olympic Committee at its headquarters in Switzerland.
The Beijing table: the table for the 2008 Olympics was designed from the Chinese character for Beijing, 京.
The two-color ball: in 2014, DHS and the Chinese federation tested a two-color ball, which makes spin more visible on TV and for the receiver.
The World Championships trophies: each of the 7 titles has a trophy with its own name, such as the Swaythling Cup (men’s team) and the Corbillon Cup (women’s team). They are made of silver and pass from champion to champion: the winner only gets to engrave their name.

The London 2012 Games table, now in the IOC collection. Image: DHS Handbook

The two-color ball, from 2014. Image: DHS Handbook

DHS D40+ ABS Bi Colour ball (box of 10)The two-color version of the D40+: you can see the spin as it rotates, great for training how to read spin. Visit the store →

Leaf through the handbook

For those who want to see the original, here are some pages from the DHS handbook: the cover, the nine timeline pages this post is based on, the page on Ma Long’s blades and the one on the history of the balls. Click any of them to enlarge it.

Cover

1890–1937

1946–1963

1965–1989

1995–2000

2000–2005

2007–2009

2010–2014

2014–2020

2021–2022

Ma Long's blades

History of the balls

Pages from the DHS Handbook (Service Guide, 4th edition, 2022, in Chinese). Images: DHS Handbook

What this story teaches players

🤓 360TT technical view

Reading the whole timeline, one thing stands out: equipment changes because the rules change. The 40 mm ball, the end of speed glue, the plastic ball: every ITTF change forced manufacturers to rework rubber, sponge and blade. DHS had the advantage of being inside those decisions and of testing everything with the strongest team in the world before it reached the shop.

That is why Chinese rubber is the way it is. The Hurricane, tacky and hard, was born for the Chinese style, which generates speed and spin through technique: technique is what puts real energy into the hard sponge. With little energy, the rubber feels slow; with technique, it becomes practically two rubbers in one, with control on passive balls from the tacky topsheet and power from the hard sponge. I explained this in detail in So, which rubber should you use? The null hypothesis method, where I also tell how the rest of the world adopted tacky and hybrid rubbers, driven by the German company ESN, the same one that makes the DHS Gold Arc.

The other lesson is simpler: what the Chinese team uses is available in the shop, with differences in quality control between versions (I explained this in the Hurricane 3 guide). Since 2023, 360TT has been the official DHS distributor in Brazil, and it was as a distributor that we received from DHS the handbook this post is based on.

Now I want to hear from you: what was your first piece of DHS equipment? A PF4, a Hurricane, a box of balls at the club? Did you know this story? Tell me in the comments.

See DHS rubbers in the shop

So, which rubber should you use? The null hypothesis method

Sun, 18 Oct 2026 23:05:00 -0300

I wrote the first version of this article a few years ago. I sent it to a few WhatsApp groups, told anyone who wanted to share it to go ahead, and it traveled all over Brazil. One day I was asked to publish it on an official Brazilian table tennis website, as long as I first made an infographic summarizing everything, because “it’s too long, nobody will read it”. I didn’t make the infographic. If nobody was going to read it, there was no point in publishing it.

Since then, something I argued for in 2022, when almost nobody was talking about it — that tacky and hybrid rubbers would change the game — has become what you see on any broadcast from the world circuit. That was the push I needed to rewrite the text, now with numbers and with a real case of a hypothesis tested on a worldwide scale. It’s still long. But it’s the first post on this new blog, and I think it’s fair to start with the subject that causes the most confusion, wasted money and regret in table tennis: so, which rubber should you use?

The short answer: probably not the one you’re thinking of buying. The long one is coming.

TL;DR: “tried it and liked it” is a clinical trial without a control: the novelty effect fools you, and the right starting point is the null hypothesis — the new rubber is not better than yours until proven otherwise. In Butterfly’s own catalog, spin and arc follow sponge hardness in an almost straight line (correlations of 0.97 and 0.98). So choose by method: throw angle, hardness, thickness, cost per month of use and your current technical level. Tacky and hybrid rubbers are the real case of a hypothesis tested by the whole world. And, once you’ve chosen your rubber, stop switching: it takes 60 to 90 days of training for it to pay off.

Note

I don’t mean to judge anyone who likes testing equipment. Back when I played, I made my rubbers last until they were worn out, and then used them a few more days. Today, now that I can afford it, I also buy things just because I like them or out of curiosity. But the scope here is different: what does or doesn’t help you win more points and more matches. And that doesn’t depend on our curiosity.

For years I’ve followed opinions and recommendations about equipment with a certain unease. Many come from smart, honest people, some of whom I know well. What bothers me isn’t the opinion itself: it’s how easily rationality collapses in the face of a shallow argument, with no technical or logical basis, bordering on mysticism. Without a minimum of method, we become hostages to “tried it and liked it”, to fashion, to the recommendation of the influencer of the moment or to the rubber that so-and-so from the national team uses.

The clinical trial of your racket

Start with a hypothesis: “rubber X, regardless of brand, price, weight or hardness, is the best for athlete Y to win more matches”. Note: it’s not about landing more drives in training. It’s about winning more matches.

That hypothesis is born with a very low probability of being right. The obvious combinations, like “famous rubber used by a famous player”, were picked long ago: they’re the low-hanging fruit. What’s left is high up in the tree, more expensive and more laborious to reach.

And the tree is huge. In October 2019, the ITTF celebrated a record: more than 1,600 rubbers on the list of authorized racket coverings (LARC). On September 21, 2026, I checked the official list: there are 1,716 approved rubbers from 150 brands. In the meantime, many dropped off (approvals expire, manufacturers discontinue models), but even more came in. The funnel keeps growing.

On top of that, each rubber behaves differently on each blade. Simplifying a lot, with just three blades from the same brand (defensive, allround and offensive), you already have 5,148 combinations: a 0.02% chance of getting it right at random. And that math is generous, because it assumes a single rubber per racket, when the forehand and backhand usually carry different rubbers.

Keep that number in mind, 0.02%. It will show up again somewhere very different.

🔎 The cover challenge

In fact, it has already shown up once: this post’s cover image has 5,148 rackets, one for each combination, and only one is orange. Missed it? Scroll back up and take a good look. Found it? That’s your chance of getting it right by luck.

I went digging in a field that isn’t mine, to draw a parallel. Before a drug reaches the pharmacy, it goes through a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trial. Patients are randomly split into two groups: one gets the drug, the other gets a pill with no active ingredient at all (the placebo). “Double-blind” means that neither the patient nor the doctor doing the assessment knows who is in which group until the end of the study.

All that care exists because of a real, well-documented phenomenon: the placebo effect. A significant share of the people who take the sugar pill, thinking it’s medicine, report improvement, out of expectation, extra attention, the ritual of “being treated”. It’s an effect strong enough to contaminate any assessment done without a control.

That’s why the starting hypothesis of every clinical trial, the null hypothesis, isn’t “the drug works”. It’s the opposite: “this treatment is no better than the placebo”. You run the study, compare the groups and ask: if the drug did nothing, what would be the chance of seeing a difference this size or larger just by chance? If that chance falls below 5% — the famous “p < 0.05” that shows up in any serious study — the null hypothesis is rejected. And even then, regulatory agencies usually require more than one study before approving anything.

The funnel is relentless. The most quoted estimate in the pharmaceutical industry is 1 drug approved for every 5,000 to 10,000 compounds examined in the discovery phase. In the best case, 1 in 5,000: 0.02%. And of those that make it to human trials, fewer than 1 in 10 is approved (7.9%, according to the most recent survey by BIO, the US biotechnology industry association, covering 2011 to 2020).

Did you notice? 0.02% is practically the same as the chance of picking the right rubber-and-blade combination at random. A numerical coincidence, of course. But the logic is the same: when the search space is huge, a guess almost always misses.

Now, your reality. You buy a new rubber, train two or three sessions, like it and conclude: “this is the one”. Statistically, you’ve just run a clinical trial with a single patient, no control group, no blinding and an enormous expectation bias. You knew it was new, you paid more attention to your fundamentals, you trained with more motivation, you’d already paid a lot for it (and nobody likes admitting they wasted their money), and you were still riding the manufacturer’s marketing or the social media hype. It’s the placebo effect, applied to the racket.

And there’s one more ingredient, maybe the most treacherous: almost nobody switches rubbers during a good spell. We switch after a bad run, and bad runs pass on their own, with or without a new rubber. In statistics, that’s called regression to the mean. At the table, it becomes “the new rubber fixed it”.

“Tried it and liked it” is not evidence that the rubber is better. It’s exactly what a clinical trial exists to filter out.

That’s why the right stance is to keep the null hypothesis by default: the new rubber is not better than yours until proven otherwise, with enough time to separate the real effect from the novelty effect. In practice, that time is around 60 to 90 days of training. Not out of pessimism. Out of method.

One detail makes all the difference: in statistics, the null hypothesis is never “proven”. At most, a study fails to reject it. Nobody proves that “rubber X doesn’t work”; what exists is an absence of evidence that it works, which is quite different. That’s why the burden of proof always lies with whoever claims it works, never the other way around.

Now you start to understand why there are so many rubber models and so much marketing around them. And why it’s so tempting to use your favorite player’s rubber.

The next Waldner and the silent graveyard

Your 10-year-old cousin plays far above his training partners and is always praised by the coach. Could he be the next Waldner? He could. Is it likely? No: there are thousands of kids like him around the world, and most will never turn pro. When one of them finally reaches the top 20, the coach says he “always knew”. That’s hindsight bias: once the result shows up, memory rewrites the past and everything seems to have been predictable, while hundreds of other coaches thought the same about their own pupils. For a neutral observer, back at the start, the logical thing was the null hypothesis: that boy will probably become a driver, a lawyer, a dentist, and most promising talents stay just that, promising. Whoever sells or manufactures something shouldn’t fall in love with their own creation, which is exactly what a mother does when she swears her son is the next Waldner.

The same happens with the champion’s rubber: you only see the ones who made it. In the business world they say the graveyard is silent: companies that went bust don’t give keynote talks. Nassim Taleb calls this silent evidence. There’s no list of the thousands who used the same rubber and got nowhere, and nobody sees the years of training that made that rubber work in the champion’s hand.

And there’s the opposite path. Everyone knows the athlete who, when he loses, finds the culprit: the equipment, the lighting, the ball, the floor, the air conditioning. The philosopher Karl Popper had a name for this: ad hoc hypothesis, an explanation invented after the fact, just to save a belief that reality was knocking down. With rubbers, it sounds like this: “the rubber is great, I just wasn’t having a good day”, “it only works when boosted”, “it didn’t match my blade”. Each of those sentences protects a belief instead of testing it.

The antidote has existed since the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment, which pulled us out of magical explanations and the authority of tradition. Your smartphone exists because of chemistry, not alchemy: nobody got to the lithium battery by mixing substances at random and making up excuses for every mix that went wrong. But when it comes to equipment, we’re still very medieval. The method is clear: assume it doesn’t work, leave the burden of proof with whoever claims it does, and don’t make up excuses when the null hypothesis wins.

The Enlightenment gathered in one salon: in this 1812 painting, Anicet-Charles-Gabriel Lemonnier imagined the leading names of the era in Paris, in 1755, listening to a reading of a play by Voltaire (the bust in the background). Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

What the catalog itself reveals

Among rubbers in the same hardness range, most of the differences that marketing advertises are just sales pitch. Unfortunately. Or fortunately! And the proof comes from the most unlikely place: the manufacturer’s own numbers.

Before going on, a clarification: what follows is not a criticism of Butterfly. Quite the opposite: they’re incredible products, and I always say the Dignics 09C is the best Butterfly rubber of all time. I use their numbers precisely because the catalog gives indexes for an entire line, all measured the same way, and that makes the math possible.

And a technical caveat. Butterfly doesn’t publish “control” as a metric. It publishes Speed, Spin and Arc, all relative indexes, measured in its own tests (the numbers here are from the 2026 catalog). Arc, by Butterfly’s own definition, measures how easily the rubber produces a high trajectory on the topspin. In other words, it mixes the ball’s throw angle with the effect of spin on the curve. I’ll say more about that later; here, I keep the name from the table.

Source: Butterfly 2026 catalog. Analysis: 360TT.

I cross-referenced the three indexes of 16 rubbers from Butterfly’s High Tension generation: Tenergy, Dignics, Zyre, Glayzer and Rozena. I left out the ones that predate that technology (Sriver, Sriver EL, Flextra and Tackiness Chop), the Roundell, well below the Tenergy line in performance and in use, and the Tenergy 25 family, which barely circulates in Brazil.

The result: spin and arc follow sponge hardness with correlations of 0.97 and 0.98, respectively. Almost a straight line. Speed, on the other hand, tracks nothing: it sits between 75 and 90 for all of them.

And the catalog throws in a lab test for free. The Tenergy 05 Hard is, by Butterfly’s own text, the Tenergy 05 with a harder sponge (from 36° to 43°). Spin goes up 26%, arc goes up 16%, and speed doesn’t budge (83 and 82). Only the hardness changed, and performance jumped the way that, in theory, it should only jump with a whole new line. The Tenergy 05 Hard ties on spin with the Dignics 09C, which costs a third more, and even comes close to the Zyre 03, the most expensive of all, launched years later. The name changes, the price changes, the sponge gets harder, and the result follows the hardness, not the name of the technology.

How much of the “generational leap” is repackaged hardness?

There’s one exception that confirms the rule instead of breaking it: the two slowest rubbers in the group aren’t the softest. They’re the only hybrids in the catalog, Glayzer 09C (speed 75) and Dignics 09C (79), both with a tacky topsheet. And the catalog gives you a second test that looks free but has a catch: the Dignics 09C and the Zyre 03 use the same sponge, the 44° Spring Sponge X. The tacky one comes out at speed 79; the non-tacky one, at 88. But the topsheet isn’t the only difference: the Zyre 03 has a thinner topsheet and, to make up for it, a thicker sponge (2.5 or 2.7 mm, versus 1.9 or 2.1 mm on the Dignics 09C). Part of that speed is less tackiness; part is more sponge. There, hardness doesn’t act alone: the tackiness holds the ball longer on contact, steals speed and gives back trajectory. It’s no coincidence that the two hybrids are among the highest-arc rubbers in the group (95 and 96). Butterfly doesn’t say how it measures speed, but the number is what you’d expect from a low-energy test, in which the hard sponge doesn’t even get activated. It’s the same “slowness” many people feel when they try a Chinese or a hybrid rubber, and that disappears when technique puts real energy into the stroke.

And here comes a variable almost no manufacturer explains: sponge thickness. When the catalog says rubber X has speed Y, it doesn’t say which thickness it measured, and most likely it’s the thickest in the line. With regular sponges, the rule is simple: the thicker, the faster. The Zyre 03 illustrates this: it isn’t faster than the Dignics because its sponge uses a different technology, but because it has more of the same sponge. The relationship only flips with absorbing sponges, made to deaden the ball, like those of the Sauer & Tröger Blackout and the Dr. Neubauer A-B-S 3 Pro anti-spin rubbers: with them, the thicker the sponge, the more it absorbs, and the slower the rubber.

And with hybrids, the story gets more interesting than a catalog number: the throw angle changes with the stroke. Contact dominated by the topsheet (more tack, more dwell time on the rubber) produces a high throw angle. Contact dominated by the sponge (a drier touch, with less tack coming into play) produces a much flatter trajectory. It’s the same rubber with two behaviors, depending on execution: the “2 in 1” I talk about further on, now applied to the trajectory.

Sponge hardness, by the way, is the most glaring example of how each manufacturer creates its own ruler. Rubber hardness is measured with a durometer, on the Shore scales: within the same scale, the higher the number, the harder. But there are different Shore scales, with no simple conversion between them, and many manufacturers don’t really use a standardized scale at all. The “degrees” on the package are usually the brand’s internal ruler. A “40° DHS” and a “40° ESN” don’t necessarily represent the same physical hardness. The chart above only works because it compares rubbers from a single brand, on the same ruler.

Another subject that has become a fad is the so-called arc of the ball, poorly understood and “sold” in a strange way. The arc is the curve the ball draws in the air, and what draws that curve is physics: the angle and speed at which the ball leaves the racket, gravity pulling down, and spin. On a topspin, the Magnus effect pushes the ball down and closes the curve. The rubber plays a part in two ways: in the throw angle (which depends on sponge hardness, topsheet grip and pimple design) and in how much spin it lets you generate. But what generates the spin is your technique. Without enough spin, the ball comes out high, makes a long, open parabola and goes past the table. Throw Angle is not arc: it’s just its starting point.

About control, which I consider subjective: if rubber speed were always linear, control would just be a function of speed. It isn’t. Soft rubbers react more with little energy applied and give the false sensation of being fast. Hard rubbers (like Chinese ones or the Tenergy 05 Hard itself) are more direct, and if you can’t apply enough energy to activate the sponge, you’ll get the false sensation that they’re slower than soft ones. Tacky-topsheet rubbers with a hard sponge, by the way, give a much greater sense of control on passive balls (serve, receive, push, block) and are very fast on high-power attacks, when your technique activates the sponge. Keep that in mind for a little later.

Some conclusions:

Choosing by catalog speed is almost useless: the manufacturer doesn’t say which thickness it measured, and the difference between models is small and doesn’t even track hardness. What would help is an index per thickness, something like 1.7 mm: speed 7; 1.9 mm: 8.5; 2.1 mm: 10 (numbers just for illustration). Then it would make sense.
So is choosing by catalog spin: it practically repeats the sponge hardness. Look at the hardness and you already know almost everything that number tells you.
Choosing by the stated control is useless: control isn’t just a function of speed, and it’s subjective.
The catalog “arc” says little about your game: it depends on your ability to generate spin, and even the blade contributes. What’s worth looking at is the throw angle; I’ll get there.
Choosing the famous player’s rubber is completely useless: what he does with it is the fruit of a technique you probably haven’t developed yet, built over years of training with that equipment. It’s correlation mistaken for causation.
Choosing because a friend “tried it and liked it” is just as useless. Most people test by hitting drives in a controlled setting, when they should test in real matches, and only after adjusting their muscle memory to the rubber. Then the opinion would have some method behind it.

How to choose by method

With the null hypothesis as a premise, how do you choose a rubber?

Method 1 — Middle Ages precepts: catalog arc, spin, speed and control, marketing descriptions, fashion, “tried it and liked it”, “my favorite player uses…”.

Method 2 — Enlightenment precepts: throw angle, sponge hardness, overall perceived hardness, sponge thickness, cost per month of use and, above all, your current technical level.

A good drug doesn’t come from testing a thousand substances at random hoping one will reveal itself. It comes from criteria for choosing the compound and fine-tuning the dose. With rubber it’s the same: choose by Method 2 and, once you’ve chosen, adjust your technique to it.

Throw angle: rubbers that lift the ball a lot on topspin push low and, if the sponge is soft, tend to be more sensitive to the opponent’s spin (they “eat” more spin): it gets harder to receive a heavy backspin serve, but easier to open up against backspin. Examples: Butterfly Tenergy 05 and Donic Bluefire, M line. Rubbers that lift the ball less push higher, are less sensitive to the opponent’s spin, and their topspins arrive faster and deeper, making the counterattack harder. Examples: Butterfly Tenergy 64, Donic Acuda Blue, P line, and hard Chinese rubbers like the DHS Hurricane 3 National Blue Sponge (the line Ma Long uses on his forehand).

Wang Chuqin in the semifinal of the 2025 World Championships in Doha (May 24, 2025), a tournament he won: on the left, backspin; on the right, topspin. Photos: WTT/Eng Chin An

Sponge hardness: there’s no reliable general table; each manufacturer uses its own ruler, as we saw. If you don’t have refined technique or an athlete’s fitness, and don’t train every day, avoid very hard rubbers, like Butterfly’s 44° ones, those at 52.5° or more on the ESN scale or a DHS Hurricane 3 above 39°. You’ll probably find these “cannons” heavy and slow.

This also explains a phenomenon that confuses a lot of people: a rubber considered “medium hardness” two decades ago may feel soft today, without the sponge having changed one millimeter. The ball has become bigger and more demanding. In 2000, it went from 38 mm and 2.5 g to 40 mm and 2.7 g. In 2014, it switched from celluloid to plastic (the 40+ ball), which is stiffer; and, from 2017 on, came the ABS generations that dominate today (I tell that story here). A bigger, heavier, harder ball engages the sponge more and demands more from it to return the same response. Add to that the end of speed glue, in 2008 (the full story is here), and the market pushed the ruler upward: so-called “dynamic” sponges appeared, firmer and more reactive. The middle of the scale shifted. What used to be “medium”, compared with today’s catalog, falls into the range we call soft. It’s not that the rubber got weaker; it’s that the ruler moved.

A good starting point is an intermediate hardness: 45° to 47.5° on the ESN scale, 37° to 38° on DHS (except Gold Arc 5 and 8) and 36° to 38° on Butterfly.

Overall perceived hardness: what you feel in your hand is the combination of sponge and topsheet, and it can be quite different from the sponge’s nominal hardness, besides being tremendously influenced by the blade. Donic’s Bluestorm line has a good example: the Z1 and the Z2 have the same 47.5° sponge, but the Z1 feels harder because of the topsheet. The DHS Gold Arc, even with a sponge considered medium (42.5° or 47.5°), is reported by many players as “harder than it looks on paper”, an effect of its firm, non-tacky topsheet.

Sponge thickness: when you buy, the manufacturer usually offers three choices: color (one side black and the other colored, as the rules require), hardness (not every brand offers more than one) and thickness. That last one matters a lot, and hardly anyone thinks about it. The physics is simple: the sponge works like a spring. The thicker it is, the more room the ball has to sink in and the more energy it gives back, so the rubber gets faster. The thinner it is, the sooner the ball reaches the wood: the feel gets firmer and more direct, speed drops, but spin doesn’t drop with it. Relative to speed, you get even more spin, and the ball dips more onto the table. The thick one only wins on a very hard stroke, where the thin sponge bottoms out. In Brazil, it became the rule to always buy the thickest, as if thickness meant quality. It doesn’t. When I trained seriously, I used Max on the forehand and 2.0 mm on the backhand. And thick sponges are nothing new: in the ’90s I played with Yasaka Mark V 2.5 mm and speed glue, which swelled the sponge even more; it was surely already at the Zyre 03’s 2.7 mm. This habit costs everyone: since the Brazilian market rejects thin sponges, importers avoid bringing them in, and the players who need them are left without options.

Cost per month of use: the most expensive rubber on the market won’t make you win more matches, believe me! (Yes, I’m a terrible salesman…) As we saw in the numbers, the price follows the name of the technology, not the result. And there’s a calculation almost nobody does: durability. Traditional Chinese rubbers, like the DHS Hurricane 3 National Blue Sponge, are among the most durable on the market: a dense sponge and a tough topsheet lose tack and response much more slowly than most of the latest-generation European and Japanese rubbers. A cheaper rubber that also lasts more months of hard training comes out much cheaper per month of use than an expensive “technology” rubber with a short lifespan. Before comparing list prices, ask: how many months of training does each option really deliver?

Current technical level: perhaps the most applicable suggestion of all. I don’t like the idea that an athlete’s performance is something fixed: saying “so-and-so is better than such-and-such” ignores that both are constantly evolving. At 360TT we use a dynamic assessment report, filled in by the athlete and the coach, that compares how each of them sees the athlete’s current technical level. And that reference changes as the athlete evolves: a topspin rated 8 against state-level players may be worth a 3 at a Pro Tour, because the reference changed. It’s the same logic as the hardness ruler that moved. In general, with more technique and better fitness, harder rubbers start being put to better use.

The world changed its mind about tacky rubbers

I’ve been championing Chinese and hybrid rubbers for years, because of the huge advantage they give. They’re practically two rubbers in one: power from the hard sponge, a sense of control on passive balls from the tacky topsheet, and more spin generation. China has always used hard, tacky rubber on the forehand, and later on the backhand too (why the Chinese elite carries the Hurricane 8 on the backhand). When hybrids started to appear, it was clear that Western manufacturers were trying to combine the power of European and Japanese rubbers with the advantage of the Chinese tacky topsheet.

I even posted about it on 360TT’s Instagram, in January 2022, when we were still reselling other brands, before becoming the official DHS distributor. The 5 reasons I pointed out still hold, now with an extra layer of evidence, mass adoption by professionals:

a hybrid makes it easier to keep the ball short (the topsheet’s grip “holds” the ball);
it gives more spin on the serve, without the ball shooting off, making the opponent’s receive harder;
it gives a greater sense of control on passive balls (push, block, serve receive), making it easier to put the ball where you want;
it allows attacks with more spin, making up for the loss of spin with plastic balls without losing speed, thanks to dynamic sponges;
it helps refine technique: with a greater sense of control, you hit relaxed, not tense, and still gain speed.

360TT's Instagram post from January 21, 2022 (in Portuguese: \"The 5 reasons to use a hybrid rubber\").

Back then, though, hybrids still fell well short of pure Chinese rubbers, like the Hurricane 3 National Blue Sponge itself. And the market, at first, didn’t really understand how they worked: it labeled hybrids as “slow”, the same way it had always labeled traditional Chinese rubbers. In reality, they were less slow than pure Chinese rubbers, but they felt slow for the reason I explained above: the false sensation of slowness for those who can’t apply enough energy to a hard sponge and overcome the tack of the topsheet.

Want to check it? Put a rubber protector film on your “slow” Chinese rubber (it isolates the tack) and bounce the ball. Then tell me whether it died (as it does without the protector) or bounced high.

With players’ gradual adaptation and the evolution of tacky topsheets, driven mainly by the German company ESN, which manufactures for practically everyone (Donic, Tibhar, Stiga, Andro, Joola, Gewo, Xiom, among others, including DHS’s Gold Arc 5 and 8 line), the advantage that was almost exclusive to the Chinese started to shrink. Never have so many Chinese and hybrid rubbers been used around the world as today.

A good “home-grown” example for us Brazilians is Hugo Calderano. He had already switched to hybrid rubbers some time before: I noticed it in his game before the market talked about it, I even brought it up in the WhatsApp groups I’m part of, and Xiom itself confirmed it the same week I mentioned it. The trajectory of passive balls on a tacky rubber is very distinctive, and his passive game improved a lot: serve, receive and so on. The power of his counterattack also increased. 2025 brought the biggest results of his career. On April 20, he won the World Cup in Macao, beating Tomokazu Harimoto in the quarterfinals, Wang Chuqin in the semifinal and Lin Shidong in the final, and became the first World Cup champion from outside Asia and Europe. A month later, at the World Championships in Doha, he beat Liang Jingkun in the semifinal and only lost in the final, against the same Wang Chuqin. Far be it from me to reduce any player to the equipment he uses (I know very well how much training it takes to get the most out of any tool), but the tools are, without a doubt, more capable.

Calderano and Thiago Monteiro, then head coach of Brazil's men's team, seconds after the historic title in Macao (April 20, 2025). Photo: ITTF

China, for its part, is going through a strange moment. In the men’s world ranking at the start of October 2026, number 1 is a 19-year-old Japanese player, Sora Matsushima, and only two Chinese players appear in the top ten: Wang Chuqin, in 4th, and Lin Shidong, in 9th. Days later, at China Smash, in Beijing, the men’s final was between Matsushima and Lin Yun-ju, from Chinese Taipei, without a single player from the Chinese national team. On the women’s side, the dominance continues: six Chinese players in the top 10, and the title at that same China Smash went to Wang Manyu. The signs had been there for a while. Three days after Calderano’s title, on April 23, 2025, Liu Guoliang stepped down as president of the Chinese Table Tennis Association, which he had led since 2018 (officially, to ease the transition to Los Angeles 2028). Months earlier, Fan Zhendong, Chen Meng and Ma Long had dropped out of the world ranking, at odds with the WTT rule that fines players who skip mandatory tournaments. And at the 2026 World Team Championships in London, the men’s team lost twice in the group stage, to South Korea and to Sweden. It still recovered and won the title (I told the story of that turnaround here), but with a struggle that didn’t exist before. None of this is explained by a single factor. My hypothesis, and it is a hypothesis, subject to the same method as this article, is that the worldwide adoption of tacky and hybrid rubbers narrowed a gap that China enjoyed almost on its own.

Since the world truly adopted Chinese and hybrid rubbers, the balance of forces in table tennis seems to have shifted, including on the women’s side, and we’re all relearning how to play. In the end, it’s a real case, on a worldwide scale, of the mechanism I’ve been defending throughout this article: a hypothesis (“Chinese and hybrid rubbers are slow”) was held for years, until the accumulated evidence knocked it down. And notice the difference: it’s not “the champion uses it, so it works for you”. It’s an entire population of players, of every level, migrating over years. That’s evidence that the equipment works for those who learn to use it, not that it will work on its own in your hand. And, of course, among Chinese and hybrid rubbers there are friendlier, more forgiving ones and hard-to-handle, very hard ones. Choose according to your current technical level.

Transparency: 360TT is the official DHS distributor in Brazil. What I say about it is worth what any seller’s claim is worth, and the burden of proof is mine.

If you want to feel this in your own hand, DHS, a traditional maker of tacky rubbers, today has a lineup too complete to ignore: from the old-school tacky of the DHS Hurricane 3 National Blue Sponge, through the hybrids DHS Hurricane 3-50, DHS Skyline 3-60, DHS PF4-50 and DHS Hurricane 8-80, the latter at a much more demanding level, all the way to the non-tacky, European side, made by ESN itself: the DHS Gold Arc line.

And here’s a personal claim, almost a new hypothesis under test: the DHS PF4-50 would comfortably serve a huge share of Brazilian table tennis players, from beginners up to Brazil’s national “Absolute B” division, maybe even “A”. But look closely: it’s exactly the same kind of claim I made about hybrids back in 2022, still without any statistical proof. Hypothesis launched, not yet refuted. Time (and your own hand) will tell.

DHS PF4-50Hybrid rubber with a tacky topsheet and an elastic, soft #50 sponge: spin on the serve and the drive, with control. Visit the store →

Made your choice? Now stop switching

I usually tell athletes that technique and muscle memory adapt to new equipment in 60 to 90 days of training. It varies a little from player to player, but in general that’s it. If the change in equipment isn’t radical, the adjustment takes much less time, as when you replace 6-month-old rubbers with new ones of the same model. The same goes if you switch your forehand rubber for one with a different throw angle: it may bother you today, but in 60 to 90 days you’ll be adapted, beating the people you used to beat and losing to the people you used to lose to. Once the equipment is chosen by logic, winning matches won’t depend on brand or model. It will depend on you being properly adapted to it.

“Don’t switch” doesn’t mean never switch. Replacing a worn rubber with the same model is maintenance. Moving up to a harder sponge when your technical and physical development starts to call for it (and allow it) is a dose adjustment, made on sound criteria; it’s exactly what “current technical level” is about. What doesn’t make sense is switching because of a new release, a fad or because a friend liked it.

Want to test anyway? Run a single-patient trial

Medicine has a name for this: an “N-of-1” trial, with just one patient, but with a control.

Define beforehand what “better” means: tournament results, ranking points, percentage of receives that land on the table. “The ball felt livelier” doesn’t count.
Write down where you stand today, with your current rubber: it’s your control group.
Change one thing only. New rubber and new blade at the same time = impossible to know what did what.
Give it time: 60 to 90 days of training before judging.
Compare with what you defined in step 1 and, if you can, ask your coach for an assessment before and after.

If the difference doesn’t show up, the null hypothesis won: stick with the one you had and invest the money in training.

Once the compound has been chosen by criteria, and not at random, switching medicine every week isn’t treatment, it’s anxiety.

Adjust the protocol: train, refine your technique and get the most out of the equipment you already have. Happy training, everyone!

Now I want to hear from you: what was the last rubber you switched to, and why? Can you say, with any data, that you won more matches with it? And, if you play with the PF4-50, tell me down below: does my hypothesis pass your test? On the old blog I couldn’t reply to comments; here I can. So feel free to disagree, preferably with evidence. The burden of proof applies to me too.

SpongeBob, Waldner and Taleb: Table Tennis Lessons

Thu, 08 Oct 2026 00:57:00 -0300

Quick question: what kind of sponge is SpongeBob?

If you answered “a kitchen sponge”, you’re in good company. Yellow, square, full of little holes — the very image of the sponge next to the sink. And that’s exactly how I used Bob in a text I wrote in 2021 that only circulated in WhatsApp groups: as a symbol of resilience. Squashed, he always bounces back to his original shape. “Be a SpongeBob player,” I said.

Five years later, rereading that text, I realized I had gotten two things wrong.

The first: Bob is not a kitchen sponge. He lives in a pineapple at the bottom of the sea. He’s a sea sponge — and not by accident: the creator of the cartoon, Stephen Hillenburg, was a marine biologist before becoming an animator. Hold on to that, because it changes everything at the end of this text.

Kitchen sponge or sea sponge? The difference is the subject of this text.

The second: resilience is not the goal. It’s the middle of the road.

This post is a rewrite of that old text — now with the help of an author who changed the way I think about training, competition and growth: Nassim Nicholas Taleb.

TL;DR: resilience, going back to normal after pressure, isn’t enough: the goal is to come out better than you went in, which is what Nassim Taleb calls antifragility. Stress in the right dose, with recovery, makes you stronger; changing everything out of anxiety (switching rubbers after every loss, tinkering with technique before a tournament) is iatrogenics, the remedy turning into the disease. It all comes down to the 8 to 10 seconds between points, and you can train it: there’s a table to find out which level you’re at, training ideas, Waldner in 1997 and the truth about SpongeBob.

Fragile, resilient, antifragile: a recap

In May, when China lost two matches in the group stage of the World Team Championships and still left London as champions, I wrote about it here on the blog: The Antifragile China: From Chaos to the World Title. If you haven’t read it, it’s worth it — but here is the three-line summary:

Fragile is what breaks under pressure.
Resilient (or robust) is what withstands the shock and goes back to the same state.
Antifragile is what comes out of the shock better than it went in.

The idea that hit me hardest in the book is simple and uncomfortable: the opposite of fragile is not resilient. Taleb uses the example of a package sent by mail with the label “fragile — handle with care”. The opposite of that would not be a package labeled “I don’t care how you handle me” (that’s the robust one). The opposite would be “please, mistreat me”. Something that gets better when it’s shaken.

In my 2021 text, I defined resilience as “going back to your natural state after suffering pressure”. And right after that, I asked the athlete to change, leave the comfort zone, adapt. I was asking for antifragility without having the word for it. Going back to your natural state is great — but whoever only returns to the same place after every loss is, deep down, standing still.

A little more Taleb

Taleb is a Lebanese-American essayist and former financial trader who has spent his life studying uncertainty, risk and chance. He is the author of The Black Swan and Antifragile (2012), the book where everything I’m using here comes from. Nothing in it is about sport — and, at the same time, almost all of it is useful for anyone who trains.

Damocles, Phoenix and Hydra

The Hydra: for every head cut off, two grow back.

Taleb uses three mythological figures to explain the triad:

Fragile — Damocles: lives with a sword hanging over his head by a single horsehair. One shock and it’s over.
Resilient — Phoenix: dies and is reborn from its own ashes, but is reborn the same.
Antifragile — Hydra: the serpent of Greek mythology: for every head cut off, two grow back. The attack makes it stronger.

Think of how many athletes you know who are Phoenixes: they lose, they suffer, they come back to training on Monday exactly the same. Resilient, yes. But the same loss will happen again at the next tournament, because nothing changed.

Hormesis: the dose makes the medicine

Antifragility doesn’t mean “the more suffering, the better”. Taleb relies on a concept from biology called hormesis: small doses of a stressor make the organism react and get stronger; doses that are too large, or continuous with no rest, break it.

Any coach knows this under another name: it’s the basic principle of training. Load, recovery, adaptation. The muscle doesn’t get stronger during the workout — it gets stronger afterwards, in recovery, as a response to the stress it went through. Without stress, there is no adaptation. Without recovery, there isn’t either.

And here comes the part many people ignore: depriving a system of stress also makes it fragile. The player who only does comfortable rallying, only plays people he already knows, only enters the tournament where he knows he’ll do well, is protecting himself — and getting more fragile every week.

The three players at the table

Picture the scene: fifth set, 8-9, you’re serving. Your opponent’s ball hits the edge of the table and goes off. 8-10.

The fragile player explodes. He complains about the edge, looks at his coach, slaps the racket against his thigh. The point is already over, but he keeps playing that point in his head. He serves fast, in a hurry, with no plan. 8-11. On the way home, it’s the edge’s fault, the ball’s, the table’s, the umpire’s, the new rubber’s.

The resilient player breathes, accepts it, goes back to his routine. He keeps his head up and plays the next point well. He may even turn it around. But, winning or losing, he leaves the match the way he came in.

The antifragile player does everything the resilient one does — and one more thing: he turns what happened into information. That edge teaches nothing (it’s luck, and luck can’t be trained). But the previous point did teach something: the opponent returned my short serve to the forehand with an aggressive flick (what Brazilians call a harau) twice in a row. So the next serve will be different. And after the match, win or lose, he leaves with a new note for Tuesday’s training.

Brazilians have a great expression for the fragile type: the “Gabriela syndrome” — from a famous song by Dorival Caymmi, for people who think they were born one way and will die that way (“I was born like this, I grew up like this, I’ll always be like this”). And there is also the antidote, sung by Raul Seixas: being a metamorfose ambulante, a “walking metamorphosis”. The American psychologist Carol Dweck, of Stanford University, arrived at the same place by another path, researching how people deal with failure: in the book Mindset (2006), she separates the fixed mindset — “my talent is what it is” — from the growth mindset — “my talent is the starting point”. Gabriela is fixed mindset. Raul is growth mindset. Taleb goes one step further: the antifragile doesn’t just believe they can grow — they use stress as fuel for it.

Which level are you at today?

Read the table below honestly. There is no pretty answer: most of us are fragile on some lines and antifragile on others. The goal is to know where you stand, so you know what to train.

Situation	Fragile	Resilient	Antifragile
Training	Prefers what he already knows how to do; avoids drills where he makes many mistakes	Completes the proposed training with discipline	Looks for the drill that exposes the weak spot
Uncomfortable opponent (pips, chopper, left-hander)	Avoids; “I don’t like playing against that”	Plays when he has to, no drama	Asks to train against it
Net and edge	Complains, gestures, carries it into the next point	Accepts it and moves on	Accepts it and moves on — luck isn’t analyzed
Your own bad point	Berates himself out loud; the mistake lasts several points	Returns to the routine quickly	Returns to the routine and extracts information from the mistake
Opponent’s good point	Gets rattled, changes the plan in desperation	Acknowledges it and keeps the plan	Asks “what is he seeing that I’m not?”
Defeat	Blames something external (table, ball, umpire, equipment)	Accepts it, rests and comes back the same	Leaves with 1 or 2 concrete adjustments for training
Equipment	Changes rubber after every loss	Keeps the equipment	Keeps the equipment and only adjusts with a reason and a deadline
Between points	Serves fast, with no plan; the heart races	Has a routine and follows it	Uses the routine to read the game and decide the next point
Inner voice	“It’s not working”, “today’s not my day”	“Calm down, next point”	“What did that point teach me?”

Tip

If most of your answers landed in the first column, start with the basics: a between-points routine and stop changing equipment. If they landed in the second, you already have the foundation — the next step is turning every match into data. If they landed in the third, watch out for the trap in the next section: even the antifragile can get hurt by too much intervention.

Between points: where antifragility really happens

All the reasoning above fits into 8 to 10 seconds. That is roughly the average time between one point and the next in a match — and it is there, not during the rally, that it’s decided whether you’ll be Damocles, Phoenix or Hydra on the next point.

In the post Your heart lost the point, I talked about the physiological side of this: how a racing heart steals decision-making clarity, and how breathing between points helps you regain control. Here, I want to show the other side: the mental structure of those seconds.

The model I use with my athletes — adapted for our table tennis — comes from the work of Hungarian-American Dora Kurimay, a former player and sports psychology specialist, in the book Get Your Game Face On Like the Pros!, which in turn draws on the research of psychologist Jim Loehr with professional tennis players. It has four steps, the 4 R’s:

Reaction — the first 3 seconds after the point ends. Firm posture, head up, no “celebrating the lost point”.
Recovery — breathe, step away from the table, drop your shoulders. Give your body and your head a real pause.
Readiness — two questions: What is the situation? What is my job? Which serve, where, and what I do after it.
Ritual — the fixed gesture before serving or receiving, which tells the body: “now it counts”.

One reference I love from this method is the 80-10-10 rule for reaction: in 80% of points, a neutral reaction (anyone watching can’t tell whether you won or lost the point); in 10%, an energetic celebration on the points that change the momentum of the match; and in 10%, a defiant response after a mistake — a “let’s go!” that pulls you up, instead of a “how awful” that pulls you down.

Between points: 8 to 10 seconds that decide the next point.

Notice how the 4 R’s fit the triad. The fragile player jumps straight from the stimulus to the uncontrolled reaction. The resilient one masters Reaction and Recovery — he returns to normal. The antifragile uses Readiness to turn every point, even the lost ones, into information for the next.

Note

I have a much more complete material on this, which I use in talks and hand to my athletes, with exercises to build your personal between-points routine. It will become a post of its own soon.

Iatrogenics: when the remedy becomes the problem

Of all the concepts in the book, this is my favorite — and the one I see happening most in table tennis.

Iatrogenics is a word from medicine: the harm caused by the treatment itself. Taleb defines it as the harm from a treatment that exceeds its benefits. The classic example is bloodletting, which doctors used for centuries to treat almost everything and which, in many cases, killed the patient faster than the disease. Taleb extends the concept to any field: whenever someone intervenes in a system without knowing whether the benefit will outweigh the damage, they are practicing what he calls naive interventionism.

In table tennis, iatrogenics has a name, a surname and an address:

1. Changing equipment after every loss. It’s the most common case. The player loses a tournament, concludes that “the rubber isn’t working”, and switches. Three weeks later, still adapting, he loses again — and switches again. Technique and muscle memory take, on average, 60 to 90 days to adapt to new equipment. Whoever switches before that never gets to play adapted to anything. The treatment (the switch) became the disease (the inconsistency).

2. Tinkering with technique on the eve of a tournament. Fixing a stroke is necessary — but the week before a competition is the worst possible moment. The player goes into the match thinking about his elbow instead of thinking about his opponent.

3. The coach who corrects everything at once. I include myself here. The wish to help makes us point out ten things after a training session. The athlete can’t process ten things. One or two at a time, at most.

4. Volume without recovery. Training more is the automatic answer to any loss. But, as we saw with hormesis, stress without recovery doesn’t strengthen — it breaks.

5. Changing tactics after every lost point. It looks like flexibility, but it’s anxiety. Adjusting the plan because you read something in the game is one thing; abandoning the plan because you lost two points in a row is another.

Notice an apparent contradiction: in the previous section, I argued that the antifragile changes, adapts, moves on. Now I’m telling you not to touch anything. It’s not a contradiction.

Important

The antifragile changes based on information; the iatrogenic changes based on anxiety. The filter question is always: “am I changing because I learned something, or because I’m uncomfortable?”

Via negativa: improving by subtracting

Taleb defends an idea he calls via negativa: often, the way to improve is not to add something, but to take something away. When in doubt, don’t intervene.

Applied to the table, this becomes three practical rules:

One change at a time. If you change the rubber, your backhand technique and your training time all at once, you’ll never know what worked.
With a reason. Every change needs a motive you can explain in one sentence.
With a deadline. Decide beforehand how long you’ll give the change — and don’t reassess before then.

And sometimes the best change is to stop doing something: stop berating yourself out loud, stop looking at the coach after every point, stop reading rubber forums every night.

Antifragile training: stress in the right dose

If hormesis says that small doses of stress make you stronger, training needs to have those doses — on purpose, controlled, with recovery afterwards. A few ideas I use:

Start the set behind. Play sets where the opponent already starts with a 3 or 4 point lead. You train exactly the situation that scares you most in competition.
Multiball with random placement. Instead of a predictable sequence, the feeder varies without warning: one or two balls in one spot, then another elsewhere. He decides the location; your brain learns to decide under uncertainty.
Look for the style you hate. Pips players, choppers, left-handers, blockers. If you avoid it, it becomes your Damocles.
Vary the conditions. A different table, a different hall, a different ball brand. The fragile depends on ideal conditions; the antifragile gets used to not having them.
Play points that count at the end of training, tired. A controlled dose of the fatigue you’ll feel in the fifth set.
Treat competition as a dose, not as a final exam. Every tournament is a stressor that brings information. The result matters, but what you learn from it matters more.

And remember: after the dose, recovery. Sleep, rest, hydrate, eat well. That’s where adaptation happens.

Waldner, Manchester, 1997

In my 2021 text, I said Jan-Ove Waldner had been “crushed” in the team event at the 1997 World Championships in Manchester, and then became champion in the singles. I researched it again for this rewrite — and the real story is even better.

A parenthesis: you’ve probably noticed I quote Waldner a lot — and there’s a reason. Table tennis is divided into before and after him. If you never saw him play, I can only feel sorry for you.

Waldner’s Sweden had been three-time world team champion in 1989, 1991 and 1993, and runner-up in 1995, losing the final to China. In Manchester, the campaign fell apart early: in the group stage, Sweden lost to Belgium, with Waldner beaten by Philippe Saive in the deciding game. In the quarterfinals, they fell to China — even with Waldner beating Kong Linghui. For the first time in years, Sweden went home without a team medal.

And it didn’t stop there: in the doubles final, Waldner and Jörgen Persson lost to Kong Linghui and Liu Guoliang in five games.

At 31, with all of that on his back, Waldner entered the singles tournament and did something that had never been done at a World Championships and probably never will be again: he became champion without losing a single game. In the final, he beat Belarusian Vladimir Samsonov 21-12, 21-17, 21-13. It was his second world singles title, eight years after the first, in Dortmund.

That is not a Phoenix, reborn the same. That is a Hydra. And all of Sweden seems to have learned the lesson: three years later, in 2000, it became world team champion again.

Almost three decades later, the China of 2026 repeated the script, only from the other side of the table: it lost to South Korea and to Sweden itself in the group stage, finished third in the group for the first time in the modern era — and left London as champion, with Liang Jingkun turning around a 3-8 deficit in the deciding game of the final against Tomokazu Harimoto. I told that story in detail in the post about the antifragile China.

But Auad, what about SpongeBob?

Remember that Bob is a sea sponge, not a kitchen one?

The kitchen sponge is resilient: you squeeze it, it returns to its shape. Until the day it tears — and then it goes in the trash.

The sea sponge is another story. Marine sponges are animals, and they are among the living beings with the greatest regeneration capacity on the planet. If a piece breaks off, that piece can become a new sponge — the farmers who grow sponges at sea do exactly that: they cut pieces and let them grow. In 1907, the American biologist H. V. Wilson ran a famous experiment: he pressed a sponge through a fine cloth, separating it into loose cells, and watched those cells regroup and form a sponge again.

Cut a sea sponge and you may end up with more sponges.

In other words: cut a sea sponge and you may end up with more sponges. That is Taleb’s Hydra, in real life, at the bottom of the sea.

And there’s one more detail I ignored in 2021: a sponge doesn’t just serve to return to its shape. A sponge absorbs. When it is squeezed, it lets go of what no longer serves — and gets ready to absorb again. That is exactly what the antifragile player does with every loss: squeezes, lets go of the frustration, the excuse and the blame on the edge, and absorbs what that match had to teach.

How about being a SpongeBob athlete — the real one, from the bottom of the sea? Or, if you prefer, a Hydra athlete: every loss cuts off a head, but what matters is how many grow back.

So, have you ever had a loss that you squeezed until you got a lesson out of it? Tell us in the comments — let’s swap ideas. I’ll read and answer every one.

The Antifragile China: From Chaos to the World Title

Sun, 10 May 2026 23:04:00 -0300

Analysis · 2026 World Championships

The antifragile thrives and grows when exposed to chaos, volatility and stress.

Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Antifragile

Nassim Nicholas Taleb spent years developing a concept that goes far beyond what most people call “resilience”. Being resilient means withstanding the shock and returning to the same state. Being antifragile is different: it means coming out of the shock stronger than you went in. The antifragile needs stress in order to improve.

At the 2026 World Table Tennis Team Championships, held at the OVO Arena Wembley in London, China’s men’s team gave the world a practical, unforgettable lesson in what it means to be antifragile. Two defeats in the group stage. A 26-year legacy thrown to the ground. And then: a dramatic semifinal against France, a dominant final against Japan, and the 24th world title in history.

This post tells that story, with all the real data, match by match.

TL;DR: China arrived in London with 26 years without a defeat in the tournament and lost twice in the group stage (South Korea and Sweden). It reacted with revenge on Korea, a comeback semifinal against France, in which Liang Jingkun came back from 0-2 down after a talk from coach Wang Hao, and a 3-0 over Japan for the 24th title. For the author, it is a real case of Taleb’s concept of antifragility: the team that needed the chaos to show what it is made of.

26years without a defeat in the tournament

83consecutive team matches without losing

262individual matches in that streak

24world titles in total

The unthinkable: the two group stage defeats

To understand the magnitude of what happened in London, you first have to understand the size of the myth that had to be torn down.

Since the final of the 2000 World Championships in Kuala Lumpur, when China lost to Sweden, the Chinese men’s team had built one of the most impressive streaks in the history of any team sport: 83 team matches without a defeat, involving 262 individual matches and only 13 sets lost in 26 years. Eleven consecutive world titles. An unbeaten run that felt more like a philosophy than a result.

In London, that myth died twice in two days.

1st defeat: China 1 × 3 South Korea (group stage)

The first blow came on Saturday, May 2. South Korea, with a bold strategy and a calculated team lineup, beat China 3-1, breaking a 26-year streak of Chinese wins in the tournament.

The most telling detail: the world No. 1 and reigning champion, Wang Chuqin, was rested. The Chinese delegation had underestimated the opponent. In his place came Zhou Qihao, 29 years old. South Korea took advantage and won with authority.

The reaction from the Chinese media and fans was immediate and brutal: questions about the team’s decline, about the quality of the squad, about the end of an era. In just 48 hours, what had been seen as the most dominant team in the history of table tennis became a question mark.

2nd defeat: China 2 × 3 Sweden (group stage)

If the first defeat was a shake, the second was an earthquake.

On Sunday, against Sweden, Wang Chuqin came back and was brilliant, winning both of his matches with authority:

Wang Chuqin (No. 1) 3×0 Anton Källberg (No. 33): 11-8, 11-5, 11-6
Wang Chuqin (No. 1) 3×0 Elias Ranefur (No. 70): 12-10, 11-6, 11-4

But it wasn’t enough. Sweden adopted a brilliant strategy: they entered Truls Möregårdh, world No. 2 and silver medalist at Paris 2024, as the team’s third player, avoiding a direct clash with Wang Chuqin. Möregårdh played only one match and sealed the deal:

Elias Ranefur (No. 70) 3×2 Lin Shidong (No. 6): 9-11, 6-11, 11-3, 11-6, 9-11
Anton Källberg (No. 33) 3×1 Lin Shidong (No. 6): 12-10, 10-12, 11-8, 11-8
Truls Möregårdh (No. 2) 3×2 Liang Jingkun (No. 21): 11-7, 9-11, 11-9, 3-11, 12-10

China finished third in Group 1. For the first time in its modern history, it did not finish in the top two of a group stage at the World Team Championships.

The WTT broadcast commentator spoke with the legendary Ma Long, considered the greatest table tennis player of all time, who had traveled to London to watch the matches. Asked about his presence, he simply answered:

I came to learn.

Ma Long

A sentence that summed up the moment of a nation.

The turnaround begins: the round of 16 and the quarterfinals

Before the semifinal, China had to get through two knockout rounds. And the signs of recovery began to appear.

In the round of 16, against Romania, China won 3-1, but not without scares. Romania’s Eduard Ionescu (No. 41 in the ranking) beat Liang Jingkun in straight sets, one more reminder that nothing was guaranteed. Wang Chuqin, unbeaten in the tournament, closed out the match.

In the quarterfinals, China met exactly the South Korea that had beaten it in the group stage, and this time delivered a categorical revenge: 3-0, in a match that lasted only 2 hours and 56 minutes. Wang Chuqin, Lin Shidong and Liang Jingkun all played. The message was sent.

China had secured its 32nd medal in 34 appearances in the history of the tournament. But the big story was still to come.

Semifinal against France: the night the myth was reborn

With Ma Long in the stands of Wembley Arena, China stepped up to the table on Saturday, May 9, to face France, the only unbeaten team in the men’s event up to that moment, which had knocked out Brazil in the quarterfinals 3-0 with a devastating performance from the Lebrun brothers and Flavien Coton.

What followed was the match that defined the spirit of the whole tournament.

Match 1 · semifinal

Wang ChuqinCHN · 1st

3×2

Flavien CotonFRA · 23rd

Wang Chuqin came in as the absolute favorite. Coton, just 18 years old, a former world cadet champion, wanted none of it. The Frenchman played fearlessly, pushing Wang to the limit. In the first set, Coton gave nothing away: Wang had to get to 15-13 just to win the opener. France turned it around in sets 2 and 3. Wang reacted, but needed a deciding set to confirm the win. Wang remained unbeaten, but had been taken to a fifth set for the first time in the tournament.

Match 2 · semifinal

Lin ShidongCHN · 6th

0×3

Félix LebrunFRA · 4th

Félix Lebrun, 19 years old, Olympic bronze medalist at Paris 2024 and world No. 4, was relentless. With his sharp counter-attacking game, he dominated Lin Shidong in 3 straight sets. Team match tied.

Match 3 · semifinal⚡ The turnaround match

Liang JingkunCHN · 21st

3×2

Alexis LebrunFRA · 12th

This was the heart of the semifinal. And probably one of the most dramatic moments in team table tennis in years.

Alexis Lebrun, 22 years old, European champion and world No. 12, dominated the first two sets in crushing fashion, conceding only 4 points in total. Liang Jingkun looked finished. China was on the edge of the cliff.

That was when the team’s coach, Wang Hao, himself a three-time individual world champion, stepped in during the break between the second and third sets with words that mixed technique and mental release. The talk was caught by the WTT cameras:

🎙️ Wang Hao, China's coach, during the timeout

“On the serve receive, you have to have the attitude of going firmly into the ball, of taking his serve on head-on. Don’t overthink things, take the weight off your head.

If you go on the attack, go all in. After you flick the receive, stay very sharp. If you open the rally with the flick, he’s going to block quickly in your direction, so you have to be ready to defend or counter-attack that ball coming back.

There’s no room to count on luck now, there’s no free ball.

Play as if you’ve already lost, go all or nothing. Let your arm go without fear of missing! Value every chance you get on the table. Believe in your game, you can turn this around. Let’s go!”

It was, at the same time, a precise technical instruction and an act of psychological release. The key was in the central sentence: “play as if you’ve already lost.” Taleb would call this removing the downside: when there is nothing left to lose, fear disappears and the player can act with total conviction.

And that is exactly what Liang did. The third set went to 15-13 in Liang’s favor. In the fourth, he opened 10-3; Alexis fought back and tied it at 10-10. Liang closed it out. In the fifth set, it was quickly 9-2, and he finished it at 11-2.

Wembley Arena exploded.

Match 4 · semifinal

Wang ChuqinCHN · 1st

3×1

Félix LebrunFRA · 4th

With China ahead and Liang Jingkun having rekindled the team’s flame, Wang Chuqin returned to face the best French player in a classic of world table tennis. The rallies were of a high level from the start. But Wang, energized by Liang’s reaction, grew progressively and closed it out in four sets.

What Liang showed tonight moved me. Seeing him fight back from that position made me believe more when I went back to the table.

Wang Chuqin

Final against Japan: the 24th title and the 12th in a row

In the final on Sunday, May 10, in front of more than 7,000 spectators in a packed Wembley Arena, China faced Japan, which had reached its first men’s World Team Championships final since 2016, after beating Chinese Taipei 3-0 in the semifinal.

It was the seventh time the two countries had met in a men’s final in this tournament. China had won all six previous ones. This time, the story was different from what many expected, not because of the margin, but because of the protagonists.

Match 1 · final⚡ Another epic comeback

Liang JingkunCHN

3×2

Harimoto TomokazuJPN · 3rd

Sets: 8-11 / 4-11 / 11-9 / 13-11 / 11-8 (comeback from 3-8 in the decisive set)

Harimoto, 22 years old and world No. 3, won the first two sets. In the fourth, he had match point. It looked as if the semifinal comeback had been an isolated flash.

But Liang Jingkun, the man who had risen from the dead in the semifinal, was not willing to die again. In the decisive break, Wang Hao gave the instruction and calibrated without stirring things up:

🎙️ Wang Hao, China's coach, in the deciding set

“Keep exactly this rhythm. Overall, there’s no need to rush and speed up the game.

When you attack, pull the ball more toward the middle of his side of the table, got it? Go a bit more measured and focus there in the middle.

If you use the forehand, play heavy, right in the middle of him. If it’s the backhand, since he steps up to the table, turn the ball to the other side.

Very good. That’s it, total focus now. One point at a time. Hold his game. You don’t need to try to force impossible balls, just pin him down.

In this final stretch, you have to believe in yourself. If you go on the attack and sink your teeth into the game, he’s the one who will get desperate and panic. Okay? Go.”

Where before Wang Hao had freed Liang from fear, now he rebalanced him: control, patience, faith. Two timeouts. Two completely different registers. One same principle: put the player in the right mental state for the moment.

Liang Jingkun listened. He came back from 3-8 in the deciding set. He closed it out at 8-11, 4-11, 11-9, 13-11, 11-8.

Two matches in a row. Two epic comebacks. One same man.

Match 2 · final

Wang ChuqinCHN · 1st

3×1

Matsushima SoraJPN · 8th

Sets: 8-11 / 12-10 / 11-2 / 11-9

Wang Chuqin maintained the solidity and leadership he had shown throughout the tournament. He lost the first set to the talented young Matsushima, but responded with authority in the next three. Wang finished the tournament unbeaten in every individual match he played, a historic performance.

Match 3 · final🏆 The title

Lin ShidongCHN · 6th

3×1

Togami ShunsukeJPN · 18th

Sets: 11-9 / 11-5 / 7-11 / 11-9

Lin Shidong had been China’s most inconsistent player in the tournament: he had lost four matches, including to the Swedes Ranefur and Källberg in the group stage. He was the big unknown of the Chinese team.

In the final, when it was time to close out the championship, he was the one who sealed the conquest. China is a twelve-time consecutive world champion (12x), with 24 titles in total, double Hungary, the second-biggest winner in history with 12.

The organizers raised the Swaythling Cup. Ma Long smiled in the stands.

The parallel with antifragility: why this is more than sport

Taleb describes three categories of systems: the fragile, which breaks under pressure; the robust, which resists without changing; and the antifragile, which gets stronger with chaos. China’s men’s team in London 2026 was a perfect case study.

Principle 1 · defeats as a stimulus

When a team that went 26 years unbeaten loses twice in two days, the natural response would be panic and a defensive reorganization. China did the opposite: it used the defeats as information. It identified vulnerabilities (Lin Shidong inconsistent, Liang Jingkun in poor form) and exposed those players to the fire of competition, instead of protecting them.

Principle 2 · individual stress, collective strength

Liang Jingkun lost matches against South Korea, Sweden and Romania. On any fragile team, he would have been rested. On China, he was picked for the most important match of the tournament, and responded with a comeback that defined the championship. The accumulated stress converted into extraordinary performance exactly when it mattered most.

Principle 3 · the psychology of legends

Ma Long “came to learn”. Xu Xin was in the stands. Coach Wang Hao freed Liang from fear with the paradox “play as if you’ve already lost” and then, in the final, rebalanced him with tactical calm: “one point at a time, don’t try to force it”. Two timeouts, two completely different registers for the same player in different situations. Accepting defeat removes the pressure of avoiding it and allows you to act with total conviction.

Principle 4 · the system is bigger than the parts

Lin Shidong, the player with the most defeats in the tournament, closed out the championship. Liang Jingkun, the one who suffered the most, was the hero of the semifinal. Wang Chuqin, the most brilliant, was the anchor and finished unbeaten. None of them, alone, tells the complete story. The team was the system. Taleb writes that antifragile systems need skin in the game (real exposure to the consequences). China had that in London.

The difference between dominating and winning

There is a difference between a team that dominates because the others are weak and a team that wins because it is, structurally, capable of growing under pressure.

During 26 years of being unbeaten, China piled up titles with relative ease. In London 2026, for the first time in decades, China was forced to find out what it is made of when the comfortable scenario disappears.

The answer was the clearest demonstration of antifragility that team table tennis has ever seen.

They did not survive the chaos. They needed it.

Now I want to hear from you: what did you think of this final? Would you have bet on China to win the title after the group stage defeats? What did you think of Liang Jingkun? And of Wang Hao’s talks during the timeouts? Tell me everything in the comments, I’ll love reading it!

Who Is the GOAT of Table Tennis? 100 Years of History and Magic

Mon, 27 Apr 2026 20:02:00 -0300

The ITTF has just released an epic documentary (video above) celebrating the centenary of our sport (1926-2026). It is 40 minutes of pure history, but since the video is in English, I made a point of dissecting every detail to bring you what really matters. This is not just a retrospective; it is the story of the revolutions that shaped the racket you hold today.

TL;DR: the ITTF documentary tells how the game was born in British basements, was turned upside down by Hiroji Sato’s sponge, saw the Swedish miracle and the Chinese symphony, and ends with Hugo Calderano’s 2025 World Cup. At the end, the coach picks his GOATs: Deng Yaping, Waldner and Ma Long.

Tip

The video is in English. While watching, turn on the automatically generated captions in English and, if you want, set up the automatic translation into your own language, so you can follow along with subtitles you read easily.

The beginning: when rackets were corks

Did you know that table tennis started out as Whiff-Waff in British clubs? In the late 19th century, it was an elite after-dinner pastime. It was only in 1926 that the ITTF was founded in London. Back then, Hungary dominated everything. The legendary Victor Barna, with his surreal 41 medals at world championships, was the face of the sport.

The game changed its name, its table and its rules, but its competitive essence was born in London basements and conquered the planet.

The sponge revolution and the end of “Marty Supreme”

The documentary highlights a painful break in 1952. Until then, the American Marty Reisman, “Marty Supreme”, was the king of hardbat. Everything changed when the Japanese player Hiroji Sato showed up with a thick, soft sponge. Sato didn’t make the classic sound of impact; the ball came out silent, but with a spin and speed that Reisman couldn’t read. It was the beginning of modern table tennis.

Sweden: the miracle and the Glenn Östh orchestra

Many say that Jan-Ove Waldner faced China alone, but the documentary and history prove he was the sun of a flawless constellation. Under the strategic command of Glenn Östh, Sweden built the greatest challenge the “Wall” has ever faced:

Jan-Ove Waldner (the Mozart): the first man to complete the Grand Slam. He won Olympic gold in Barcelona (1992) and was a two-time singles world champion (1989 and 1997). The video highlights his absurd feat in Manchester in 1997, where he was world champion without losing a single set, 21 to 0 overall.
Jörgen Persson: the pillar of consistency. Singles world champion in Chiba (1991), Persson was Waldner’s ideal partner, reaching historic finals and keeping Sweden on top for almost two decades.
Mikael Appelgren: the master of control and counter-attack. He was a three-time European singles champion and a world doubles champion. His left hand was the Chinese players’ nightmare, and it was fundamental in the team victories.
Team dominance: Sweden didn’t just win, it dominated. There were four team world titles (1989, 1991, 1993 and the historic return in 2000). The documentary reverently recalls the 5-0 over China in the Dortmund final in 1989, a score that shocked the planet.

Names like Erik Lind and Peter Karlsson rounded out this team of legends, proving that the Swedish miracle was, above all, a triumph of teamwork and tactical intelligence.

China: the unbroken symphony

Since 1996, China has won almost 90% of all world titles available. The documentary details how this hegemony was built through legends who shaped the modern game:

The women’s dynasty: the video pays tribute to the era of Deng Yaping (the first great sovereign), followed by Wang Nan and the “invincible” Zhang Yining, who retired at the peak as Olympic and world champion.
The tactical architects: the transition to modern table tennis went through the hands of Liu Guoliang (master of the short pips and of the serve) and Kong Linghui, the first to unify the major titles.
The golden trio: the documentary highlights the era of Wang Liqin (the giant of physical power), Ma Lin (the master of touch and of the classic penhold style) and Wang Hao, the man who revolutionized the reverse penhold backhand (RPB) and was the direct mentor of the next generation.
The modern phenomena: you can’t talk about history without mentioning Zhang Jike, the “mad dog”, who holds the record for the fastest Grand Slam in history (445 days), and his immediate successor Fan Zhendong, who consolidated his greatness by inheriting the world throne with impeccable technique.
The captain: and, at the center of it all, Ma Long. The video crowns him as the only man to win the double Grand Slam, defining what it means to be perfection on two legs.

The video points out that the Austrian Werner Schlager, in 2003, was the last non-Chinese player to win the men’s singles world title, a reminder of how relentless the Chinese training system is.

Brazil: Hugo Calderano and the future

The climax for us Brazilians is seeing the spotlight given to Hugo Calderano. The documentary celebrates Hugo as the great force that changed the balance of the sport in the WTT era.

Hugo’s title at the 2025 World Cup is cited as the milestone when the world realized that Chinese hegemony has real cracks. Brazil is no longer just a participant; we are protagonists in the ITTF’s hundred-year history.

The verdict from the coach: who is your GOAT?

Note

GOAT is an acronym for “Greatest of All Time”.

After 100 years of evolution, who are the greatest of all time? Here is my pick:

🏆 Women: for me, it’s Deng Yaping. Her aggressiveness and mindset were from another planet. She didn’t just win; she dominated her opponents’ souls.
🌍 Men (Earth): Jan-Ove Waldner was the greatest of all time on Planet Earth. His creativity and his “feeling” were human, yet brilliant.
🌌 Men (Galaxy): Ma Long… well, Ma Long is the greatest of all time in the Galaxy. That guy is not human. He is an efficiency machine built by aliens.

The video mentioned Victor Barna, Angelica Rozeanu, Waldner, Deng Yaping, Ma Long, Hugo Calderano and so many others. Who gets the GOAT title for you? Is there any other name the video forgot?

Now I want to hear from you: who is your GOAT? Leave your comment below, let’s debate these 100 years of passion!

Sun Yingsha: Character Matters More Than Victory (The World Cup Gesture)

Sat, 06 Dec 2025 17:20:00 -0300

In table tennis, we often get lost in technical analysis: the speed of the forehand, the precision of the backhand, the spin on the serve. China, with its overwhelming dominance, is the gold standard of that technical excellence. But recently, the world number 1, Sun Yingsha, reminded us that an athlete’s true greatness goes far beyond the scoreboard.

During the 2025 ITTF Mixed Team World Cup, in Chengdu, she was at the center of a moment that has already gone down in the history of fair play, proving that her sportsmanship is as flawless as her game.

The gesture that silenced the arena (and won over the world)

The scene was one of high tension: a decisive match against Germany. During a hard-fought point against Nina Mittelham, that classic situation every table tennis player knows came up: the doubt about the “let” (the ball touching the net) on the serve.

The video review system (TTR) was called in. In the footage shown on the big screen, it was clear that the ball had touched the net. But, through a startling failure of communication or interpretation, the officials made the wrong call: they validated the serve and awarded the point to Sun Yingsha.

At that moment, 99% of professional athletes would have accepted the “gift”. After all, the official decision had already gone in their favor. But Sun Yingsha did the unexpected. Even with the point secured by the umpire, she refused to win through a mistake.

With absolute integrity, she voluntarily corrected the officials, signaling that the ball had indeed touched the net and that the point should be replayed. She turned down the unfair advantage and put the truth of the game first.

That gesture resonated around the world. In an environment of absurd pressure like the Chinese National Team (‘Guo Ping’), having the mental clarity to correct an official error against yourself is the ultimate proof of character. As the international media pointed out: “what makes her respected is not just the number of titles, but her exemplary conduct”.

Nobility recognized: athlete of the year

It is no coincidence that, right after showing such class, Sun Yingsha received another huge recognition away from the tables. She was the only Chinese athlete nominated for the prestigious 2025 Female Athlete of the Year award by the International Sports Press Association (AIPS).

That nomination places her alongside the greatest legends of every sport. It crowns a season in which Sun Yingsha not only achieved the “double Grand Slam” (winning everything in singles and doubles), but also earned the unanimous respect of opponents and fans.

The 360TT lesson

For those of us who live table tennis, the lesson is clear. Our sport is fast and aggressive, but above all it is a game of honor and gentlemanly conduct. Sun Yingsha’s attitude teaches us that winning is important, but how you win defines who you are.

If the world number 1 was able to correct an umpire so she would not win an unfair point, we can also bring that spirit of honesty to our training sessions and club tournaments.

Sun Yingsha proved that it is possible to be the best in the world and, at the same time, the most noble.

Now I want to hear from you: would you have the courage to give back a point the umpire has already given you? Tell us in the comments!