It’s been nearly nine years since the “Linsanity” Era, a roughly one-month stint of exceptionalism that led to one of the greatest underdog stories in sports. At the time, 11-year-old me was already somewhat invested in the New York Knicks. They had an exciting roster with the greatest basketball talent that has ever come out of Syracuse University (my hometown college), Carmelo Anthony, leading an exciting Knicks franchise.
However, I knew about Jeremy Lin even before “Linsanity.” He was in 2K11 (an NBA video game) when he played for the Golden State Warriors briefly, which is still my favorite 2K game to this day. Lin was also making NBA vlogs and comedy skits, sometimes collaborating with other Asian American Youtubers like Ryan Higa, whom I watched regularly.
As I was sitting in my living room with my three little dogs watching basketball highlights from that evening on ESPN, there was this “random” Knicks bench player that single-handedly ended the Knicks’ 13-game losing streak, scoring 25 points and getting 7 assists. He was this skinny, slightly undersized, Taiwanese American and I immediately recognized him as the Jeremy Lin from the silly Youtube videos. It was shocking that he was playing phenomenally against NBA All-Stars like Gordon Hayward, DeMar Derozan, and of course the late Great Kobe Bryant. Lin scored a total of 114 points in his first four games as an NBA starter (he came off the bench until this stint with the Knicks). This is the greatest start any NBA player has ever experienced scoring-wise. It beats the likes of Lebron James, Allen Iverson, and Michael Jordan. He was also the first Asian American to ever win an NBA Championship in 2019 with the Toronto Raptors. Unfortunately, he was never really given the chance to become the star many analysts thought he was destined to become, as he suffered injuries that halted his career time and time again.
Even my Senator, Chuck Schumer, got in on the #Linsanity hype!
Growing up, I became captivated by basketball because it was the first time I saw Asian men excelling in something so quintessentially "American." Being raised by a single mother with help from my five aunts, it was especially impactful seeing an Asian American man succeed in sports. For that, I credit my passion for sports to both Jeremy Lin—and Yao Ming.
Even though I couldn’t speak English for the majority of Yao Ming’s short-lived career, I was infatuated by how he defied the stereotype that Asians are short and unathletic. I won’t try to lie, I wasn’t even watching Yao Ming when he played, but his mere presence was enough to win me over. I was a short five- or six-year-old at the time, and it was nice to know that there was an All-Star caliber Chinese athlete that was 7-foot 6-inch. The doctors predicted that I would stop growing once I hit 5-foot-6-inch, a full two feet shorter than Yao, so his stature gave me some hope.
Despite prevailing against all odds and enduring a never-ending fight to be recognized for his accomplishment by his peers, coaches, and fans, Jeremy Lin wasn’t the first to experience this challenge. I first learned about Wataru Misaka, a 5-foot-7-inch point guard from Ogden, Utah (of all places) when there was a brief segment on NBA TV about him and Jeremy Lin meeting during a Utah Jazz game. Wataru Misaka or “Wat” for short, became the first non-white professional basketball player in 1947 when he was drafted into the Basketball Association of America (BBA) by the New York Knicks. This was also the same year Jackie Robinson became the first non-white player in Major League Baseball! The first Black professional basketball players, Earl Loyd, Chuck Cooper, and Nat Clifton would join the NBA three years later. Shortly after Misaka won the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship in 1944, with the University of Utah, he was drafted by the U.S. Army. Misaka became an interpreter in the Pacific Theater for the rest of World War II, working on research for the US Army about how the bombing raids impacted the Japanese civilians' morale with the famous 442nd Infantry Regiment, a unit composed primarily of Japanese Americans. Following the end of the War, he was stationed in Hiroshima where he still had some family; he remembers visiting his uncle who was living just outside of the atomic bomb’s blast zone at the time.
After his military service, in 1947, he went back to the University of Utah to win another basketball championship, the National Invitational Tournament (NIT). Later that year, the Knicks drafted him with a starting annual salary of $4,000. He only played three-season games before the Knicks released him for unknown reasons, despite averaging respectable numbers during the pre-season and being the first overall pick in his draft class. To this day, he remains to be the only Asian American selected for the top 10 in an NBA draft. He was able to keep the $4,000, and he actually went back to school to become an engineer. He spent the rest of his life back in Utah, became a semi-competitive bowler, and organized various sports leagues for Asian Americans in his community.
“New Yorkers like to root for the little guy, the underdog—just seeing a little guy running around, making things a little harder for the big guys. I think they kind of enjoyed that.”
During his short run as a professional basketball player and two-time national champion on the collegiate level, Misaka rarely talked about the racism he faced when he was playing, out of fear of the potential public backlash. However, later on in interviews, he recounts his experience as a Japanese American during and after the attack on Pearl Harbor. He was playing basketball in states that were putting hundreds and thousands of Japanese Americans into internment camps based on their Japanese heritage.
“It was a real strange experience to be, you know, free—not without prejudice, but free—and playing the game I loved in my home state, while others were being treated like criminals”
Opposing, fans, players, and coaches would yell racial slurs, including “Kill the Jap!” at him during high school and even into his short professional career. When asked in an interview, “Why do you think the Knicks released you?” he simply said with a smile, “They had too many guards,” but many believe that his race was a large factor for this decision too. In Japanese philosophy, “gamon” (我慢), the idea that one should persevere and remain calm during unbearable situations, is something Misaka showed throughout all of life’s challenges. The incredible resilience he displayed, on and off the court, is the reason why we all fall in love with sports in the first place.
"We grew up with prejudice…That’s just how it was."
Jeremy Lin has also talked about the racism he faced, both privately and publicly, throughout his basketball career.
Being called a “chink” in college by opponents during games
The MSG network (Knicks TV channel) airing an offensive poster with Lin’s face in a fortune cookie with the slogan “The Knicks Good Fortune”
ESPN using the title “Chink in the armor,” not once, but twice for a headline after the Knicks lost a game during Linsanity
It’s true, Yao Ming also received many racist shots and microaggressions. Shaquille O’Neal said, “Tell Yao Ming, ching chong yang wah soh” (this is not Mandarin or any other dialect by the way) and then “apologized” by saying “It’s joke, not racist” in a stereotypical Chinese accent on a sports talk show. Yao Ming’s humorous, yet stoic response was, “Chinese is hard to learn. I had trouble with it when I was little.” The NBA also handed out fortune cookies (which aren't even of Chinese origin) in “honor” of Yao Ming at a Celtics vs. Rockets basketball game.
However, Jeremy Lin was a pioneer of sorts. He was the first Asian American to be a prominent figure in the NBA in recent memory, but many failed to see the American side of him, which is almost parallel to what happened to Misaka and many other Asian American athletes. This goes back to the “perpetual foreignness” many Asian Americans experience: the feeling of being an outsider in the country one grew up in. Asian Americans and many other groups are often whittled down to these broad, shallow social labels, ignoring the true depth of our personal narratives.
“I am forced to admit that I am, to them, nothing but a series of destinations with no meaningful expanses in between.”
— Monique Truong
The Book of Salt
It’s been nine years since an unforgettable moment in sports history and seventy-four years since “Wat” joined the NBA. A lot has happened in the sports world since then. Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) athletes like Chloe Kim, Tua Tagovailoa, Nathan Chen, and Taylor Rapp have all become talents in their respective sports, inspiring the next generation of athletes and becoming prominent figures in our community. While sports are just a game at the end of the day, the Asian American athlete’s experience aligns with the shared Asian American experience—one that has always demanded us to prove ourselves as equals in the political and social atmosphere despite struggling to accept and define us.
To further decolonize our minds:
Japanese American Military History Collective | Wataru Misaka Oral History Interviews (Video)
Color Lines | The Subtle Bigotry That Made Jeremy Lin the NBA's Most Surprising Star (Video)
NBC NEWS | Jeremy Lin on Maintaining Asian American Pride during Coronavirus Racism
Professor C. Richard King | Asian Americans in Sports and Society (Book)
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Love the piece!
Wow, I had no idea who Wat was, such a shame he's left out of the history books. It's also crazy to think about how ESPN and other networks ran those headlines 2012, and I never noticed or batted an eye. Thanks for dropping this knowledge and perspective!