I hope wholeheartedly that badminton will be as popular and

The words of Lin Dan — “I hope wholeheartedly that badminton will be as popular and respected as tennis one day.” — rise like a quiet prayer from the heart of a warrior who has given his life to his art. They are not merely a wish for fame, but a call for recognition, for dignity, for the world to see the beauty and discipline within a craft that has too long stood in another’s shadow. In these few words, the great Chinese champion, often called “Super Dan,” reveals both the humility and the pride of one who knows his labor is noble, even if the world has not yet seen it as such. His statement is a hymn to perseverance, to passion unacknowledged, and to the eternal struggle of every art form, every discipline, to be understood and valued in its truest light.

To grasp the spirit of this quote, one must first understand the man and the world he represents. Lin Dan is more than an athlete — he is the embodiment of mastery. His name echoes across the courts of the world as the greatest badminton player of his age, a two-time Olympic champion and five-time world champion. Yet even he, with all his triumphs, has felt the sting of comparison — the knowledge that his sport, beloved by millions across Asia, remains overshadowed by others more glorified in the West. When he speaks of his hope for badminton to stand beside tennis, he is voicing not envy, but a yearning for fairness — that all arts born of sweat, skill, and sacrifice should be honored equally in the eyes of mankind.

In his words, there lies a timeless truth: that every craft carries its own kind of greatness, though the world may not always see it. The ancient sculptor who carved marble in obscurity, the poet who wrote in poverty, the monk who painted manuscripts for no audience but the divine — each labored with faith that their work was worthy. Lin Dan stands among them in spirit. He does not ask for adoration, only for respect — the recognition that badminton, with its grace, precision, and ferocity, demands no less of body and soul than any celebrated sport or art. His hope, therefore, is not merely personal; it is universal. It speaks for all who work in the quieter corners of excellence, where mastery is measured not by fame, but by devotion.

History, too, is filled with examples of such longing. Consider Vincent van Gogh, who painted light itself but died in darkness, uncelebrated. Or the composer Johann Sebastian Bach, whose divine music was forgotten for a century before being rediscovered as the foundation of Western harmony. Their greatness did not depend on the applause of their age; it was the future that recognized them. So it is with Lin Dan’s dream. He stands as both artist and prophet, believing that time and truth will lift badminton to its rightful place among the revered pursuits of humanity. For greatness, though delayed in its recognition, cannot remain hidden forever.

There is also in Lin Dan’s hope a lesson about cultural humility and unity. His words remind us that no nation, no culture, no game, holds a monopoly on greatness. Just as the East once looked to the West with admiration, so too now the world looks East, recognizing the artistry of disciplines once dismissed as lesser. The rise of badminton, table tennis, martial arts, and eSports — each in their way — testifies to the truth that passion and precision transcend borders. When Lin Dan speaks of badminton being “as respected as tennis,” he is not asking for imitation, but for balance — for a world that celebrates the diversity of human achievement.

In these words, there is also a challenge to the listener. Lin Dan’s statement asks us: What do you value? Do you honor only what the world calls great, or do you have the vision to see excellence in its many forms? The ancient sages taught that respect is the measure of wisdom, for the wise man sees worth in all honest labor. The farmer who tends his fields, the craftsman who shapes his tools, the artist who perfects a gesture — all are kindred spirits in the pursuit of perfection. To respect one form of mastery is to respect them all. To deny that respect is to blind oneself to the fullness of human potential.

Thus, the lesson of Lin Dan’s words is clear: dignity is not given by others; it is created through devotion. If the world does not yet recognize your art, your work, or your passion, do not despair. Continue as Lin Dan did — with faith, discipline, and fire. For every field of endeavor, no matter how humble, can become a temple of greatness when pursued with sincerity. Recognition may come slowly, but truth moves like the dawn — inevitable and radiant.

So let these words be carried forward, as a teaching to all who labor unseen: “I hope wholeheartedly that badminton will be as popular and respected as tennis one day.” Hope not for the world’s approval, but for the endurance to make the world see what you already know — that your work has worth. For when one stands before their craft with reverence, when one gives everything for love of what they do, they have already won. And one day, as Lin Dan believed, the world will open its eyes — and the once-overlooked art will shine like the morning sun.