It is hard to compete with other sports. Badminton is a sport

Hear, O seekers of perseverance and truth, the words of Lin Dan, the two-time Olympic champion, the warrior of the shuttle and the net: “It is hard to compete with other sports. Badminton is a sport which, when compared with football and tennis, still needs promotion.” Though spoken with humility, these words carry the weight of centuries. They reveal not only the struggle of one game against the giants of global attention, but also the eternal plight of all who labor in fields unrecognized, striving to raise their craft to its rightful place in the hearts of men.

For what is badminton, if not a dance of speed and precision, a contest where the feathered shuttle moves faster than the eye can follow, where reflex and will are tested in every strike? And yet, compared with the grand arenas of football and the elegance of tennis, its stage is smaller, its spotlight dimmer. Lin Dan, though crowned with gold, knew that glory in badminton still required defense and advocacy, for the world’s gaze is often drawn not to merit but to popularity. Thus he speaks not for himself, but for the sport he loves, calling the world to recognize its hidden majesty.

This struggle is not new. In ancient Greece, certain contests—running, wrestling, the discus—were celebrated, while others, though demanding equal skill, remained in shadow. The pancratium, brutal and fierce, drew the crowds, while subtler arts faded unpraised. Yet those who mastered the lesser-celebrated disciplines still carried honor within themselves, for they knew that true excellence does not always shine in the public square. Lin Dan’s lament echoes this truth: that fame is not the same as greatness, and yet promotion is needed if greatness is to endure.

Consider also the story of baseball in its earliest years. It was once dismissed as a mere pastime, a game for idle gatherings. Yet through persistence, through promotion, through the labor of players and fans alike, it rose to become America’s pastime, woven into the very fabric of a nation’s identity. So too may badminton, with champions such as Lin Dan as its heralds, one day rise from the corners of recognition to take its place among the great games of the world.

The wisdom of Lin Dan’s words is this: even the most noble pursuit must sometimes be championed, lest it be forgotten. Talent alone does not guarantee immortality; it must be joined with voice, with advocacy, with the effort to call others to see what is overlooked. The hero’s role is not only to play, but to bear the banner of his craft, to fight not only opponents across the net but also obscurity itself. In this, Lin Dan becomes not only a champion of matches, but a guardian of his sport’s future.

And yet, his words carry also a message for all who labor in quiet places. Perhaps your work, your art, your passion is not celebrated as widely as others. Perhaps you strive in fields where recognition is scarce. Do not despair. For if the pursuit is worthy, then it is your duty to promote, to persist, to bear witness to its value. Fame may be delayed, but honor is not absent. By your voice and by your persistence, you may lift what you love into the light.

Therefore, O children of tomorrow, take this teaching: never measure worth solely by the crowd’s applause. Know that some crafts, some callings, require more than excellence—they require advocacy. If you believe in the value of your work, speak for it. If you love your passion, raise it high. For even in the shadow of giants like football and tennis, the swift beauty of badminton endures, awaiting its place in the sun. And so too may your own hidden craft, if you fight for it as Lin Dan fought for his.

Thus let his words echo across generations: the battle for recognition is as noble as the battle on the court. Play with excellence, but also speak with courage. For only then will the world see what is hidden, and only then will the forgotten be remembered.