First published by World Squash here
In the humid warmth of Chengdu earlier this summer, amid the noise of marching bands and the shimmer of new glass courts, something quietly significant took place for the future of squash - The World Games.
It was not just a tournament; it was a glimpse into what squash’s future may look like.
When eighteen-year-old Liu Ziyi lost the first game of her encounter against Australia’s Emily Lamb, it looked to be the same old story; Chinese representation that lacked any quality. But Ziyi’s expression was calm, almost serene — that inscrutable composure that Chinese athletes seem to carry like armour - and she responded to level the match 2-2.
Down 3–0 in the deciding game, she summoned a surge of fight that belied her youth — winning eight points in a row to claim China’s first-ever squash victory at a global multi-sport event, a significant milestone in the development of talent in the country.
“It was a moment that showed us what is possible,” said Wang Ding, Secretary General of the Chinese Squash Association.
“The players embodied the spiritual outlook of contemporary Chinese youth — patriotic, tenacious, never yielding. The world could see the potential of Chinese squash while ur domestic audience were able to enhance their sense of identification with this sport.”
That victory — modest in the grand scheme of world sport — may, in time, be remembered as the moment a nation began to stir.
For two decades, squash in China has existed in the shadows of its racket-sport cousins. Badminton, table tennis and tennis dominate playgrounds, parks and television screens. Squash has been a niche pursuit played mostly in university basements or private clubs.
But the sport’s inclusion in the Olympic Games for Los Angeles 2028 has changed everything. A door has opened — and, as history has shown, once China sets its sights on Olympic success, it rarely misses.
“Inclusion in LA28 has brought enormous momentum,” said Wang Ding. “We are developing squash from multiple dimensions — building venues, cultivating young talents, improving the competition system, and preparing the national team.”
What was once a curiosity has become a project of national interest. The World Games in Chengdu provided the perfect platform: 11 Chinese players, 500 courts across the country, and an infrastructure growing by 10 per cent each year.
But beneath the numbers lies something more profound — belief.
At the Chengdu Sports Centre, the crowd cheered for players few had ever seen before. Thirteen-year-old Yin Ziyuan, the youngest of the team, had only just won the Asian Junior U13 title in South Korea when she found herself facing Japan’s world No.6, Satomi Watanabe. She lost heavily, but the sight of a Chinese child competing with one of the world’s best felt like a promise.
“Her performance showed strong potential,” said Wang. “She is a key talent we are focused on developing. She has trained for five years already and possesses excellent technical skills and physical fitness.”
There was something almost poetic about seeing a teenager from Sichuan Province exchanging shots with one of Japan’s finest. For decades, it was China that looked enviously across its borders at the elite infrastructure of other Asian nations — the Malaysian academies, the Egyptian dynasties.
Now, with a government blueprint, a manufacturing base capable of producing WSF-certified glass courts, and an Olympic horizon to aim for, the balance of power could yet shift eastward once again.
Last year the Chinese Squash Association selected a group of 16-to 18-year-old former tennis and badminton players to transition into squash - they now spend hours a day learning how to master the game. Their footwork is nimble, their reflexes sharp, their curiosity boundless. Transitioning from one sport to another is not easy, but China has never feared the long game.
“They have adapted rapidly,” said Wang. “After one year of training, they are already achieving good results in domestic competitions.”
The Chinese Squash Association has also established a Junior Ranking System to encourage participation and identify talent early.
For all the state planning and statistics, the story of Chinese squash remains, for now, a story of human will. Of Liu’s comeback. Of Yin’s bravery. Of a federation quietly learning the rhythms of an international sport — how to lose, how to learn, how to aspire.
The challenge is immense. China has yet to produce a player capable of reaching the world’s top 50, let alone challenging the Egyptian or English powerhouses. The sport’s cultural roots are shallow, and facilities, though expanding fast, are still dwarfed by the thousands of badminton halls and table tennis clubs that dot the nation.
And yet, if you look closely, you can already sense the outlines of what might come.
