The way Wang Chuqin plays, ping-pong is a physical impossibility. By the time you made it to the end of the first two words of that sentence, Chuqin, the men’s world No 1, has seen the ball, calculated its speed, direction, and height, judged whether it is travelling with topspin, backspin, left or right sidespin, or a combination of the four, decided how to return, forehand, backhand, attack, block, push, spin, and where to aim, shifted his weight, positioned his feet, rotated his hips, brought his racket into position, and hit the ball. By the time you got to that first full stop, he has done it all 12 times over.
You almost certainly didn’t know it, but Thursday was world table-tennis day. The England Federation set up a trail of golden tables around London to mark the occasion, and raise a little publicity for the World Team Table Tennis Championships, that are being held in the city for the first time since 1954. During a sunny lunch hour outside Temple Bar, underneath the walls of St Paul’s, city workers are playing during their break, pick-pock, pick-pock, and in among all the noise of the city there’s that familiar rat-a-tat-tat of a runaway ball skipping away from the table into some far corner while the players scurry after it.
