About fzdhero.com

The first time I truly started watching table tennis was around the turn of the millennium, during a China–Sweden match. That year, the image of Kong Linghui kissing the national flag on his chest after the match lodged itself in my memory like a quiet nail—and never really came loose.

It was not just another match. It was the first time I realized— that a single moment from an athlete can stay with someone for a very long time, and quietly become something that supports you later, without you even noticing.

For many years after that, I kept watching matches. Not for wins or losses, and not for statistics, but because certain images resurface when you feel lost, exhausted, or at the bottom— reminding you that someone, when things were even harder, did not step back.

In 2013, fan zhendong made his debut. From that year on, I watched almost his entire journey.

He was highly expected, and repeatedly studied; he won a lot, and also fell at the most critical moments. For a while, it felt like the whole world was asking what he was “missing.”

But he did not disappear. He simply returned to the table again and again, realigning his body, his technique, and his mindset.

For me, watching his matches was never just about watching matches. At certain low points in my own life— when I felt lost, uncertain, or unsure where to go next— I would replay his matches over and over.

Not for technical analysis, but to confirm one thing— that after being knocked down, a person really can start again.

Those matches taught me that moving forward is never an easy road, but as long as the direction remains, no step is wasted.

On August 1, 2024, at the Paris Olympics, the match against Tomokazu Harimoto lasted a full 1 hour and 7 minutes.

I watched the entire match. And that night, without any warning, I cried.

Not because of the result. But because you clearly understand— what is weighing behind a match like that is more than a decade of effort, countless repetitions, and persistence and struggle that were never captured on camera, but undeniably real.

When he finally stood on the top podium of the Olympic men’s singles, what came to my mind was not the word “success,” but a simpler sentence: Heaven does not fail the kind-hearted.

Later, I watched him compete again on a new stage in 2026. Unburdened, playing with freedom, his love for table tennis written clearly into every rally.

In that moment, I suddenly realized— if this road were not carefully recorded, it would not only be his loss, but also mine, as a witness and companion.

And so, this website came into being.

fzdhero.com is not an official site, nor does it attempt to create a myth. It is simply an ordinary spectator’s attempt to preserve the matches, moments, and emotions seen over the years, in a more restrained and structured way.

If you have also been watching along the way, perhaps here you may rediscover that match, that year, or that moment you remember.

If you are standing at a crossroads in your own life, feeling lost, helpless, or unsure where to go next, perhaps you can take a look at his road so far.

You may not find an answer right away, but within those repetitions, persistence, and refusal to step back, you might find a small strength to keep moving forward.

My friend, when you choose to keep walking toward that small light, one day when you look back, you will thank yourself— for not stopping.

May everyone who arrives here find a way out of their own difficulties, and walk toward a future that belongs to them.