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I’m a yellow journalist.
New York City’s Department of Health can verify it. On my birth certificate, my Japanese and Chinese parents were both listed as “yellow” in the “color or race” box.
My sister and her best friend, Terri, were the only Asians in their second grade class in New York. For a science project, they were assigned to portray Neptune and Uranus — often referred to as twin planets because of their similar mass and rotation. The planets, not my sister and Terri.
New childhood friends were surprised we did not have a ping-pong table in our apartment because, well, ya know …
But none of that was racist nor malicious nor insulting.
That was just the way things were in the ’60s on the East Coast. Back then in popular culture, the “in living color” television promos did not feature much yellow.
The “Orientals” on television were Hop Sing, a housekeeper on “Bonanza,” and Mrs. Livingston, also a housekeeper, on “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father.” Vito Scotti — wearing thick glasses, taped eyelids and Mickey Rooney’s Mr. Yunioshi persona — played a Japanese sailor on “Gilligan’s Island.”
The Asian action figure was Kato (mispronounced Kay-toe) and portrayed by Bruce Lee. Kato doubled as the Green Hornet’s chauffeur.
In pro sports, the Asian role model was Roosevelt High graduate Mike Lum, the first American of Japanese ancestry to play in the major leagues when he debuted with the Braves in 1967. (He was born to a Japanese woman and American soldier, then adopted by a Chinese couple). Lum had two noteworthy accomplishments — he was one of three to pinch-hit for Hank Aaron, and he served as Michael Jordan’s minor league hitting coach.
Of course, much has changed in ensuing decades. Asians have won Oscars and majors. The American League’s Most Valuable Player is a Japanese national. Ichiro Suzuki should be inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2025. K-pop is pop culture. The only glitch is HBO’s “And Just Like That…” still cannot find an Asian male in New York City.
And then 10 years ago, this reporter — who had co-covered Chaminade’s upset of then-No. 1 Virginia, and watched the University of Hawaii play in the Sugar Bowl — was stunned by a sports phenomenon that was presumed unimaginable in his lifetime. A California-reared, Harvard-educated, twice-cut NBA player nearing the end of a limited-run contract came off the New York Knicks’ bench to score 25 points against the New Jersey Nets. Jeremy Lin went on an improbable February surge that would be dubbed “Linsanity.”
Lin scored 28 against the Utah Jazz, hit the buzzer-beater to defeat the Toronto Raptors, dunked on the Kobe-led Lakers in a 38-point performance, and had a double-double against the Washington Wizards. The Knicks won seven in a row with Lin as the starting point.
Lin would appear on the cover of national magazines, induce director Spike Lee to wear Harvard jerseys at courtside, and be featured in the “Linsanity” documentary.
Linsanity expired after that 2011-12 season when New York officials told Lin to seek other deals that they would try to match. And when he landed a three-year offer from Houston, the Knicks wished him well. Lin went on to play for the Lakers, Charlotte Hornets, Brooklyn Nets and Atlanta Hawks. He won an NBA ring as a rarely used member of the Toronto Raptors. And now he is playing professionally in China.
But while a blip in NBA history, Linsanity mattered. As a 6-foot-3 point guard, Lin was good, but not great; quick, but not John Wall. But as the first American of Chinese or Taiwanese ancestry to play in the NBA, Lin received a metaphorical against-all-odds lottery ticket in a league that actually has a lottery.
On courts across the country, kids don’t believe they can practice long enough to break a backboard. Their goals are tibia-breaking drives, 3-point shots on rims that might not have nets, and no-look passes. A decade ago, Linsanity was a reachable goal. Lin was relatable. In the “Linsanity” documentary, he recalled being stopped at the players’ entrance at Madison Square Garden. “Are you a trainer?” he remembered being asked.
For a certain generation of people who grew up with few role models who looked like them, Timmy Chang being hired as the UH football team’s head coach matters. Derek Inouchi being the lead spokesman for UH sports matters. And on this 10th anniversary, Linsanity mattered.
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