We didn't play at such a high level for quite a long time
In the spring of 2021, China's national football team offered its long-suffering fans a rare and fragile gift — the permission to hope again. Under new coach Li Tie, a former Everton midfielder who inherited a program steeped in disappointment, the team won four consecutive qualifying matches and advanced to the decisive third stage of World Cup qualifying. The numbers were impressive, the opponents modest, but the deeper story was one of a nation cautiously rediscovering belief in a sport that had broken its heart many times before.
- A program defined by decades of humiliation — losses to Uzbekistan and Thailand, a single World Cup appearance in 2002 with zero goals scored — had left Chinese fans conditioned to expect failure.
- Li Tie stepped into a vacuum left by Marcello Lippi's bitter resignation, tasked not just with winning matches but with rebuilding the psychological architecture of an entire football culture.
- Four wins, 17 goals, one conceded — including a 3-1 defeat of group leaders Syria — sent China through to the third qualifying stage and briefly set Weibo alight with something resembling genuine joy.
- Analysts and sports journalists were quick to temper the celebration, warning that the opponents were weak, the defense still shaky, and the real test — Japan, South Korea, Australia, Iran — had not yet arrived.
- The central question now hanging over everything: can a confidence so carefully and recently rebuilt survive its first encounter with truly elite competition?
China's football federation had grown accustomed to heartbreak. Decades of national embarrassment — home losses to Uzbekistan and Thailand, a single World Cup appearance in 2002 that produced no goals — had taught fans not to hope. But in the spring of 2021, something shifted. Under new coach Li Tie, a former Everton midfielder with over 90 caps for China, the national team won four consecutive qualifying matches, scoring 17 goals and conceding just one, culminating in a 3-1 victory over Syria that sent them through to the third stage of Qatar 2022 World Cup qualifying.
Li had inherited a difficult situation. He took the job permanently in January 2020 after Marcello Lippi's resignation following a humiliating loss to Syria, stepping into a vacuum of both tactics and confidence. The qualifying campaign was further complicated when the coronavirus pandemic forced three of the four matches to be relocated to Sharjah in the UAE. Rather than derailing the team, the disruption seemed to forge unity. Veteran journalist Ma Dexing praised the squad's resilience, while The Paper highlighted Li's emotional intelligence — particularly his public defense of struggling forward Wu Lei — as a key factor in holding the group together.
After the Syria victory, Li was measured in his words. He acknowledged the team had not played at a high level for a long time and knew that beating Guam and Maldives meant little against the larger challenge ahead. China sat 77th in the world rankings, and the next round would bring Japan, South Korea, Australia, and Iran. He called for friendlies against elite opponents to prepare.
The public allowed itself a moment of feeling. Li's team trended on Weibo, and fans cautiously reopened a door they had long kept shut. But skepticism arrived quickly. Soccer News warned that reaching the third stage should be the bare minimum for a nation of China's size, and noted that even against weak opposition, the defense had looked vulnerable. The question that lingered was pointed: if the next round goes badly, will this fragile, newly rebuilt confidence simply disappear?
China had not become a football superpower. The structural problems remained. But Li Tie had given his country something it had not felt in years — a reason to believe that tomorrow might be different from yesterday. Whether that belief could survive genuine competition was the story still to be written.
China's football federation had grown accustomed to heartbreak. For decades, the national team had been a source of national embarrassment—a squad that lost at home to Uzbekistan and Thailand, that reached the World Cup only once, in 2002, and then failed to score a single goal across three group matches. The fans had learned not to hope. But something shifted in the spring of 2021 when Li Tie, a former Everton midfielder turned coach, guided the team through the second stage of qualifying for the Qatar 2022 World Cup. In four consecutive matches, China won every game. They beat Guam 7-0, then Maldives, then the Philippines, then Syria 3-1 in a decisive final match that sent them through to the third qualifying stage. Seventeen goals scored. One conceded. The numbers alone were not the story—the opponents were modest, the competition not fierce. But the story was what those numbers meant to people who had stopped believing.
Li Tie had inherited a mess. When he took the job permanently in January 2020, the team was reeling from the departure of Marcello Lippi, the Italian World Cup winner who had quit in November 2019 after a humiliating loss to Syria. The qualifying campaign was in ruins. Lippi's exit had left a vacuum not just in tactics but in confidence. The Chinese football establishment, under the football-loving eye of President Xi Jinping, had grand ambitions—to host and win a World Cup by 2050—but the national team was nowhere near capable of such things. At 44 years old, Li was tasked with rebuilding not just a squad but a narrative. He had played for China himself, earning more than 90 caps, and he had worked as an assistant under Lippi. He knew the weight of expectation.
The qualifying matches were supposed to be played in China, but the coronavirus pandemic forced a last-minute relocation. After the demolition of Guam at home, the remaining three matches were moved to Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates. It was a disruption that could have derailed everything. Instead, it seemed to forge something. Ma Dexing, a journalist who had been covering the national team for three decades, wrote that the squad deserved credit for what they had accomplished under such circumstances. More than that, he sensed something he had not felt in years: genuine unity. The Paper, a Shanghai-based outlet, praised Li's man-management, noting his willingness to publicly defend key forward Wu Lei, who was struggling at his club in Spain. Li had what the newspaper called high emotional intelligence—the ability to hold a fractured group together.
When Li spoke after the victory over Syria, he acknowledged the gap that still existed. "We didn't play at such a high level for quite a long time," he said. It was a measured statement, not triumphalism. He knew that beating Guam and Maldives and the Philippines meant almost nothing in the larger scheme of things. China was ranked 77th in the world, sandwiched between Curacao and Panama. The real opponents—Japan, South Korea, Australia, Iran—were waiting in the next stage. Li wanted to arrange friendlies against elite teams before that stage began. Only by testing themselves against the world's best could they truly improve, he told state media.
The victory sparked something in the Chinese public. Li's team trended on Weibo, the Twitter-like platform, as fans allowed themselves to feel something they had suppressed for years. But the skepticism was immediate and warranted. Soccer News, a Chinese sports outlet, warned that reaching the third qualifying stage should be the bare minimum for a nation of China's size and resources. The real test had not yet begun. Moreover, even against weak opposition, the defense had looked shaky. The newspaper posed a question that hung over everything: what happens if the next round goes badly? Will this fragile confidence, so carefully rebuilt, simply evaporate?
That was the tension at the heart of the moment. China had not become a football superpower. They had not solved the structural problems that had plagued them for decades. But under Li Tie, they had offered their fans something they had not felt in a long time: a reason to believe that tomorrow might be different from yesterday. Whether that belief could survive contact with genuine competition remained to be seen.
Citações Notáveis
Chinese football has broken its promise countless times before. The team really deserves the pride of the Chinese people this time.— Ma Dexing, journalist covering the national team for 30 years
Only by playing against strong teams can we really improve ourselves.— Li Tie, on the need for high-quality friendly opponents before the next qualifying stage
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter that China beat Guam and Maldives? Those aren't real tests.
You're right—they aren't. But the point isn't that China suddenly became good. It's that a nation that had stopped believing in itself started believing again. After losing to Thailand at home, after decades of humiliation, the fans had learned not to hope. Four wins in a row changed the emotional temperature.
So this is really about psychology, not football?
It's both. The wins are real, the goals are real. But what makes it a story is that those wins happened to a team and a country that had been told they were hopeless. Li Tie didn't just win matches—he convinced people that winning was possible.
The article mentions the defense looked suspect even in these easy matches. Doesn't that undermine everything?
Completely. That's why the skepticism in the piece is so important. This confidence is fragile. If China faces Japan or South Korea in the next stage and gets exposed, all of this goodwill could vanish overnight. The real test hasn't happened yet.
What's different about Li Tie compared to Lippi?
Lippi was a World Cup winner brought in to deliver results immediately. He quit when things got hard. Li is a former player who understands the culture, who defends his players publicly, who seems to understand that rebuilding takes time. He's not promising miracles—he's just trying to make incremental progress.
And the naturalised players—what's that about?
China brought in four foreign-born players who took Chinese citizenship. It's a way to quickly improve the squad's quality. But it also shows how much they're struggling to develop homegrown talent.