In his final press conference of the season, Qiu Biao brought Tao Hanlin along. That choice spoke volumes.
Typically, a coach’s selection of a player to accompany him signals something: a starter is a nod of approval, a rookie is a vote of confidence, a veteran is often a tribute—and sometimes a subtle farewell. But when Tao sat down, neither Qiu nor the veteran himself mentioned retirement. Tao simply said, “We’ll try again next year.”
Those words may sound casual, but they carry tremendous weight.
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Shandong has long been known for producing big men. The list is a who’s who of Chinese basketball: Ji Minshang, the “Chinese Mailman” with a reliable mid-range jumper at 2.10 meters; Gong Xiaobin, a power forward whose back-to-the-basket game would make him a natural center today; Hou Bing, as tough as oak; Guo Lei, agile and quick; Wu Ke, a blue-collar grinder who gave 13 years; Jia Cheng, a stretch four who could step out and hit threes; and Zhu Rongzhen, the 2.18-meter giant who left for Liaoning with great expectations but never returned to his roots.
This lineage of interior players has defined Shandong’s identity.
Tao Hanlin is the last link in that chain. Joining the first team in 2009, he has spent 16 seasons in one city. At his peak, he averaged a double-double, and his explosive finishes at the rim were almost unstoppable. Fans called him “Little Shark” for a reason—his relentless, hard-nosed style was a continuation of Shandong’s proud tradition.
But in this year’s playoffs against Shanghai, his minutes were chopped up. Not because Qiu didn’t want to use him, but because his body could no longer handle 30 minutes a night. At 34, his knees and back aren’t what they used to be.
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Qiu Biao understands this better than anyone. By bringing Tao to that final press conference, he was sending a message: as long as this man is on the team, he remains the backbone of the locker room. His experience, his temper, his stubborn “I won’t back down” attitude—younger players still lower their heads when they see Tao, not out of fear but out of respect.
But respect alone doesn’t win games.
Shandong’s talent pipeline is frighteningly thin. Sun Tonglin arrived as a veteran stopgap but remains a role player. Guo Kai is a natural power forward, too undersized to play pure center. Import Chris is a mercenary who may not be here next year—relying on him to build around is shaky.
The real issue goes deeper: in Shandong’s youth system, there is not a single homegrown center prospect taller than 2.10 meters.
Look around the league: Liaoning has Liu Yanyu, slim but standing at 2.13. Guangdong has Xu Xin at 2.26. Zhejiang has Yu Jiahao at 2.21, a local product from Wenzhou. What about Shandong? The tallest interior player in their youth team is around 2.05 meters—well short of the size needed to compete at the CBA level.
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Finding Tao Hanlin’s successor is the single most critical task for Shandong this offseason.
There are three paths forward.
The first is internal development. Scour the youth team for a hidden gem and bring him
