"Yao on one hand is this great symbol of China's modern advancement, a commercial icon that can stride across the Pacific and play the role of a bridge between East and West," he said. "But he's still the product of this system which is one of the last bastions of socialism in China." Larmer says Yao's birth had been anticipated for decades by communist officials - desperate to boost national pride through sports - who had been tracking his family for two generations.

He describes a system where doctors armed with special growth-predicting manuals measure youngsters' bones and pubic hair to identify future athletes. Weightlifters must be squat with strong torsos; divers need tiny hips to minimise splash; basketball players must simply be tall. "It's no accident that there have been generations of players who have continued to get taller," he said. "One of the first NBA scouts was blown away when he went to northern China and saw more than 20 seven-footers [213cm]." Yao's grandfather, one of Shanghai's tallest men, was discovered too late for basketball but his son, the 205cm Yao Zhiyuan, soon found himself dragged into the sports system.

There he was paired off with the 182cm Fang Fengdi, China's women's captain who had been a feared Red Guard during the murderous Cultural Revolution. The two were encouraged to marry in a system with undertones of eugenics, the controversial gene-pool manipulation espoused by the Nazis and previously trumpeted by Beijing.

"It wasn't a national breeding program, it was a desire among Shanghai officials for them to get together," Larmer said. "But when Yao was born, everybody in the sports community in Shanghai and nationally knew he was something special." The giant infant, who was just eight years old when he reached the average Chinese male's height of 171cm, was recruited for basketball despite his parents' objections and his own hatred for the sport. "Even when his parents resisted at first to put him in the same system that had caused them some suffering and bitterness, there was not a lot of choice," Larmer said.

"He hated the game for a decade. He didn't like it, he wasn't any good at it." The eight-year-old Yao embarked on a program of intense, repetitive training under disciplinarian coaches who offered little encouragement or variety.

Meanwhile, scientists fed him a steady stream of mysterious concoctions designed to make him taller, raising the spectre of possible hormone treatment at a time when China was suffering a series of doping scandals. "In Yao's case I don't have any proof … [but] in that period of time in the 1990s they were using all kinds of experimental stuff to enhance players' stamina and strength," Larmer said. "One would think that as China can flex its muscle economically, militarily, diplomatically, that it wouldn't need sports as a crutch.

"But sport is such a visible, exciting measure for China's position in the world, and national feeling is so strong, I don't think that's going to be easy to give up. Gold medals have become an addiction. How do you kick the habit when you've reached the top?" AFP