Harimoto Ditches Flick‑Loop to Upset Wang Chuqin in WTT Yokohama Final

The turning point, Harimoto told reporters, was a radical shift in his tactics. In a previous showdown in Las Vegas, he was soundly beaten 0‑4 by Wang. “My go‑to “nǐng‑lā” (flick‑loop) game was exactly what Wang was reading all the time,” he said. “I decided to abandon it and try something completely different, even if it meant losing, in order to get more experience.” The “nǐng‑lā” – a rapid, looping attack that has become Harimoto’s trademark – had been neutralised by Wang’s disciplined defence, prompting the Japanese star to abandon the move for the Yokohama final.

The gamble paid off. While Wang committed an unusual number of unforced errors, Harimoto’s new, experimental approach forced the Chinese star into uncharacteristic mistakes. A medical timeout taken by Harimoto in the third game added an extra twist – many observers argued it disrupted Wang’s rhythm at a crucial moment, helping Harimoto seize the momentum. The timing and nature of the timeout became a hot topic on social media, where many users questioned whether it had tipped the scales in a “commercial” WTT event.

Harimoto’s candid confession about his new strategy – “abandoning the flick‑loop” – has sparked a broader debate about the evolution of table‑tennis tactics. If the move is indeed the “secret” to the upset, it could prompt a wave of strategic re‑evaluation among China’s national team coaches and athletes. Analysts speculate that the shift might encourage new training methods, spur equipment manufacturers to fine‑tune gear for alternative styles, and influence the broader competitive landscape that has long been dominated by China’s “national ball”.

Fans in both China and Japan are buzzing. Some Chinese net‑users highlighted Harimoto’s historic 3‑12 record against Wang, pointing out that a single victory does not guarantee future dominance. Others mocked the notion of a “secret”, suggesting the win may have been a fluke or the result of a single strategic change. A sizable share of the conversation centered on the medical timeout, which many fans argued disrupted Wang’s momentum, while some commentators defended Wang’s performance, attributing his loss to a loss of focus in a high‑pressure environment.

The win also triggered a wave of nationalist commentary. One user defended Chinese star Fan Zhendong, noting that Wang’s loss under pressure contrasted with Fan’s composure in past Olympic encounters, and underscored that the Yokohama match – a commercially‑driven WTT event – does not carry the same weight as an Olympic final.

Beyond the immediate excitement, the fallout has broader implications. A successful tactical adjustment against a dominant Chinese player may encourage other nations’ programs to invest more in talent development and innovative coaching. The heightened media attention also boosts the commercial appeal of table‑tennis events, drawing sponsors and increasing broadcast value. At the same time, the rivalry adds a cultural dimension to Sino‑Japanese sporting relations, providing a platform for cross‑border dialogue and fan engagement.

Whether Harimoto’s “abandon the flick‑loop” approach becomes a lasting formula or a one‑off experiment, the win has already reshaped conversations around table‑tennis strategy, athlete adaptation, and the ever‑shifting balance of power in the sport’s global hierarchy. As fans continue to dissect every rally and social‑media commentary, one thing is clear: the rivalry between Harimoto and Wang, now punctuated by a secret that may or may not be revealed fully, has added fresh drama to an already fiercely contested sport.