Renshi CHOKAI

Wheelchair Basketball

Photographs by Mika NINAGAWA │ Interview & Text by Senichi ZOSHIGAYA

We’re Going to Win Gold
The Steel and Passion of a Young Wheelchair Basketball Star
Men’s wheelchair basketball is fast becoming one of the most-watched sports in Japan, and at the center of the national team is Renshi Chokai, a 20-year old from Saikai City, Nagasaki Prefecture. Chokai was born lacking a few fingers from each hand, and had both of his legs, which were missing shinbones, amputated when he was three years old. He has been assigned 2.0 points* for his level of impairment, a number that is fairly low compared to the rest of the players on the court. The men’s national wheelchair basketball team has been very active, and his roles and responsibilities on the court are constantly growing. But already, with his sense of composure—the objectivity with which he’s able to analyze the things that happen around him, and answer questions about them—he gives off the air of a seasoned veteran. The frustration he experienced at the Rio Paralympic Games, which he competed in in 2016 as a high-schooler, his aspiration to win gold at the Tokyo Paralympic Games, and his own personal growth as an athlete—he observes it all, and the future too, with a sense of calm and objectivity in direct contrast to the passion he shows during their matches. * Wheelchair basketball has their own distinctive classification system, based on “points.” Though the size of the court and the rules are the same as regular basketball, players are assigned points from 1.0 to 4.5 in 0.5-point increments, depending on their level of impairment. The total points for the five players on the court cannot exceed 14.0 points. Generally speaking, players with lower points tend to have heavier levels of impairment. With his incredible core stability, agility, and high-level wheelchair techniques, however, Chokai is an integral part of the team’s strategies.
Renshi CHOKAI
I was just so frustrated,
when I first got on my wheelchair and started playing, that these older guys could all do it and I couldn’t—
so frustrated
How “Do Anything You Want” Led to Defiance and Competitive Spirit
First, could you tell us what kind of environment you grew up in as a child?
I’ve talked about this a lot in other interviews too, but one of the things that had the biggest impact on me was being at Nanohana Nursery. The building looked like it was carved out of the side of a mountain, and as a kid, it looked like a castle to me. It felt like it was in the middle of the mountain, in the middle of nature. Some of the stairs were slides, there was a play area on the slope of a mountain, and I think the environment as a whole was a lot more active, in terms of play, than in other day cares.
My parents and my teachers communicated really well in terms of how they wanted me to grow up, and a part of that—a kind of rule or policy that they made—was that they’d let me do anything I wanted, and that if I couldn’t for some reason, they’d find a way for me to do it. I think that had a huge impact on the way I think, even now.
Was the rule something that your parents decided on?
I’m not really sure, but there were a few other kids at the day care who had impairments as well, and I think the environment as a whole was about letting us all do what we wanted. I mean, the day care had a set system to accept everyone regardless of impairment, and of course, my own parents were very firm in the idea that they’d let me do whatever I wanted. So them coming across [that day care] was just a very happy thing. Looking back now, I see that that was the reason I was able to be so relaxed and carefree back then.
Do you remember the first time you really became aware of your impairment, growing up in that kind of day care and under those kinds of parents?
Yes, when I was a kid. Sure, I was in an environment where they’d let me do anything I wanted, but there were still things I’d try and wouldn’t be able to do. And even as a kid, I knew I had to think things through on my own if I wanted to do these things. I wasn’t particularly frustrated or worried about it, but I did understand that I was different from other people.
When did you start getting involved in sports?
I started playing sports competitively as a first-year in junior high school, when I joined the school’s tennis team. I say competitively, but I quit in June to start playing wheelchair basketball, so I guess in reality it was just me having fun. I mean, in my six years of elementary school I played all kinds of sports—soccer, baseball, badminton, volleyball… And I learned all of them through play. We were a basketball family as well and my brother, who’s a year older than me, played mini basketball, so we’d go see his games, and I would always play basketball with my dad as well. So playing basketball really seemed like the natural thing to do. And of course, it was also just the fun of riding a wheelchair. When I first started playing I couldn’t maneuver the sports wheelchair very well, like I’d try to turn and fall over, but I guess there was a part of me that saw it as a toy, something to play around with. And then, over time, I got more and more into it.
Your parents must have been happy when you started playing basketball, what with you guys being a basketball family.
I don’t really know [laughs]. They definitely weren’t against it, but I do remember having a talk with them about it. I was switching over from tennis, and they wanted to know if I was going to be serious about playing basketball. After that though they were really supportive.
What was the first wheelchair basketball team you joined like?
It was a team in Sasebo City—a really strong one that was constantly in the top three in the Kyushu area. At the time, the people on the team who were closest in age to me were still about 10 years older. The team was very good, of course, but they also really supported me as a player. They, I think, guided me to make sure I’d really get into wheelchair basketball [laughs]. When I joined the team, they set it up so that the entire team would start all over from the basics, creating an environment where I could grow as a player. They really supported me in all kinds of ways. I did start meeting people that were around my age after I got through a lot of the training and started going to junior training camps, but for the first year, I was always training with people a lot older and more experienced than me.
It must have been a great learning experience for you, as a beginner, to be able to train with these experienced older players.
I was just so frustrated, when I first got on my wheelchair and started playing, that these older guys could all do it and I couldn’t—so frustrated. Afterwards I just started setting up individual goals for myself, like I’ll shoot better than this guy, be faster than that guy. I wanted to beat them all. I think for me, it was more this sense of frustration than being upset or discouraged that I wasn’t able to do the things they were doing.
Would you say your stubbornness is what makes you good at sports?
I’ve always been competitive, even from when I was little. I think I was the kind of kid who’d really work at something until I was satisfied, even if it was just a game. There’s always a certain standard that I need to fulfill before I’m happy with something, and I’m not satisfied until I get there. On a more fundamental level, though, I play sports because it’s fun. Looking back, I think a part of it was just being happy that I could participate in sport as an athlete.
That personality was probably the reason you were invited to the junior intensive training camp after only about a year playing wheelchair basketball.
I didn’t feel like I was doing very well, though. Nowadays the policies and the systems of evaluation are changing, but back then, I felt like they were just happy that young people wanted to play wheelchair basketball at all. The first time I competed in a qualifier for an overseas junior tournament, there were three of us total from Nagasaki Prefecture. And on our way home, the two other guys got calls telling them to get their passports ready, and I was the only one who didn’t get that call. I was so frustrated and angry at myself, that afterwards I trained every day as hard as I could, even staying over at my older teammates’ houses so I could train harder. I think when I was in junior high school, most of what I felt was this kind of anger, this frustration with myself.
I’m assuming you still play with these other junior players that you went to these training camps with, as part of the Japan national team?
Yes. A lot of them are two years older than me. I’ve played with [Takuya] Furusawa, [Rin] Kawahara, and [Takayoshi] Iwai since the junior days, so we go back a long way. I think a lot of them were chosen for the national team through various tournaments after the Rio Paralympics ended.
I just thought, what was all of this for?
Everything I sacrificed—my high-school life,
everything I gave up to train for Rio.
I think it went beyond frustration at that point and
became sort of, “Oh well, who even cares anymore?”
Mostly though it was just me sulking [laughs]
The “Dispassionate” Perspective: Balancing Two Roles in Two Teams
You were still a high-schooler when you competed in the Rio Paralympics in 2016, as the team’s youngest player. It’s been three years since then, and nowadays you live on your own in Chiba Prefecture, working at a company, and training at the Para Kanagawa Sports Club (hereafter “Para Kanagawa”), which is based in Fujisawa City. Why did you decide to leave Nagasaki Prefecture, where you grew up, and change your environment so drastically?
Right after Rio, when everyone was setting their sights on the Tokyo Paralympics, I went through a period where I actually thought of quitting wheelchair basketball. I went to these training camps for Rio, came home and trained even more, rinse and repeat, and I personally felt I’d given it all I had—but then, when it came down to it, we ended up 9th place in the world. It just made me think, we’re no match for the world. I felt like I’d failed, like I’d hit a massive wall. I thought, maybe I should just quit wheelchair basketball and go do something completely different. I was actually thinking of studying abroad after graduating, so I was going around collecting pamphlets for that.
You were that down on yourself after Rio?
Somehow, my parents managed to convince me to go to Nippon Sport Science University, which would mean moving to the Kanto area. I narrowed my search down to a few teams in the area, and one of them was Para Kanagawa. The biggest thing for me was that Furusawa, who I’d known and played with since my junior days, was already on that team. The team had more older, experienced players than in other teams, and I guess I just wanted to see how well Furusawa and I could play, as younger team members, in an environment like that. It also felt like they would let me have more responsibilities, like they’d let me come up with and direct game plans and strategies. So I decided to really get into wheelchair basketball again, here in this environment.
It seems like your whole life, you’ve had this spirit of defiance towards defeat or failure, and that you’ve used your frustration from these experiences to grow as an athlete. Are you saying that what you felt at the Paralympics was a wall you felt couldn’t be climbed, a gap that couldn’t be filled?
It was more emotional. Like… we can’t win, we can’t compete, we’ll never do well. I just thought, what was all of this for? Everything I sacrificed—my high-school life, everything I gave up to train for Rio. And what we got, ultimately, was nowhere near what I wanted. I think it went beyond frustration at that point and became sort of, “Oh well, who even cares anymore?” Mostly though it was just me sulking [laughs].
So at Rio, you dealt with these feelings you’d never felt before. And now, at 20 years old, you’ve already spent five years on the Japan national team. Has anything changed for you in terms of your way of thinking, or how you feel?
For a long time I was also the youngest member of the national team, and it felt like everyone was okay with me being on the team as long as I had energy, as long as I was aggressive. I spent a lot of time being supported by everyone else, and just having fun and being grateful for that support. Looking back, though, I feel like I was relying on it a little too much. Now, with the Tokyo Paralympics only a year away, I feel like there’s so much more I need to contribute to the team—whether it be supporting the newer players who’ve come in after me, or going in with the kind of aggressiveness I need to keep up with the more experienced players. I think, though, the biggest change is how I’ve begun to prioritize how well I play in the context of the team, and whether the team as a whole is happy with my performance, as opposed to whether I personally am happy with my plays.
What do you think about the difference between your role in Para Kanagawa and your role in the Japan national team?
The Japan national team as a whole plays at a very high level. So in a nutshell, if there’s a player who’s better than me at shooting, I’ll spend my time on the court thinking about how I could get that player to make a shot. My role is kind of that of a supporter, in that sense, trying to get the best players to perform at their best. The club team, on the other hand, is a combination of players who are playing very competitively, and those who are just playing for fun. So there’s varying degrees of passion and motivation in the club team, and my role there is to see how well I can channel my own experiences into the team’s performance. It’s Furusawa and I that have to make the points. I have to direct the team’s strategies, and try to make the best use of Furusawa’s strengths. I have to fulfill a lot more roles on the club team, in that sense, but I think that’s also what makes it fun and motivating in a way that I don’t really get to experience on the national team.
Is it difficult to play on both of these teams at the same time, what with these differences?
This is something I learned while I was in Kyushu, but I think for me the most important thing is not necessarily winning—it’s having fun. So I’ve never felt like the difference in skill between the two teams has been difficult for me. In terms of training, I feel like I can make up anything I’m missing through individual training.
It seems like the newer players on the national team are really beginning to come into their own. Is that something that motivates you, or makes you feel nervous?
[Ryuga] Akaishi is a player that has the same number of points as I do, and is being asked to do the same kinds of things as me, so when I see him getting better and better at each training camp, I do sometimes feel a little nervous. I feel like where I am now is going to be where he’ll be in the future, which does make him a rival, but at the same time it’s very reassuring to have a player like him on the team. I have my own plays, and that’s why I’m on this team, and I can do plays that he can’t do as well. As long as I’m able to believe that, I won’t ever get really negative or pessimistic. This is the first time I’ve ever felt this kind of pressure—the pressure to be better than players younger than me—but it’s all been a positive experience for me.
Hearing you talk like this, it occurs to me that your maturity and objectivity—at the tender age of 20—comes from your experience playing for so long on the Japan national team, without even a single break.
When I do mental training, I look back on how I’ve been in the past, and a word that tends to come up a lot when I do that is “dispassionate.” It’s less something that other people say, and more something I say about myself when I analyze how I am. It’s not like I’m purposely tamping down my emotions, but I think I’m good at thinking very calmly about what the team needs to do to play effectively and be successful at any given moment. And on the other hand, there’ll be times where I’ll make a good play and everyone around me is roaring and cheering, and I just feel kind of “meh” and neutral about it. I don’t think it’s a bad thing necessarily, but I do feel like I need to work a bit more on myself in terms of my emotional ups and downs.
For me, the thought that it isn’t just my goal anymore really gives me the drive to work hard,
to devote myself to this sport
Thoughts on the Tokyo Paralympics and His Potential Future Overseas
Earlier, you mentioned how burnt out you felt after Rio. What do you think your road to the Tokyo Paralympics will be like?
My feelings have been all over the place since I’ve moved here. I ended up quitting university, and I’ve set up an environment for myself where I can concentrate on wheelchair basketball. I also have a job now, and I think I’ve really gotten to the point where I’m ready to work towards Tokyo. Of course, I’m also thinking in concrete terms about what I’ll do after Tokyo as well, which is to play in an overseas league.
You initially said you wanted to study abroad after graduating high school. What does going abroad mean to you?
Well, I won’t know anything until I get there, of course… But there are two reasons why I want to go abroad. The first is that I want to study another language, and learn more about other cultures. The second is just sports-related, in the sense that I want to learn more about wheelchair basketball in other countries. I just want to see what it’d be like to play with really good players every week. For example, there’s a wheelchair basketball league in Germany. Able-bodied people play as well, and a lot of people come to watch the games because it’s a major sport in Germany. It’d be nice, as a wheelchair basketball player, to be able to play in an environment like that.
Is there a league that you would consider your ideal league?
Germany for sure, but also Italy, Spain… Although to be honest, I think I care more about who I’d get to play with than what league I’d be in. Sometimes I’ll get offers from players abroad who are about my age, saying they want to play with me, so it’d be nice if I could play on the same team as one of them.
Now that the World Challenge Cup is over, the Japan national team is probably right in the middle of preparing for the Pattaya IWBF Asia Oceania Championship. How do you feel about the way your team is playing right now? [This interview was conducted in late October 2019.]
When it comes to the Japan national team, it’s fairly simple. We know from experience that if we play the kind of basketball that we want to play—our ideal basketball—that we can beat most teams, even the kind that win medals. This also means, however, that if we can’t, we lose. For the past year, we’ve focused on playing basketball the way we want to play it, and making sure these plays are reproducible. So in that sense as well, it really does feel like we’re ramping up to the Paralympics. Being able to reproduce good plays is just as much about the individual players as it is about the team, so I think the issue moving forward will be how we’ll think about that, and translate it into action.
Finally, you’ve announced that your goal for Tokyo is to win gold. Could you say a few words about the Tokyo Paralympics?
It’s now been about three years since Rio, and three years since I’ve started working towards the Tokyo Paralympics. But the reality is that we were 9th in the Wheelchair Basketball World Championships last year, and we weren’t able to hit our goal in the Asian Para Games either. So to be honest, there’s a part of me that wonders whether it’s okay for a team like us to talk about winning a gold medal. But I also think that each of us saying these things could help strengthen our resolve, and be a sort of message to each other that we’re aiming for the gold for real. So in that sense as well, we’ve all spoken to each other about how we should say things like this on purpose. Another thing is that winning a medal at the Paralympics has always been a goal of mine, ever since I started wheelchair basketball. That’s what I’ve been training for all this time, playing on the Japan national team and living this whole wheelchair basketball-centered life. But it’s occurred to me in the past two, three years especially that this isn’t just my dream anymore, it’s everyone’s dream—my family, who’ve supported me over the years, and my friends, who always cheer me on, and my sponsors and staff. For me, the thought that it isn’t just my goal anymore really gives me the drive to work hard, to devote myself to this sport. So I really do want to do everything I can to make it a reality.

Renshi CHOKAI

Born in 1999 in Saikai City, Nagasaki Prefecture. Was born with congenital impairments in both hands and legs, and had his legs, which were missing their shinbones, amputated at the age of three. Started playing wheelchair basketball as a first-year in junior high school. Quickly rose to prominence in the Kyushu area, and became a member of the Japan national team as a first-year in high school. Played in the Rio 2016 Paralympic Games as a high-schooler, and also the youngest member of the Japan men’s national wheelchair basketball team. Currently plays for Para Kanagawa Sports Club and works at WOWOW. A promising wheelchair basketball player, considered a star in the making for the Tokyo Paralympic Games.