A recent post by Zhu Fangyu about a dinner with Liu Yudong caught my attention. As a key player for the Guangdong Southern Tigers in his prime, Zhu revealed a shocking defensive strategy from Li Chunjiang’s coaching era against the Bayi Rockets. Li Chunjiang set a team-wide defensive goal that would be unthinkable today: as long as they could hold Liu Yudong to under 30 points, it was considered a successful defensive performance.
In today’s NBA or CBA, any team would set a goal of holding the opponent’s star to under 20 points, and anything under 15 would be celebrated. But for Liu Yudong, the bar was set at 30 points. Isn’t that an admission of defeat? Zhu quickly explained that it wasn’t a concession; Liu Yudong was simply unstoppable. At that time, Liu had scored 50+ points in four or five consecutive games. No team in the CBA could contain his offense. Li Chunjiang initially tried to trap him with zone defense, but despite the team’s full effort, Liu still scored over 30 points, breaking Guangdong’s defensive line.
I initially thought Zhu was exaggerating, but after reviewing game records from that era, I realized he was telling the truth. Liu Yudong’s dominance in his prime was even more terrifying than we remember.
This takes us back to the 2001-02 season, when Liu was at the peak of his career. He averaged 36.4 points per game, easily winning the league scoring title. That season, only Liu and Sun Jun among domestic players averaged over 30 points per game—a feat still impressive today.
Younger fans might think that era’s scoring was low, but the league average was just around 95 points per game. Liu’s individual output accounted for nearly a third of his team’s total points. That proportion is unmatched in the modern CBA.
What’s even more frightening is his consistency. Over his 12-season career, he shot over 50% from the field every season, and over 35% from three-point range, with 10 seasons above 39%. Even in his later years with Fujian, his shooting efficiency didn’t drop. That kind of reliability leaves defenders helpless.
Guangdong’s defensive lineup back then was strong, with players like Zhu Fangyu and Du Feng, both elite defenders. But Liu Yudong was versatile: he could score inside and out, making him impossible to defend. Li Chunjiang’s watered-down goal was the most practical approach.
One classic game was Guangdong’s home match against Bayi. Guangdong assigned Zhu Fangyu as the primary defender, with Du Feng ready to help, and sometimes double-teamed Liu. Yet Liu always found ways to evade through clever movement, either hitting his signature high-arcing fadeaway or muscling through the paint. Every shot was incredibly accurate.
Zhu later recalled that defending Liu Yudong was pure torture. You could predict where he would shoot, but you couldn’t stop him. His release point was too high, and his rhythm perfect. Even jumping as high as possible, you could only watch the ball go in. That game, Guangdong fought hard but still failed to keep him under 30 points. Liu scored over 30, proving his superiority.
Setting 30 points as the success threshold wasn’t conservative; it was the highest recognition of Liu’s ability. In an era dominated by domestic stars, the fact that the peak Guangdong team had to lower their expectations speaks volumes about Liu’s dominance.
Many say Liu’s success was purely talent, but talent was only part of it. His grit was unmatched. His knees were filled with ten bone fragments, and he played with that injury for years until surgery after the 2003 season. Despite the pain, his training demands were brutal: others would shoot 500 shots; he would double it to 1,000, followed by 500 weighted ball drills. While others bench-pressed 100 kg, he pushed to 150 kg. Such relentless discipline gave him that unshakeable shooting touch and physical strength.
Faced with double-teams, most players would panic and pass or force a bad shot. Not Liu. He always identified defensive gaps instantly and exploited them.
One classic highlight: Double-teamed by Guangdong, he pretended to pass, causing the defenders’ weights to shift. He then pivoted and created space for a quick jumper that found nothing but net. That reading of the game is elite even by today’s standards.
Compared to contemporaries like Sun Jun, who had explosive scoring but less consistency, or Wang Zhizhi, who had interior advantage but lacked Liu’s outside shooting, Liu Yudong had no weaknesses. He could attack inside, hit threes, and shoot free throws flawlessly. There was no way to game plan against him.
Guangdong tried various tactics: first zone defense to protect the paint, so Liu exploited gaps with threes. Then man-to-man, and he simply overpowered the single defender. Regardless of the adjustment, Liu always had an answer.
Zhu Fangyu said the biggest feeling defending Liu was helplessness. Not because of lack of effort, but because of the opponent’s sheer brilliance. Liu’s greatness stemmed from his deep love for basketball and his perseverance. Even with his knee injuries and facing the toughest defense, he never gave up.
Those ten bone fragments in his knee aren’t a badge of honor to flaunt; they’re the best testament to his dedication to the game. As the saying goes, talent has limits, but effort has none. He left the CBA not just with records, but with the indomitable spirit of the older generation.
Today’s CBA sees stronger foreign players, making it harder for domestic talents to shine. Young players should look to Liu Yudong’s story and learn from his discipline and hard work. They don’t need to set a 30-point target from day one; just give their all every game and stay true to their passion—that’s enough.
