For me, Dunedin is not just a travel destination but an emotional home—another hometown that holds the memories of my student years.
And it was here that I had the opportunity to compete in the South Island Clubs NZ Table Tennis 2025 Championship Tournament.
The tournament, held on September 19 and 20, was organized by Dunedin Metropolitan Club Inc. and hosted by Dunedin Metro. Over 150 players from more than ten teams across the South Island took part.
Officially, the South Island has about 19 table tennis clubs with around 600 registered members. While this number is smaller than that of the North Island, the South Island competition is deeply rooted in long-standing community traditions. It is not merely a sporting event but a stage symbolizing the history and culture of table tennis in the region.
In fact, table tennis in New Zealand has a longer history than many might assume. Introduced in the early 20th century by European immigrants and Asian students, the sport flourished around local clubs in South Island cities.
Among them, Dunedin and
Christchurch became especially vibrant centers. It was during the 1970s that the South Island competition became more structured, and since then, clubs have gathered annually to compete for the regional title. Year after year, players of different generations and nationalities have shared sweat and camaraderie, and the 2025 championship stood as a continuation of that history.
For me, this was my first official tournament. Matches were divided into grades from A to D, and competitors ranged in age from their 20s to their 80s. Watching so many generations wield the same racket, chasing the same small white ball, made the unique spirit of the South Island tournament vividly clear.
I competed in the B grade. Merely participating was enough to fill me with nerves and excitement, but as the matches went on, the tension and anticipation only grew. Yet the encouragement and warm support from outside the court made me feel right at home. The words of my teammates—“You’ve been a great help to the team”—were more precious than any trophy.
The most dramatic moment came during a singles match. I was down 0–2, and a thought crept in: “Is this the end?” But a vow not to give up breathed new strength into my hands. Point by point, I clawed my way back, holding on to my fading energy, regaining my focus.
In the end, I achieved an unbelievable comeback victory, 3–2. The roar from the stands and my own surge of disbelief and joy washed over me like a wave. Ironically, my singles win rate in practice had been only about 10%, yet in this tournament
it soared to nearly 80%. This transformation defied explanation in numbers alone. If I had to describe it in one word, it was a miracle.
The Dunedin court delivered a clear message to me: “If you don’t give up, a way will always open.”
Our team ultimately won the silver medal. Considering the scale of the tournament and the competitive nature of the clubs, it was a truly valuable achievement. But above all, sharing that medal with my teammates, smiling together, made it more than a symbol of victory. It was a declaration: “We are not alone.”
Table tennis is often seen as an individual sport, yet what I felt in the tournament was quite the opposite. We cheered each other on, celebrated every single point together, and offered comfort in moments of defeat. That collective strength was what enabled me to rise again after a difficult start. Though it seemed like I was competing alone, I was never truly alone on the court. That was the real meaning of the silver medal.
The city of Dunedin itself made the experience even more special. Known as the most European city in the South Island, it blends Scottish-style architecture, rolling hills, and coastal scenery. My memories of student life there intertwined with the cheers of the tournament, weaving past and present together in a way that felt almost destined.
Historically, Dunedin has long been recognized as a sporting city. From rugby, cricket, and hockey to smaller-scale indoor sports like table tennis, the city has nurtured a rich sporting culture. This tournament became a stage where personal memory intersected with the legacy of a community.
Looking back, the greatest lesson from this experience was more than just victory. In every moment of disadvantage, I told myself, “Just one point at a time,” and that persistence became a metaphor for life itself. Life is unpredictable. Unfair situations and walls that seem insurmountable can appear at any moment. Yet if one holds on without giving up, unexpected doors will open. The lesson I learned on the court in Dunedin still lives within me today.
That silver medal was not a final destination but a medal of hope that continues to shine.
Never despair. Stand tall, even if you stand alone. And at the end of every challenge, have the courage to applaud yourself. Dunedin etched these three lessons deep into my heart and gave me another turning point in life.
Choontae Park is a former university dean who now lives in New Zealand.
