The Call from Aichi-Nagoya: A 45-Minute Journey Before the National Flag for Singapore's Paralympic Delegation

In the moment James Ethan Ang stepped onto the stage at Gardens by the Bay to receive the flag from Minister David Neo, behind him stood 19 athletes with disabilities from Singapore standing tall — that moment lasted less than thirty seconds but contained an entire journey of preparation that no one could see. That is the 45 minutes on the sidelines — where I learned to read what is not written on the scoreboard. On September 12, 2026, at Singapore's famous national gardens, the Fifth Asian Para Games was officially announced with a delegation of 20 athletes across 9 sports. Among them, para athletics was represented by James Ethan Ang, 25, and Muhammad Diroy Noordin — two names that appeared on the live broadcast during the flag ceremony. But behind those two names was an entire silent operating system that few noticed. I observed the ceremony from the press area, where camera lenses competed to focus on the honorific balcony. Beside me, a local journalist was trying to find information about Ang's performance this season — the answer he received was only a shake of the head from the organizers. No times, no distances, no physical classification codes. That information gap is something I'm familiar with when following Vietnamese women's sports — those moments when the scoreboard is empty, those long silences before the referee's whistle. Para athletics — a sport measured by one of the most complex physical classification systems in world sports — poses a particular challenge for any analyst wanting to assess competitive potential. James Ethan Ang and Muhammad Diroy Noordin, the only representatives of athletics in Singapore's delegation, carry numbers waiting to be filled in at Aichi-Nagoya. But right now, no one — not even the coaching staff — can say in advance which events they will compete in, who their opponents will be, and what expectations should be. That silence, in my experience, is usually not a sign of weakness. Throughout 5 years following Vietnam's women's football team, I have witnessed countless moments when an athlete stepped out of the darkness of preparation to shine under the stadium lights — and conversely, the names with the highest expectations remained silent to a frightening degree. In Singapore, the same is happening: James Ethan Ang, at 25, is in an ascending phase of his career — an age when para athletes typically enter their peak phase later than in mainstream sports, due to the longer time required for classification and familiarization with competition. The decision to select Ang as flag bearer — a role usually reserved for athletes with outstanding achievements, rich experience, or high medal potential — is a notable signal. In multi-sport contingents, the decision to give the flag to an athletics athlete, instead of choosing from sports with clearer medal prospects, reflects a deliberate communication strategy: this delegation is going to Aichi-Nagoya not just to win medals, but to affirm the presence of disabled Singaporeans on every sporting front. Alongside Ang, Singapore brings to Japan names with stories more special than achievements. Jovin Tan, 40, was a former Paralympic sailing athlete, now switched to boccia — a sport requiring precise technique and sophisticated tactics. Theresa Goh, 39, a former Paralympic swimmer who brought home medals, now becomes a shooter. Both are beyond the typical athletic peak age, but that is not a disadvantage — in sports requiring technique and concentration like boccia or shooting, experience is often a more powerful weapon than youth. Sport switching at nearly 40 is not a rare phenomenon in para sports. It is a strategy to extend careers through repositioning oneself into fields more suited to changing physical condition with age. A para swimmer at 39 faces different physiological challenges than in their twenties; but the same person, with tactical minds honed through thousands of hours of international competition, can certainly become a formidable shooter — where patience and emotional control matter more than pure reflexes. However, behind the touching story of veterans re-engaging is a less-discussed reality: switching sports in para sports means undergoing an entirely new physical classification process. The IPC (International Paralympic Committee) and international sports federations require each athlete to be classified according to their specific sport — an athlete can be T54 class in wheelchair athletics but belong to an entirely different classification group when switching to swimming. Jovin Tan and Theresa Goh, after leaving their previous sports, must register for reclassification for boccia and shooting — a process requiring detailed medical history, in-depth physical assessment, and sometimes technical interviews with classification experts. Classification risk — I have encountered this term many times in conversations with Vietnamese para athletics coaches — is one of the most underestimated factors in para sports. An athlete can train hard for two years, reach peak form, but still be removed from the competition roster if classification results are not recognized or successfully protested by opponents. For Tan and Goh, the announcement of the official roster on September 12 — only five weeks before the Games opens — indicates that the classification process has been completed or is in its final stages. This is a positive sign, but also a reminder that any delay in the classification process could turn an athlete into a spectator from the stands. A broader view of Singapore's delegation reveals a clear strategic picture: with 20 athletes evenly distributed across 9 sports, the Singapore National Paralympic Council (SNPC) is pursuing a resource dispersal model rather than focusing on a few priority sports. Among these, boccia has the largest team with four athletes, while athletics, para cycling, and para swimming each have three representatives. This is a typical approach for small-scale national paralympic committees — instead of trying to compete directly with powerhouses like China, they choose a broader perspective, creating opportunities for more athletes to participate at the continental level. China, in this context, is an opponent in an entirely different dimension. With a state-organized para sports system, China dominates most Asian rankings — from athletics and swimming to weightlifting. Singapore's real medal competition opponents are in the second tier: Japan with home advantage, Iran, India, and Uzbekistan. Thailand, Malaysia, and Kazakhstan form the third tier, while Singapore's realistic goal is to compete in the fourth tier — events where they have appropriately classified athletes and can advance to finals. Notably, the proportion of first-time Games participants — eight out of 20 athletes, or 40%, are debutants — combined with the absence of a publicly announced medal target, suggests that SNPC is positioning Aichi-Nagoya 2026 as a development and experience-building cycle rather than emphasizing results. This can be judged as lacking ambition, but it is also smart protection — when there are no public expectations, the risk of negative public reaction when performance falls short is also significantly reduced. From another angle, the lack of a medal target announcement also reflects an important narrative reality in para sports: the boundary between success and failure is not only measured by gold, silver, and bronze tables. For a para athlete taking their first step onto the international competition field, finishing the event, breaking personal records, or simply being present at the opening ceremony is already a victory overcoming many barriers that able-bodied people cannot imagine. The absence of performance data in SNPC's press release is not a disadvantage — it is a characteristic of a ceremonial and communication-focused announcement, not a competition news bulletin. Chef de Mission Low See Lien, SNPC Vice President and someone who previously held this role at the 2026 ASEAN Para Games, affirmed that athletes are well prepared — a communication statement, not a data-backed professional assessment based on figures. That doesn't mean the statement is incorrect; it only means there is no basis to verify it. Returning to the flag ceremony at Gardens by the Bay, I recall my first interview in my career — in 2026, midfielder Nguyen Thi Tuyet Dung avoided the camera due to shyness, and I sat for 45 minutes talking with her about late dinners after training sessions. That story, later, far exceeded any achievement statistics that 24-year-old could produce on the football field. For James Ethan Ang, Jovin Tan, Theresa Goh, and the other 17 athletes in Singapore's delegation, I believe the same will happen — human stories will live forever, while records are just temporary numbers on an electronic display. Aichi-Nagoya 2026, with approximately 3,000 para athletes from 18 countries and territories, will be the largest stage of the year for Asian para sports. The Singapore team arrives there with 20 people, carrying different journeys — some going to find medals, some going to find recognition, and some simply going to be present. But regardless of their goals, each step they take on the track in Japan this October is an affirmation that: we are not just present, we belong here. When the stadium is empty, ordinary voices suddenly become leaders. And that, in my view, is what is most worth watching at Aichi-Nagoya — not the scoreboard, but the people behind it.