Beyond the Glare: Vietnamese Football and the Unanswered Questions

If there is one moment I would freeze in the memory of Vietnamese football, it is not the moment the trophy was lifted. It is the look on the face of a substitute sitting on the bench, eyes welling up as he watched his teammates celebrate. In that look, I could see a long journey, quiet months of training, silent injuries, and the fear of being forgotten. The ASEAN Cup 2026 triumph brought immense joy to millions of fans, but for me, it was also a time to ask serious questions about the future of football in our country. People often say a title can hide a decade of crisis. That is true for Vietnamese football, but only for a moment. When the stage lights go out, when the congratulations fade, football managers must face a bare reality: the national team is only the tip of the iceberg. The submerged part is the youth development system, the infrastructure, the coaching capacity, and the long-term strategy. If the foundation is not reinforced, the visible part can collapse at any time. The journey to the championship under coach Kim Sang-sik was a story of adaptation and courage. Unlike previous ASEAN Cup campaigns, Vietnam did not dominate possession from the start. They accepted a deeper defensive block, then used the speed of their wingers to launch sharp counter-attacks. This tactical flexibility was the most commendable point. However, a closer look reveals a squad still lacking perfect cohesion. The role of Nguyen Xuan Son cannot be denied. The naturalized striker brought a fresh dimension to the attack, not only through goalscoring but also through hold-up play, link-up work, and stretching opposition defences. Alongside him, Nguyen Tien Linh showed intelligent movement, while Nguyen Hoang Duc operated as the heart of midfield, regulating the tempo. But relying on a few individuals will not take Vietnamese football far. Strong teams always have squad depth, and that is what we seriously lack. Fitness is another painful issue. Many key players have faced congested schedules for both club and country over many years. The result is repeated injuries, unexplained dips in form, and the early decline of highly promising talents. I still remember afternoons spent watching youth training sessions, seeing eighteen and nineteen-year-olds pushed into matches beyond the tolerance of their bodies. They were celebrated as stars, but no one protected them from that very expectation. Nguyen Dinh Bac is a typical example. The talent is real, but amid the whirlwind of fame, fixtures, and media pressure, this young player has sometimes lost himself. What will happen to Khue Van Khang and Bui Vi Hao? They could become mainstays of the national team in five years, or they could become forgotten talents, like many before them. The problem is not talent; it is the development environment. A young player needs regular playing time, coaches who protect fitness and psychology, and a pathway suited to physical growth. Tactically, I want to add a point many overlook. In the most important matches of the ASEAN Cup, Vietnam showed the ability to read the game and adjust tactics at different moments. They were not afraid to slow the tempo when protecting a lead. That may frustrate opponents, but in modern football, a big team must know how to win in every legitimate way. However, this also means we are not yet bold enough to play controlled football against teams of similar level. Without improvement in that area, surprises at continental tournaments will remain unlikely. Speaking of regional football, I have a certain admiration for Thailand. Despite being our traditional rivals, their football system offers many lessons. Their youth competitions continuously produce new generations. They lose one final, then return with another batch of quality players. Vietnamese football, by contrast, tends to rely on a single golden generation. When that generation fades, we need years to rebuild from the rubble. That is the vicious cycle we must break. A further issue is the lack of patience from fans and the media. Every defeat brings heavy criticism on players and coaches. Every promising display by a young player invites excessive praise, creating enormous pressure. I want to ask: why do we follow football? For beautiful images, for raw emotions, or only for results? If we care only about results, we will miss many wonderful aspects of this beautiful game. Vietnamese football stands at a historic crossroads. We have just won a major title, but that title does not guarantee a bright future by itself. It only matters if we turn it into a springboard for deep reform. The Vietnam Football Federation needs clear strategies for youth teams, coach education, and modern training centers. Clubs must change their development philosophy, prioritizing homegrown players over excessive reliance on foreigners. Fans need more patience, and the media need deeper perspectives instead of chasing sensational stories. I still remember the first time I truly felt the pull of football. I was fifty-two, late compared to many. Yet perhaps because of that lateness, I looked at the ball with greater respect. I witnessed historic matches, impossible goals, and tears of grown men on the pitch. I realized that age does not matter. What matters is how we connect with the game and with the people inside it. I once told a friend: the pitch is not only where the ball rolls, but where dreams land. For Vietnamese football, one dream just landed spectacularly. But many bigger dreams lie ahead. The dream of reaching a World Cup is not a fantasy, but touching it requires more than praise. We need action, strategy, and lessons from failure. It is time to stop gilding the past and face the shadows. It is time to accept that we are not yet a truly strong football nation, only a team that knows how to shine at the right moment. That humility will take us further. On that journey, I believe the true values of football – honesty, team spirit, and selfless passion – will be our guiding light. There may be quiet nights in empty stadiums, and there may be painful defeats, but what matters is that we do not lose ourselves. When the stadium is empty, I hear clearly the applause of years gone by. It is the applause of generations of players who gave everything, of hearts who loved football unconditionally. Let that flame keep burning. Let Vietnamese football write its own history, not only through trophies, but through people who rise after every fall.