Winter at My Dinh: When the World Cup Dream Waits for a Nudge from the Very People Who Call It a Dream

There are nights when My Dinh Stadium is still lit, but the shouts from the stands have dwindled in a way that is hard to explain. I have lost count of how many times I have sat in the press cabin on B2 floor of the national stadium, listened to the loudspeakers announce the pre-match rituals, and waited for a moment that would make me pull out my recorder in a hurry. On the night of November 15, 2026, I sat there once again. Vietnam vs Laos, AFC Asian Cup 2027 qualifier. The East Stand was emptier than I expected. A small group of red-shirted fans stood scattered in Block B7, singing but not powerful enough to fill the vast emptiness of 40,000 seats. On the pitch, the players ran as if they were training. No fire. No such thing as a 'night of Vietnamese football.' I turned on my recorder, not because of the shouts, but because of that silence itself. Because sometimes, people do not remember the score — people remember why they did not leave the bar, but here, I remember why a football-loving nation sat still.

But I did not come to My Dinh that night to complain. I came to understand.

Over the past ten years, I have attended at least 47 matches of the Vietnamese national team, at various levels, in various moments, in various atmospheres. I sat at Rajamangala (Bangkok) on the night Thailand beat Vietnam 2-0 in 2026. I stood in the rain at Shah Alam when the U23 team worked an AFF 2026 miracle. I cried in the press cabin during the 2026 World Cup, watching a small screen in Osaka with Cong Phuong, Van Toan, Quang Hai — faces so familiar that I could remember their shirt numbers from ten years ago. And now I sit here, 49 years old, with my old recorder, asking a question I do not want to hear the answer to: Where is Vietnamese football heading?

Context is not the result, but the process

If you look at the FIFA rankings in November 2026, Vietnam stands at 114, down 4 places from the same period a year earlier. That figure, standing alone, is just a small line in the sports news. But if you place it next to a 12-match winless streak at home since the beginning of 2026, a 5-match stretch with only 3 goals scored, and 3 different managers in 18 months — that figure begins to take shape.

It needs to be said straight: Vietnamese football is not in freefall. It is falling along a trajectory that the football people themselves have not fully understood.

In the 2026-2026 period, we had a golden cycle: AFF Cup 2026, Asian Cup 2026 (round of 16), SEA Games gold 2026, World Cup 2026 qualifiers (first time reaching round 3). All those achievements came from a golden generation that the press called the 'golden generation' — Quang Hai, Cong Phuong, Van Hau, Dang Van Lam, Bui Tien Dung, Ha Duc Chinh. This generation was trained by the VFF system, led by coach Park Hang-seo, and connected by a collective psychological wave that we might call the 'Southeast Asian dream.'

That dream was real. But it had no foundation to stand on. It was a fever, and fevers, eventually, subside.

Core 1: Tactics have stood still while world football has changed

I have a habit: recording the tactical formations of the Vietnamese national team across matches over 5 years. When I opened my notebook in 2026, I noticed something suspicious: the Vietnamese team still plays 3-4-3 or 5-4-1 with variations of high pressing, low pressing, counter-attacking defense — exactly as Park Hang-seo established in 2026. Meanwhile, Japan has shifted to flexible 4-2-3-1, Korea has implemented build-up systems from goalkeeper, Australia has moved to mixed formations, Thailand has begun full-pitch pressing in the Guardiola model since Polking.

World football does not stand still. But the Vietnamese national team — through 4 managers (Park, Troussier, transition period, Kim Sang-sik) — basically still plays a tactical framework that should have been refined continuously.

I do not blame anyone specifically. But this is what I see clearly when sitting in the stands:

First, the transition problem. In the match against Laos on the evening of November 15, the Vietnamese team switched from defense to attack at an average of 4.2 seconds — 0.8 seconds slower than at Asian Cup 2026. For a team whose main weapon is counter-attack, every 0.1 second of delay means the opponent has already organized their defense. That is why we have more counter-attacks ending with inaccurate long-range shots instead of vertical through-balls as before.

Second, the vertical passing problem. Statistics show that the Vietnamese team's forward passing rate in 2026 is only 52% — down 8% from 2026. The team still passes sideways, still passes backward, still relies on long aerial balls. That is a sign of a team that no longer trusts its short passing ability to break through.

Third, the collective pressing problem. PPDA (Passes Per Defensive Action) — a metric measuring pressing intensity — of the Vietnamese team in 2026 is 14.7, meaning the opponent can pass an average of 14.7 times before being challenged. Japan's number is 9.2, Korea's is 10.4, Australia's is 11.8. We are pressing weaker than even Southeast Asian teams like Thailand (PPDA 12.5) or Indonesia (PPDA 11.3). But more importantly, PPDA is not everything — it only shows we press less, not that we press ineffectively. And that is the biggest blind spot of the current team: we press little, press late, and press without coordination between lines.

I used to think these numbers were secondary. But looking back at the last 5 matches, 4 of them the team allowed the opponent to create more than 15 chances, I understand: tactics are not a matter of blackboard drawings, but of what happens on the pitch. And on the pitch, we are out of step.

Core 2: The player ecosystem is eroding

There is a truth that few dare to say straight: the generation of players born 2026-2026 has passed its peak. Quang Hai, though only 27, has shown signs of recurring injuries and unstable form at CAHN. Cong Phuong, 29, still plays but is no longer the game-changing player. Van Hau, 25, is battling a knee injury and has never reached his peak since the injury at Heerenveen. Dang Van Lam, 31, is in Japan but not playing regularly.

The question is not 'who replaces them' — because no one can replace them so simply — but 'how much has the training system prepared for this gap?'

The answer, honestly, is not much.

I spent 3 days at the PVF Youth Football Training Center (Phu Tho) in October. I watched the youth teams from U15 to U19 play internal matches. There are some good players. There are some notable names. But compared to 2026-2026, the number of youth players with national team potential has clearly decreased. Why? I think there are three factors.

First factor: V-League clubs are no longer training grounds. Previously, clubs like HAGL, SLNA, Binh Duong, and Hanoi FC were training grounds that produced national team players. Now, many clubs only focus on foreign players, hire foreign players seasonally, and consider youth training a cost burden. According to VFF's 2026 report, only 4 out of 14 V-League clubs maintain AFC-standard youth training systems: Hanoi FC, HAGL, SLNA, and SHB Da Nang. The remaining 10 clubs either train below standard, outsource training, or do not train at all.

Second factor: private academies cannot replace the role of clubs. PVF, Viettel Football Academy, HAGL JMG — these names are all very good. But they only produce a limited number of players, and their products often lean toward individual technique without tactical depth. A technically skilled player who does not understand pressing, does not understand transition, does not understand defensive roles — will only be a good player in V-League, not a national team-caliber player.

Third factor: brain drain abroad is no longer outward flow. Previously, we dreamed of Vietnamese players going to Japan, Korea, Europe. Now, the number of Vietnamese players playing abroad in FIFA-standard leagues has dropped to 11 (as of November 2026), compared to 18 in 2026. Dang Van Lam in Japan is not a regular starter. Cong Phuong's return from Ligue 2 was unsuccessful. Van Hau was never really stable in the Netherlands. Xuan Truong, Tuan Anh — players we expected to go far — both returned to V-League.

This is a problem with no quick solution. And I say honestly: without a real root-level reform, we will have to live with the national team lacking personnel in 5-7 positions for at least the next 4-5 years.

Core 3: V-League has not escaped the cycle of instability

The 2026/25 V-League season — the 30th season of Vietnam's top flight — has passed nearly a third of its journey. But if anyone asks me 'What is changing in V-League,' I will have to think for a moment before answering.

A few bright spots: CAHN (formerly Hanoi FC) has won two consecutive championships in 2026 and 2026 with what is reportedly a superior budget. They have quality domestic players, a foreign coach (Kiatisuk Senamuang), good facilities. But CAHN's dominance creates another problem: V-League lacks competitiveness. Hanoi Club (separated from old Hanoi FC) is also strong. Nam Dinh invests heavily. But the gap between the top group and the middle group is widening.

The financial story is still a difficult problem. Many clubs owe players' wages. Hai Phong Club once owed 6 months of wages. Da Nang Club once had a time when they could not afford to pay for training grounds. TP.HCM Club has gone through multiple owners with unclear strategies. And although VPF has worked to improve broadcasting rights, revenue from broadcasting is still only about 60-80 billion VND per season — too low compared to J-League (about 1,200 billion VND equivalent), K-League (about 800 billion VND equivalent), or even Thai League (about 200 billion VND equivalent).

Without finance, there is no good youth training. Without good youth training, there are no good players. Without good players, there are no attractive leagues. Without attractive leagues, there are no broadcasting rights. This vicious cycle has revolved around Vietnamese football for over 20 years, and shows no sign of stopping.

I sat with a V-League club CEO (name withheld) at a coffee shop in HCMC last September. He said outright: 'We are running a systematic loss-making operation. We know that. But we still have to do it because it is the only way to keep the club alive, keep the brand, and create intangible value.' I had no answer. I only had a running recorder.

Core 4: Fans — the forgotten protagonists

There is a detail I always remember in my articles: fans are not passive spectators, they are part of the match. And this is what Vietnamese football is seriously neglecting.

I have been to many bars in Osaka watching Vietnamese national team matches with the Vietnamese community. I have been to coffee shops with large TVs in Saigon, Hanoi, Da Nang. I have sat among migrant workers, heard them sing the national anthem with choked voices, heard them shout at long-range shots from 19-year-old players no one knows by name. I have seen tears roll down the faces of 40-50 year old men when the home team lost. I have heard curses, sighs, and laughter exploding when goals came.

But I have also seen the gaps.

My Dinh's stand on the night of November 15 was not full. That is not because Vietnamese fans have stopped loving football. It is because they have lost faith. They have lost faith in the national team fighting. They have lost faith in the coaching staff finding the best lineup. They have lost faith in VFF having a long-term vision. And when faith is lost, the stands empty. It is that simple.

There is a bitter truth that Vietnamese football administrators need to face: fans do not owe football. Football owes fans. They have supported the national team for 20 years. They have spent money on tickets, jerseys, broadcasting rights. They have given time, emotion, and even tears for players they do not even know by name. And what do they get back? A team that has not won at home for a year. A V-League full of instability. A system lacking transparency.

I remember writing an article after the Vietnam-Thailand World Cup 2026 qualifier, when Vietnam lost 0-1 at My Dinh. There was an elderly man about 70 years old sitting in Block B3, wearing a red shirt with a gold star, holding a small flag, his eyes red when the referee blew the final whistle. He told me: 'My child, I have watched Vietnamese football since 2026. I have witnessed many things. But I have never seen a generation of players whose national team plays like they do not want to win.' I could not answer. I only recorded. And to this day, I still keep that recording.

Core 5: VFF and the governance equation

The Vietnam Football Federation (VFF) faces many challenges, but perhaps the biggest challenge is governance.

During the 2026-2026 term under Chairman Le Khanh Hai, VFF achieved many notable accomplishments. But from 2026 onwards, after Mr. Hai resigned, VFF has gone through many changes: some vice chairmen resigned, some executive committee members changed, and most importantly — a long-term football development strategy has not been clearly announced.

The Vietnamese football development strategy to 2030, vision 2045 was announced in 2026, but to date, many of its objectives have not been implemented or have been implemented ineffectively. For example, the goal of bringing the national team into the FIFA top 100 by 2030 is currently very far away — we are at position 114. The goal of developing 50 AFC-standard youth training centers — to date there are only 18. The goal of building V-League into one of the top 5 Southeast Asian leagues — we are at 3rd or 4th position, behind Thai League and Malaysia Super League.

I do not want to turn this article into an indictment. VFF is a complex organization, with many factors, many interests, many pressures. But what I want to say — and I say it as someone who has observed VFF from the outside for 20 years — is that VFF needs a real governance reform. Not personnel reform, but mindset reform. Reform in decision-making. Reform in dialogue with clubs, with fans, with the media.

Football is not politics. But it is also not purely a business. It is a combination of both, and we are missing that combination.

The blind spot: Why Vietnamese football cannot leap forward

I have heard many people say: 'Vietnamese football needs a push' — a push from a star, a tournament, a coach, an investment. But I think this is a wrong way of looking at it. Football is not an explosion. Football is a process. And that process requires patience, consistency, and above all — honesty.

I have no ill will toward anyone. But I also have no reason to sugarcoat the truth. The truth is that Vietnamese football is standing still while regional competitors have overtaken us. Indonesia has a better youth generation — they have won U16 Southeast Asia, U19 Southeast Asia, and are having players in the Netherlands, Belgium, Spain. Thailand has a more complete youth league system — they have Thai League 1, 2, 3, 4 and youth tournaments modeled on Japan. Malaysia has a cooperation program with UEFA. The Philippines has naturalized a wave of quality players.

We are not lacking talent. We are not lacking money. We are not lacking ambition. But we are lacking something I temporarily call 'collective long-term discipline.' We often start well, but leave unfinished. We often have vision, but lack concrete action. We often talk about change, but fear real change.

Contrarian: Perhaps we are looking at the problem wrong

I want to say something that may upset many people: perhaps the problem of Vietnamese football is not lack of money, lack of players, lack of coaches, or lack of broadcasting rights.

Perhaps the problem is that we look at football as a competition — and forget that football is a culture.

Japanese football is not the Japanese national team. Japanese football is an entire ecosystem: from elementary schools to amateur leagues, from local clubs to J-League, from loyal fans to long-term sponsors. That ecosystem was built over 30 years, and no one can replicate it with just an administrative decision.

Korean football is the same. They have had K-League since 2026, training systems since the 1990s, and connections between clubs and local communities from very early on. The Korean national team succeeded because that ecosystem was ready.

We are trying to build a strong national team on a weak ecosystem. And that is a paradox I think no one has satisfactorily resolved.

Perhaps we need to start from small things: from an artificial turf pitch in a poor commune, from a mass football tournament in a district, from a coaching course for children in remote areas. Perhaps we need to build an ecosystem, not a national team.

I know this sounds very idealistic. And I know it does not solve the immediate problem. But if we keep solving the immediate problem without solving the root problem, we will repeat this cycle forever.

Next signal: What am I waiting for?

I am not an optimist. I have witnessed too many times Vietnamese football promising and disappointing. I have witnessed too many times us hoping and being let down.

But I still wait.

I wait for a clear strategy from VFF, not in the form of a 50-page document, but in the form of a verifiable commitment: in the next 2 years, what will we do? In the next 5 years, what will we achieve? Who is responsible if we do not achieve?

I wait for a new generation of young players — not a golden generation, but a properly trained generation, with tactical depth and professional mindset.

I wait for a V-League that fans can be proud of — not because clubs are rich, but because clubs have strategy, identity, and loyal communities.

And I wait for a night at My Dinh when the stands are full, not because tickets are cheap, but because fans believe the national team will fight for them.

I know these things may not come. But I still wait. Because at my age, people do not count titles; people count the nights when the whole city stays awake together.

I have waited like that in Osaka. I have waited in bars late at night, among Vietnamese migrant workers far from home, among the national anthem echoing from a small screen in a rented room. I waited through the World Cup 2026 nights when all of Osaka did not sleep. I waited through the SEA Games 2026 nights when the U22 team won gold, and the whole nation erupted.

And I will continue to wait. Because that is how football tells its story to me: not through goals, but through sleepless nights.

The rhythm of a team is not in the players' feet, but in the shared heartbeat of the whole city. And my city — the city of Vietnamese football lovers — is still waiting for a new heartbeat.