Vietnamese football after the 2026 AFF Cup title: The next generation and the race for every minute

On the evening of January 5, 2026, at My Dinh National Stadium, the final whistle of the second leg of the 2026 AFF Mitsubishi Electric Cup had barely faded when Nguyen Xuan Son knelt down on the wet grass. In an instant, tens of thousands of supporters erupted. The screen showed a 3-2 win and a 5-3 aggregate victory for Vietnam. Fans poured into the streets of Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, waving red flags with yellow stars. It was a night written with tears of joy, hugs and hoarse voices singing from motorcycles.

I watched that match from a small room in Incheon, just as I have watched thousands of matches over 47 years. At 63, I do not count trophies. I count the stories that remain after the lights go off. The real story begins when the stadium lights dim. Everyone looked at the cup; I looked at the tunnel, where young substitutes took off their jackets and stepped out to celebrate with their seniors. The next generation of Vietnamese football were only shadows behind that golden moment, but they are the longest story of this football nation.

The 2026 AFF Cup was not born from nothing. Vietnam overcame a tense group stage, eliminated Singapore in the semi-final, and beat Thailand in a highly anticipated final. Quang Hai, Hoang Duc, Tien Linh and Xuan Son formed a winning generation. Yet tactically, that title raised more questions than answers. Vietnam has won Southeast Asia in different cycles: 2026 with Cong Vinh under Henrique Calisto; 2026 with Quang Hai, Duy Manh and Van Hau under Park Hang-seo; and 2026 with Xuan Son, Tien Linh and Hoang Duc under Kim Sang-sik. The key question is never who won, but which generation will write the next chapter.

Over the last three seasons, I have tracked the playing time of under-23 players in V-League. I do not use expected goals or possession to measure a football nation's health. For me, the most honest metric of succession is the total number of competitive minutes given to young players. A young player needs to start matches, to face towering foreign forwards, to read the game in a tense derby atmosphere, and to make mistakes at a less costly time. An academy can produce technical skill, but only a high-level competitive environment can produce decision-making and composure. Looking at Vietnam's current U22 generation, I see great talent waiting at the door. That door will only open when clubs believe youth development is also a strategy.

I have seen many skilled young players with no way out. They train with the first team, enter at minute 75, make two safe passes, then sit on the bench for weeks. Nguyen Dinh Bac, Khue Van Khang, Nguyen Thai Son, Bui Vi Hao and many others have physical and technical qualities that previous generations lacked. But talent grows only when constantly tested in a harsh environment. V-League is far more competitive than youth tournaments, and that harshness is the best teacher. In the matches I followed, under-23 players tended to be substituted early or kept on the bench when the team was under pressure. As a result, they grow up in calm training environments without enough real-game experience. When they reach the national team, they face life-or-death matches without a thick enough foundation of experience.

I once lived in Brazil and watched children play football on the streets before joining big academies. But I know the Brazilian model cannot simply be copied in Vietnam. What I want to mention is not street culture but mechanism. In South Korea where I live, K-League clubs must deal with a rule regarding young-player minutes or face substitutes at reserve level. That rule was controversial, but it created a legal corridor forcing clubs to think beyond immediate results. Vietnam does not need to copy Korea exactly, but it needs some kind of commitment, whether from the federation, the league organiser or the clubs themselves. If each club gave one under-23 player an average starting spot per match, Vietnam would gain a generation of experienced players within three or four seasons.

Vietnam's youth football has already built encouraging foundations. Academies such as PVF and Nutifood JMG have produced players with much better tactical discipline than before. The National U21 Championship has also been organised more professionally. But the bottleneck is not early training; it is the link between youth football and elite football. A 20-year-old who plays only about a dozen matches a year in youth tournaments will struggle to compete with a 27-year-old who has nearly 200 V-League matches in his legs. The number of competitive games a nation gives to its young players is the total capital accumulated for the future. That capital cannot be replaced by training sessions or short overseas trips.

There is a romantic belief that young players will shine automatically once given the chance. I do not believe that unconditionally. Opportunity must come with pressure at the right time, proper guidance, and an environment that allows failure. A young player coming on at minute 88 when the team is winning 3-0 does not learn as much as one who starts and is substituted at minute 60 in a tense match. Clubs should also view youth development as a sustainable investment, just like building facilities or medical teams. A player raised by the club stays longer, understands its culture more deeply, and can generate a much greater transfer value than the cost of training him.

I want to offer a contrarian view. Winning the 2026 AFF Cup is precious for morale, but it can also create a false sense of security. Success of the national team is the coming together of an experienced generation, a coaching staff that understands their players, and a bit of luck at the right moment. The health of the whole football ecosystem is measured over time and through squad depth. Those two lines can meet at one tournament, but they never fully overlap in the long run. Winning Southeast Asia makes people more comfortable, and that comfort can easily delay necessary reforms. My warning to Vietnamese football is simple: do not measure progress through one short tournament; look at how many minutes young players are getting at domestic level.

In football, the sparkle of a trophy often blinds people to weaknesses that have existed for a long time. But snow on the peak of glory is like truth: light, silent, and it covers every legend. I do not deny the value of the championship. I only want to say that the greatest value of a title is that it buys time to build the next thing. If Vietnam uses this cup as a boost to invest more strongly in its young players, the next generation will appear on time. If the cup is used as proof that everything is fine, then difficulties will come quickly at the SEA Games or Asian qualifiers.

An empty stadium taught me that the loudest applause is the applause inside the heart of someone who still believes. I believe in the young players waiting in the My Dinh tunnel that night. Their story has not been written yet, because it can only be written with real minutes on the pitch. An era does not die because of a loss; it dies when people stop telling its story. If we only keep telling the 2026 title story without giving the next generation real matches, the main characters of the future will remain shadows in a winning frame. Let them step into the light. The real match of Vietnamese football begins now.