The Golden Generation and Its Oversized Shadow: Vietnamese Football Faces an Identity Crisis

Kazan, the night of June 27, 2026. I sat in a small café by the Volga River, my phone vibrating endlessly. Germany had just lost 0-2 to South Korea, the defending World Cup champions eliminated in the group stage. I had written a 'hot take' before the tournament claiming Germany would win with Joachim Löw's 3-4-2-1 formation. My article was now being mocked across forums. I turned off my phone, walked along the river for two hours, wondering if I had been idealizing tactics. The next morning, I wrote a 2,000-word reflection: 'Germany did not die from a lack of ideas; they died from the arrogance of an old system.'

That lesson has stayed with me for six years, and it has never haunted me more than when I look at Vietnamese football today. Because I realize: we are complacent with ourselves, and we don't even know it.

When I left Saigon in 2026 to study sports journalism in England, Vietnamese football had just endured a dark decade. The national team struggled in Asian Cup qualifying, the V-League was mired in match-fixing scandals, and the stands of provincial stadiums were empty. No one could have imagined that just three years later, the entire country would erupt in Hanoi night when Quang Hai curled a free kick into the top corner against Jordan in the 2026 Asian Cup round of 16.

I watched that match on television at a pub in Liverpool, among Everton fans looking at me with curiosity. When Quang Hai's ball bent into the top corner, I screamed until my voice cracked. An elderly Liverpool man patted my shoulder: 'Girl, who's playing?' I said: 'Vietnam.' He raised an eyebrow: 'Where's that?' I didn't answer. I just smiled, knowing that in that moment, an entire nation of 90 million people was dancing, and no one in this pub understood what it meant.

But today, as I sit down to write this article, I no longer feel that elation. I feel a deep concern. Because six years after that magical night, Vietnamese football is facing an identity crisis that few dare to look at directly.

The Golden Generation: A Gift and a Trap

Let's talk about the golden generation. Quang Hai, Cong Phuong, Van Hau, Van Duc, Duy Manh, Tien Dung, Trong Hoang, Van Lam. These names have become symbols of a golden era that Vietnamese football has never had before. They won the 2026 AFF Championship, reached the quarter-finals of the 2026 Asian Cup, won SEA Games gold in 2026 and 2026, and won the 2026 AFF Championship. They gave Vietnamese fans sleepless nights, tears of happiness, and most importantly, a belief that Vietnamese football could compete with Asia's best.

But I have followed football long enough to know that golden generations often mask structural cracks beneath. When a team relies on a group of exceptional players to achieve success, they tend to forget about building a sustainable youth development system. This doesn't only happen in Vietnam - it happens everywhere in the world. Croatia reached the 2026 World Cup final with the generation of Modric, Rakitic, Mandzukic, but then went through a prolonged crisis as that generation aged. Belgium had a 'golden generation' of Hazard, De Bruyne, Lukaku, but they never won a major trophy, and now they face decline.

Vietnam's problem is not that the golden generation has aged. The problem is that we have not seriously prepared for the next generation. And when I say 'we', I don't just mean the Vietnam Football Federation (VFF) or the clubs. I mean an entire ecosystem - from the youth development system, to the domestic league, to the way we think about football.

From Troussier to Kim Sang-sik: Change That Doesn't Solve the Root

Philippe Troussier came to Vietnam in 2026 with the reputation of a reformer. He had led Japan to the round of 16 at the 2026 World Cup, and he was expected to bring a modern football philosophy to Vietnam. Troussier announced he would rejuvenate the team, replace the golden generation, and build a Japanese-style possession-based game.

I followed Vietnam's matches under Troussier with particular interest. In the friendly against Iraq in October 2026, I noticed something interesting: Vietnam tried to play possession football, but they lacked the confidence to escape pressing. The defenders passed the ball around at the back, but whenever they were pressed, they either passed back to the goalkeeper or hoofed the ball forward in a disorganized manner. This showed that implementing a new football philosophy is not simply about giving orders to players - it requires a synchronized youth development system from the grassroots level.

Troussier only had 18 months to implement his revolution. He was sacked after Vietnam's failure at the 2026 AFF Championship, winning only one match against Laos and losing to Indonesia in the group stage. That result was a shock to fans, but to me, it was not surprising. You cannot build a football philosophy in 18 months. You need at least 5-10 years to train a generation of players who understand that philosophy.

Kim Sang-sik, a South Korean, was appointed to replace Troussier in early 2026. He is an experienced coach in the K-League, having won the Asian Champions League with Jeonbuk Hyundai Motors. But the question is: is Kim Sang-sik the solution to Vietnamese football's structural problems? Or is he just a temporary patch on a deep wound?

V-League: Where Dreams Die Slowly

According to data I have collected over multiple seasons, the V-League has significantly fewer matches than other top Southeast Asian leagues. The 2026-2026 season had only 20 rounds, while the Thai League has 30. This means Vietnamese players only play about 25-30 matches per season (including the national cup), while Thai players play 40-50. This difference has a huge impact on player development - you cannot improve your skills if you don't play regularly at high intensity.

I remember a conversation with an English scout who had worked in Southeast Asia. He told me: 'Vietnamese players have good technique, but they are not used to high-intensity matches. After the 70th minute, they start losing concentration and making mistakes they wouldn't make at the 30th minute.' This comment reminded me of the 2026 AFF Championship final, where Vietnam led Thailand 2-1 in the first leg but were overturned 2-3 in the second leg in Bangkok. In the second half of the return leg, Vietnamese players looked like they were running through fog - they couldn't maintain pressing intensity, and their midfield was torn apart by Thailand.

The problem is not just the number of matches. The problem is also the quality of those matches. The V-League has a large gap in quality between teams. Clubs like Hanoi FC and Cong An Hanoi (CAHN) have large budgets and recruit quality foreign players, while clubs like Khanh Hoa or Da Nang struggle with tight budgets. When a strong team meets a weak team, the match often ends 4-0 or 5-0, and no one learns anything from it.

The Gap Between Aspiration and Reality

What worries me most is not the results, but the gap between what we think about Vietnamese football and what is actually happening. On social media, Vietnamese fans still talk about the 'World Cup dream' with fierce belief. Articles still write about the 'enormous potential' of Vietnamese football. But when I look at the data, I see a completely different picture.

Look at the results of Vietnam's youth teams in recent years. The U23 team failed to advance from the group stage at the 2026 Asian U23 Championship. The U20 team failed to qualify for the U20 World Cup. The U17 team failed at the U17 Asian qualifying round. Meanwhile, Thailand, Indonesia and Malaysia are investing heavily in youth football. Indonesia, with a population of nearly 280 million, has built a national football academy and recruited many Dutch-born players. They reached the semi-finals of the 2026 Asian Cup and are developing rapidly.

I'm not saying Vietnam has no young talent. I have watched U19 Vietnam matches and I see some very promising players. But talent alone is not enough. You need a system to nurture that talent - and our system is breaking down.

Lessons from England

When I came to England in 2026, I witnessed a revolution in English football. After the disastrous 2026 World Cup (eliminated in the group stage), the Football Association (FA) implemented a comprehensive reform of the youth development system. They built the 'Elite Player Performance Plan' (EPPP) in 2026, a plan investing £320 million into club academies. They changed the way young players are selected, focusing on individual technical development rather than win-loss results at youth level. They built a unified playing philosophy from U15 to the national team.

The results of this reform did not come immediately. England still failed at Euro 2026 and the 2026 World Cup (although reaching the semi-finals). But by Euro 2026, they reached the final. And at the 2026 World Cup, they reached the quarter-finals. The current England team has an excellent generation of young players - Jude Bellingham, Bukayo Saka, Phil Foden, Declan Rice - all products of the reformed youth system. The FA took 10 years to rebuild the foundation. They were patient. They didn't expect immediate results.

I wonder: does Vietnamese football have that patience?

When the Stands Are Empty, They Know More Than Full Stands

In 2026, during the COVID-19 pandemic, I witnessed Liverpool win the Premier League in an empty stadium. No street celebrations, no fans at Anfield. I wrote an article about 'A championship that didn't hear the cheers, but heard the sigh of relief of an entire city.' That article got 500,000 views, and it taught me a valuable lesson: sometimes, silence speaks louder than noise.

I think about this when I look at Vietnamese football. During the golden generation's successful years, the stands were always full, articles were always praising, and no one asked difficult questions. But when the team failed at the 2026 AFF Championship, silence enveloped everything. No deep tactical debates, no structural analysis, no discussions about the future. Only silence - and that silence says that we don't know what to say.

I go to the stadium not to witness victory, but to understand why people hug and cry. And I have learned that defeats often tell us more than victories. The 0-3 loss to Indonesia at the 2026 AFF Championship was not just a bad result - it was a warning that we are falling behind.

The Numbers Speak

Let's look at the numbers. According to data from Transfermarkt, the total market value of Vietnamese players in the V-League is about €12 million. Compared to Thailand (€25 million), Indonesia (€18 million) and Malaysia (€15 million), we are falling behind. More worrying is the trend: the market value of Vietnamese players is declining year by year, while Thai and Indonesian players' values are rising.

Another number that worries me: the number of Vietnamese players playing abroad. Currently, only one Vietnamese player is playing in Europe - Nguyen Van Toan, who plays for a second-division club in South Korea. Meanwhile, Thailand has many players in Japan, South Korea and Europe. Indonesia has many players in the Netherlands, Belgium and other European leagues. The lack of players going abroad not only affects the national team's quality, but also affects young players' development - they have no role models to follow.

Structural Problem, Not a People Problem

I often hear Vietnamese fans blaming the coach when the team fails. Troussier was sacked, Park Hang-seo was celebrated, Kim Sang-sik is being criticized. But I think blaming the coach is a way of avoiding responsibility of the entire system. A good coach can make a difference in a match, but he cannot change an entire weak youth development system in just a few months.

Park Hang-seo succeeded with Vietnam because he understood the strengths of the golden generation and built a playing style that suited them. He didn't try to impose a modern football philosophy on players trained in traditional ways. He built a solid defensive-counterattacking style, utilizing the speed and technique of Quang Hai, Cong Phuong and Van Duc. But when that generation aged, no one inherited that style, and Troussier - who tried to completely change the philosophy - failed because he didn't have enough time and didn't have enough suitable players.

Your Heroes Are Not Immortal; That's the Cruelest Gift of This Game

Quang Hai is 28 this year. Cong Phuong is 30. Van Hau is 26. They are no longer at their peak. Quang Hai went through a difficult period at Pau FC in France before returning to Vietnam to play for Cong An Hanoi. Cong Phuong struggled in Japan and South Korea before returning. Van Hau has suffered many injuries and is no longer himself.

I'm not saying this generation is finished. They can still contribute to the national team for another year or two. But we need to face the truth: the golden generation is in its twilight, and we don't have a next generation ready to replace them.

In a room full of men talking about tactics, I hear the shattering of a dream. It is the dream of a new generation, a generation properly trained, playing in high-quality leagues, equipped with modern tactical knowledge. That dream has not yet come true.

What Needs to Change?

I don't have all the answers. But based on 16 years of observing world football and 10 years of following Vietnamese football from afar, I believe there are three things that need to change immediately.

First, we need to invest seriously in the youth development system. Not empty promises, but concrete investments. The FA spent £320 million on EPPP. Thailand built a national football academy with a multi-million dollar budget. Indonesia is investing heavily in youth academies across the country. Vietnam needs to do the same - not just in big cities, but also in small provinces where there is potential football talent.

Second, we need to increase the number of high-quality matches for young players. The V-League has only 20 rounds - too few. We need to expand the league, or create high-quality youth leagues, so young players can play more regularly. We also need to encourage players to go abroad, not by forcing them, but by creating an environment for them to develop.

Third, we need to change the way we think about football. We cannot expect immediate results. Building a strong football nation takes time - 5 years, 10 years, even 20 years. We need patience and a long-term plan, not constant changes every time the team fails.

When the Stands Are Empty, the Ball Tells Me Things the Crowd Cannot

I went to My Dinh Stadium on a March 2026 afternoon, when Vietnam played a friendly against a Middle Eastern team. The stands had only about 15,000 people - a modest number compared to the big matches of the golden generation. But I saw things the crowd couldn't see.

I saw young players on the pitch - 20, 21 years old - trying to prove themselves. I saw anxiety in their eyes, the lack of confidence in their passes. I saw a team searching for its identity, trying to escape the shadow of the golden generation.

I also saw something else. I saw young fans in the stands - people who may never have witnessed the historic victories over Jordan or Malaysia. They came to the stadium because they love football, because they believe in the team. They don't compare the current team to the golden generation. They just want to watch their team play.

And I realized that, perhaps, we are being too harsh on ourselves. Perhaps we are comparing the current team to beautiful memories of the past, and we forget that football is a process - not a destination.

Silence Is a Language; Only Those Who Have Stood in an Empty Stadium Understand It

I have stood in empty stadiums many times in my career. I witnessed Liverpool win the title in an empty stadium. I witnessed V-League matches with only a few hundred spectators. And I have learned that silence can say a lot.

The silence of My Dinh Stadium in that March 2026 friendly said that fans are losing faith. Not because they don't love football - but because they no longer believe the team can bring them moments of happiness like the golden generation once did.

But I also heard something else in that silence. I heard a promise - that we will rebuild from the ashes. That we will not repeat the mistakes of the past. That we will be more patient, smarter, and more strategic.

The Future Is Uncertain, But Not Hopeless

I cannot predict the future of Vietnamese football. I don't know if we can reach the World Cup in the next 10 years. I don't know if the next generation can match the golden generation. But I know one thing: if we don't change our approach, if we continue to blame the coach every time we fail, if we continue to lack patience and long-term vision, then we will forever be stuck in a cycle of disappointment.

Football never owes you a happy ending. That is true even for the greatest teams in the world. But football also always gives you a chance to start again. Each new season is a new opportunity. Each new generation is a new hope.

I will continue to follow Vietnamese football, not as a passionate fan, but as an observer - someone who has learned that defeats often teach us more than victories. And I hope that, one day, we will look back at this difficult period and say: that was when we started rebuilding.

Because in the end, what matters most is not trophies or victories. What matters most is what we learn from our failures, and how we use those lessons to build a better future.

That is what I learned from that night in Kazan in 2026, when I watched the defending world champions eliminated from the World Cup. Germany did not die from a lack of ideas. They died from the arrogance of an old system. And if we are not careful, Vietnamese football could die for the same reason.

But we still have time. We still have a chance. The only question is: do we have the courage to face the truth and start rebuilding from scratch?