Coach Mai Duc Chung: Boldly Give Young Players a Chance in Vietnam Women's Team

At the 89th minute of a 0-0 draw against Thailand at the 2026 Asian Games, Ngoc Minh Chuyen was brought on. About a minute later, the referee ended the match. Vietnam women's youngest player left the pitch without touching the ball again. I stood in the stands, watching her walk off, and remembered an evening in Shanghai when I stayed in the dressing room for two hours listening to a young striker talk about the pressure of scoring. Before the goal, after the goal, and between those two moments – a whole life flows through. For Vietnamese women's football, that moment is now the 2026 Asian Games, where generational transition is much discussed but rarely seen on the pitch. The 2026 Asian Games put Vietnam in Group E with Japan, Thailand, and Chinese Taipei. Coach Hoang Van Phuc's team lost to Japan, lost to Chinese Taipei, and only drew with Thailand, yet still reached the quarterfinals through a wildcard spot for the best third-placed team. Their quarterfinal opponent is China, a team that crushed Vietnam in a training camp before the tournament. The target was completed, but the manner raised more questions than answers. A team is not only about victories; it has its own heartbeat, and I am the one recording it. I have followed Vietnamese women's football through many Asian Games, from the days when Mai Duc Chung built a golden generation on compact defense, discipline, and counter-attacks. That generation has passed its peak. Many key players are gone, and older players still start because replacements are scarce. Mai Duc Chung knows that the team needs a personnel revolution, and he said it plainly: give young players a chance. But the story is not simply young versus old. Against Thailand, Hoang Van Phuc fielded many veterans and played cautiously even though the mood was relaxed and other results had already favored Vietnam. Fans expected a fresh, attacking performance; it never came. On the bench, Ngoc Minh Chuyen got about one minute, after having 30 seconds in a previous match. Based on my experience following matches, I can say that no young player can develop with thirty seconds or one minute on the pitch. That is not opportunity; it is an unfulfilled promise. The 3-4-3 system Phuc pursues is a modern idea. Three center-backs, four midfielders, three forwards – this is the football prevailing in Europe and Asia. But Vietnam lacks the personnel for it. Ngan Thi Van Su and Nguyen Thi Bich Thuy, two natural wingers, were pushed inside and became stuck. Nguyen Thi Thanh Nha, a natural striker, played as wing-back and could not push forward almost the whole match. This is a role-assignment problem, not a formation problem. The 3-4-3 revolution does not start with players, but with eyes that see far. Without that vision applied to people, the revolution stays on paper. The case of Nguyen Thi Hoa is telling. She was used in three matches in three different positions. One match center-back, one match midfielder, one match deep forward. A player shuffled that way reflects a team searching for a template, not executing a philosophy. The idea exists, but reality has not met expectations. In empty-stadium days, I hear the team's breath – and it still beats. But that beat is torn between the desire for renewal and the fear of paying with results. The rare bright spots were Nguyen Thi Truc Huong and Ngoc Minh Chuyen. Truc Huong held the ball and controlled midfield well in her short time. Minh Chuyen produced a breakthrough that troubled the Thai defense. But these were individual moments. Football is a team sport, and young players need to play together, to be allowed mistakes, to be trusted in a stable system. Thirty seconds and one minute are too little evidence for any conclusion. Expert Pham Hai Anh, a former assistant coach, said young players 'can play, it is not that they cannot'. In this context, that is a crucial statement. During a transition, the big question is not whether to give chances, but how. Bringing a young player on at minute 89 is like throwing someone into the sea without a life jacket. If you want them to swim, let them enter the water early, prepare them with skill and confidence. Otherwise, the call to play youth is just a slogan. From a contrarian view, the loss to Chinese Taipei is the most worrying signal, not the defeat to Japan or the draw with Thailand. Chinese Taipei has been considered below Vietnam in recent years. Losing to them suggests regional slippage, not just tactical issues. Fans may celebrate the quarterfinal ticket, but it came via a wildcard, not through convincing wins. Looking only at results means missing the real story on the pitch. Another hidden angle: the heavy training-camp defeat to China may have been used to frame the quarterfinal as a learning experience, not an evaluation. That reasoning has merit, but it creates a false comfort. If the whole team enters the match expecting that losing is acceptable as long as lessons are learned, the biggest lesson may be acceptance of defeat. There are trophies that cannot be lifted, yet they remain heavy in the heart – that is the title of those who stay. The quarterfinal will show whether Vietnam wants to stay and fight, or merely attend to learn. On youth development, a realistic view is needed. Developed football nations execute generational transitions over years, across youth teams, domestic leagues, and the national team. Vietnam is trying to do it in one tournament, without a full-strength squad, with a playing philosophy still forming. No one denies the necessity. But if we truly believe in it, we must be patient. A young player may not shine in her first match, yet become a pillar after five. Patience is the rarest luxury in football, and the most needed. Over the years, I have witnessed generational shifts across Asian teams. Japan's women went through a crisis after the 2026 world champions retired, and rebuilt from a young base. China dominated Asia, then fell, and still struggles to return. Vietnam is at the start of a long journey. Hoang Van Phuc did not create this crisis; he was tasked to overcome it. Mai Duc Chung and Pham Hai Anh both stand behind him, both urging youth opportunities. That is a rare consensus among experts. But consensus in words must become action on the pitch. I recall an afternoon in Shanghai, sitting with a young striker who had gone seven matches without scoring. He lacked neither skill nor determination; he lacked someone who trusted him to play his role. After a conversation and psychological adjustment, he scored six goals in the rest of the season. Young football is not magic; it is a process nurtured by belief. Ngoc Minh Chuyen, Truc Huong, and many young Vietnamese women's players need the same. They need a coach willing to look beyond a single result, willing to take risks to build a sustainable future. The quarterfinal against China will be a test. Not a test of whether Vietnam can win, because that chance is slim, but a test of whether young players receive a real opportunity. I will watch the starting lineup, count Truc Huong's minutes, and see whether Minh Chuyen enters before minute 80. If they play and play their football, regardless of the result, the transition has begun. If they stay on the bench, all the bold calls are just a political speech. A team is not only about victories; it has its own heartbeat, and I am the one recording it. Today, the heartbeat of Vietnam's women's team waits for a jolt. The question is who dares to deliver it.