V-League 2026/25: When Dreams Get Postponed and Resumes Don't Belong on the Pitch

At Thong Nhat Stadium, a breathless moment of silence. The referee blew the final whistle, the cheers gradually fading like a song without an ending. On the pitch, a young player hung his head, shoulders trembling under the floodlights. I have witnessed this moment hundreds of times in 45 years of journalism — tonight, it returns like an unfinished poem.

Vietnamese football is entering what I call 'the season of unanswered questions.' Not because of a lack of talent, but because of an excess of pressures no one dares to name. As I sat in the press room at Thong Nhat Stadium last night, holding a coffee cup that had gone cold three hours ago, I wondered: are we building a football culture or watching it slowly crumble under the weight of our own expectations?

The National Team: When 'Windows' Become 'Walls'

In March this year, when Vietnam announced their squad for World Cup 2026 qualifiers, the name causing the most debate wasn't someone who was selected — it was someone who was left out. On football forums, people speculated about 'resumes' — a term I first heard when I was a young reporter in Hanoi, now returning with troubling weight.

I have followed Vietnam's national team through three generations of coaches — from Mr. Calisto to Park Hang-seo, and now Kim Hong-lick. What I've realized after 45 years is this: Vietnamese football has always been skilled at creating touching stories, but accidentally destroying those very stories. When the U23 team captured the nation's tears in 2026 with their magical performance, I wrote that it was 'the moment Vietnamese football realized it could reach for the Moon.' Now I wonder: are we trying to reach the Sun while forgetting that our skin can only withstand so much heat?

V-League: When Pitches Become 'Testing Grounds' Rather Than Battlefields

Returning to last night's match at Thong Nhat. SHB Da Nang hosted Cong An Ha Noi in a 1-1 draw that only partially reflects the truth. What I truly witnessed was two teams playing with completely different tactical intentions — one trying to preserve energy for off-field calculations, the other wanting to win but unsure how after parting ways with their Korean coach.

The 2026/25 V-League season has seen at least three foreign coaches leave after just five matchdays. This number didn't appear out of nowhere — it reflects what I call 'systematic impatience culture.' Vietnamese clubs, with increasingly larger budgets from sponsors and investors, are falling into the trap of demanding immediate results in an environment that requires long-term processes.

A detail I noticed in last night's match: the winger for Cong An Ha Noi, expected to replace a star who moved to Japan, had eight successful dribbles in the first half. An impressive number, but I realized that seven of those eight dribbles ended with passes no one could reach or shots missing the goal. Exceptional individual technique, but football is a team sport — and his teammates weren't ready to understand what he was thinking.

The Truth About 'Resumes' That Don't Belong on the Pitch

Last week, a younger colleague asked me about rumors regarding a young player being excluded from the national team due to 'resume issues.' I asked: 'What resume issues?' He hesitated, then said they were 'unofficial information on social media.' I was silent for a long moment, then told him my story.

In 2026, when I was new to the profession, there was a talented player from the Mekong Delta, evaluated by a German coach as having 'European potential.' Before an important match, a newspaper published that this player had 'family problems' — completely unverified information. The player didn't play, the team lost, and his career gradually declined. Ten years later, I met him again in a coffee shop in Can Tho. He said: 'Sir, I never had any problems at all. I was just a 19-year-old boy destroyed by words on paper.'

Vietnamese football in 2026 is still learning to coexist with those 'resumes' — not on the pitch, but on phone screens and posts that are never verified. The issue isn't whether the player has problems — it's that an entire system is allowing rumors to determine human destinies without anyone taking responsibility.

When VAR Technology Becomes the 'Culprit' Instead of the 'Referee'

Another bottleneck in current Vietnamese football is how we use technology. VAR was implemented in the V-League with expectations of reducing refereeing errors. The reality is far more complex.

In the match between Ha Noi FC and Binh Duong in April, the penalty awarded to Ha Noi via VAR in the 87th minute sparked days of debate on forums. Supporters of Ha Noi insisted it was the correct decision according to the rules; the other side claimed it was 'bias.' But what I truly care about isn't whether the decision was right or wrong — it's how the VAR operator responded to pressure from the stands. In football, when technology is introduced, humans still make the final decisions — and humans are always influenced by their surroundings.

The 'Overseas Dream' and Harsh Realities

Every transfer window, Vietnamese media gets excited about rumors of Vietnamese players moving to Japan, Korea, even Europe. Sometimes I wonder: are we building a generation of players dreaming of distant destinations, instead of focusing on becoming the best version of themselves right here?

Nguyen Quang Hai — the name I wrote about since he was a 16-year-old at HAGL — is a typical case study. When he moved to France to play for Pau FC, I wrote that it was 'a leap for an entire generation.' The reality was harsher: he didn't get regular playing time, returned with diminished fitness, and is now trying to find himself again in the V-League. But I don't call that failure. I call it 'a chapter in an unfinished novel.'

Vietnamese football needs success stories abroad, but needs more stories told correctly. A Vietnamese player performing well in the J-League isn't just that individual's success — it's proof of an entire youth development system. Conversely, a player failing abroad isn't that player's failure — it's a question mark for the entire system that sent them there.

Conclusion: The Pitch Doesn't Lie, But It Knows How to Wait

Returning to Thong Nhat Stadium, late at night. The stands emptying, lights turning off one by one like setting stars. I picked up an abandoned plastic chair beneath the stands — a blue chair, stained with beer and footprints of fans who had sat there watching football. I kept it as a memento, not for its material value, but because it reminds me: football is never just 90 minutes on a pitch.

Vietnamese football stands at a crossroads. Not a crossroads of victory or defeat — but a crossroads of choice: continuing to live in fairy tales about 'resumes' and 'overseas dreams,' or returning to the most basic truths — a ball, a pitch, and children dreaming of running after their aspirations.

I am 61 years old. I have seen too many beautiful things destroyed by our own impatience. But I still believe in tomorrow morning, when young players return to training, knowing nothing about online rumors, only knowing that the ball is still round and the grass is still green.

That is the football I love. Not the football of resumes — but the football of dreams that don't need to be written on paper.