Coach Mai Duc Chung: Boldly Give Opportunities to Young Players in Vietnam Women's Team

The 0-0 draw against Thailand in the final group-stage match of Asiad 2026 was one of the most frustrating matches I have ever watched involving the Vietnam women's national team. Not because of the scoreline, but because of the bench. In the 75th minute, head coach Hoang Van Phuc glanced toward Ngoc Minh Chuyen – a player given a mere 30 seconds of game time in this tournament – then turned away. In the 89th minute, he sent her on. Less than a minute later, the final whistle blew. Outsiders read the numbers on the board; I read the pulse of the tunnel. That pulse was beating a clear message: the Vietnam women's team had just missed its best chance to test new personnel. Context is worth restating. Vietnam reached the Asiad 2026 quarterfinals via a wildcard spot after two losses to Chinese Taipei and Japan in Group E. Against Thailand, the stakes were, in theory, nearly zero – results elsewhere had already favored Vietnam, the squad was in a relaxed frame of mind, and conditions were ideal for giving young players a chance. It was also the perfect occasion to test the 3-4-3 formation that Phuc has been trying to build since taking over the seat left by coach Mai Duc Chung. That did not happen. Former coach Mai Duc Chung and analyst Pham Hai Anh both noted: the team played cautiously, fielded many veteran players, and the "most exuberant attacking play" expected against a regional rival never appeared. Let us talk tactics, because that is the part most worth debating. The 3-4-3 is regarded as a common model of modern football – three center-backs to block, four midfielders to cover, three forwards to press. The problem is not the numbers; it is the people inside the system. Against Thailand, I watched Ngan Thi Van Su and Nguyen Thi Bich Thuy – two pure wing attackers – dragged into central midfield. Both were very stuck, because they were not trained to receive the ball in tight spaces, turn toward goal, and operate under pressure from opposing midfielders. A winger whose habit is hugging the touchline and stretching the defense cannot become a midfield tempo-setter overnight. Nguyen Thi Thanh Nha is a more serious case. A natural-born attacker pulled back to play wing-back in a back-three system – the role demanding the most stamina and tactical discipline of the entire setup. The result: for almost the whole match she could not push forward, and at times she even looked afraid of stepping on her teammates' feet. The fault lies in the operating structure – sending a rifleman out on reconnaissance duty. Nguyen Thi Hoa is the story that makes football people shake their heads. Three group matches, three different positions. A player without a settled role is the classic marker of a coach still searching for a formula rather than executing a consistent template. The idea of renewal is running ahead of reality on the pitch. Changing the playing style requires changing personnel, not forcing veteran players to change their football thinking overnight. A bench player knows more than five journalists combined. I have followed the Vietnam women's team since my days embedded with Busan IPark training sessions, watching generations grow up in the compact-defense, quick-counter style of the Mai Duc Chung era. I have learned a rule: when a talented young player gets 30 seconds in one match and about a minute in the next, that signal is about coaching-staff trust more than ability. Pham Hai Anh insists the young group "can play, it is not that they cannot play." Truc Huong held the ball and controlled the midfield well in the minutes she was given; Minh Chuyen produced bursts that destabilized opposing defenses. But these moments remain individual, not systematic – and they cannot become systematic when their total tournament minutes add up to less than two. Let me offer a contrarian view. Reaching the quarterfinals is not the measuring stick for Vietnamese women's football progress in this tournament. The wildcard is a product of the competition format – the best third-placed team advances – not a dominant result by the team itself. Two group-stage defeats, one of them against Chinese Taipei, a side usually ranked below Vietnam in the Asian women's football hierarchy. Yet very few voices have analyzed that defeat. Both Mai Duc Chung and Pham Hai Anh focused on Thailand, on China, while the loss to Chinese Taipei is the most worrying signal about Vietnam's regional standing during this transition. If that result reflects the true state of things, Vietnam's playground does not only have two mountains named Japan and China – even on the second tier, our footing is slipping. The quarterfinal against China is wrapped in a psychological cushion: Hoang Van Phuc's side lost heavily to this same opponent in a pre-tournament training camp, so the rematch is framed as a precious learning opportunity. That logic is sound – if the team truly gives Minh Chuyen, Truc Huong and the other young players a chance to touch continental class. But the problem, as I witnessed throughout the group stage, is not in slogans. Having once been left outside, I understand the value of the corner seat. From that angle, the most dangerous thing is not losing to China; it is losing with a lineup dominated by veterans, with young players sent on for a few late minutes when the result is already settled. That is a lose-lose scenario: no result, and no tested next generation. Data tells what has happened. The dressing room tells what comes next. After the Thailand draw, I stood in the stadium tunnel and watched the young players walk past – none of them spoke, but their eyes said enough. Mai Duc Chung, a man who has been with Vietnamese women's football through many generations, delivered a clear message: "Boldly give opportunities to the young players." He also gave public support to his successor, saying Hoang Van Phuc is "doing more than well enough" and has completed the quarterfinal target. But support does not replace action. On the quarterfinal night against China, I will sit in the press row, tracking every minute on the pitch and every change on the touchline. I need no further declarations from anyone. I only want to see how many young faces enter the game before the 75th minute, before the contest is decided. Because that answer will tell us what the Vietnam women's team is truly building: a new generation – or a handover promise that forever stays on paper.