Vietnam U23 and the Order to Tear the Net: Nagoya's Rain and a Problem That Isn't in the Boots

There is a sound I only hear when I stand close to the touchline in the rain. It is the sound of the ball striking wet grass — not the crisp pop of a dry afternoon, but something heavier, denser, as if the pitch were swallowing the ball instead of returning it. On the afternoon of September 16, I watched Vietnam U23 walk into their final training session before facing the Philippines, and the Nagoya rain arrived just as coach Dinh Hong Vinh's players lined up for finishing drills. The rain was not heavy. But it was enough to make every short pass a little more expensive, and to strip a little confidence from every strike. I have lived in Nagoya for five years. This is my city now, where I write about Japanese football for Japanese readers, and also where I read about Vietnamese football like a man standing between two shores. So when the draw brought Vietnam U23 here, something felt both familiar and strange. Familiar, because I know how persistent September rain is in the Aichi region. Strange, because I had never stood in this position — watching my home country's team play on the soil I now live on. That is the ground beneath everything I am about to write. The context is well known, but I want to retell it from the vantage point of the stands rather than the scoreboard. Group C, men's football, Asiad 2026. Uzbekistan U23 crushed the Philippines U23 5-1, taking sole lead of the group with three points and a plus-four goal difference. Vietnam U23 drew 1-1 with Kuwait U23, leaving both sides on one point. The Philippines sit bottom with zero points and a minus-four goal difference. Looking at the table, Vietnam is in second or third place within the group — still in control of their own fate, but with no room left for retreat. The match against the Philippines therefore carries near must-win weight. A positive result before the final group game against Uzbekistan would create both a psychological and a points advantage. Some domestic media have framed it as an order to tear the Philippine net — a strong phrase, heavy with pressure, and in my experience of covering youth tournaments, orders like this cut both ways: they light a fire, but they also burn away composure. The real problem for Vietnam U23 is not where the chances are created. It is at the final step. I have rewatched the Kuwait draw several times. So has the coaching staff — and what they focused on reviewing was precisely chance conversion and finishing efficiency. That is a very clear signal. Vietnam created many chances but scored only one goal. In other words, the attack did the hardest part of the match — breaking down a defensive structure and generating space — only to stumble on the part considered easiest: putting the ball in the net. In football analysis, we often confuse these two concepts. Chance creation is a collective skill, tied to team structure, passing rhythm and off-ball movement. Finishing is an individual skill, dependent on composure, timing of the strike and, above all, confidence. A team that creates few chances but scores many is lucky. A team that creates many chances but scores few is stuck psychologically, not tactically. And here is what conventional analysis often misses. When a young team keeps missing, the problem is not in the feet, it is in the head. U23 players are still learning how to bear the weight of a decisive shot. They may strike beautifully in training, but when they stand in front of goal with a defender rushing in and a goalkeeper waiting, their bodies tighten. That cannot be fixed with a training manual. It can only be fixed by scoring — and to score, they need to be placed in familiar situations of success. In Russia, I learned to write about pain: not to judge, only to touch. I remember this whenever I write about young strikers under criticism. In 2026, after the penalty shootout in Sochi, I stayed behind to record how the Russian goalkeeper's fingers clawed into the wet grass. Nobody judged him for losing. People only remembered that he was there. Vietnam U23's forwards are the same. They are there, creating chances, and trying. What they need is not a louder order, but a more concrete solution. Tactically, the Philippines match will differ from the Kuwait match. After losing 5-1 to Uzbekistan, the Philippines will almost certainly choose a deeper defensive approach, possibly a low block or a conservative mid-block. They were beaten by speed and individual quality; this time they will learn to stand closer together, compress the space and accept surrendering territory. That is a different problem. Vietnam will no longer be able to run into wide open spaces as they did against Kuwait, but must find a way to unlock a door that has been carefully bolted. This is where wide attacks, crosses and set pieces become more important. When a team sits deep, the rate of goals from open play drops sharply. Goals no longer come from elegant central combinations, but from mechanical efforts: second-ball duels, crosses from the flanks, corners, direct free kicks. And the Nagoya rain, on a slick surface, will complicate this further — the ball travels faster, is harder to control, especially for short passes and combinations requiring high precision. In other words, the rain does not only test Vietnam's technique. It changes how the match ought to be played. A wet pitch also affects another rarely mentioned aspect: control of second balls. When the ball lands on wet grass, it moves faster and less predictably, making second-ball duels more important. The team that wins more second balls controls the rhythm of the game. For Vietnam, this means the midfield must be more proactive in covering and anticipating, rather than waiting for the perfect ground combination that is difficult to execute on a slick surface. The rain, in its uncomfortable way, is forcing the team to choose a different style. Watching Japanese football for many years, I have noticed one thing: young Asian teams often get stuck between two instincts when facing a low block. The first instinct is to play beautifully — forcing the ball through the middle, waiting for a flash of brilliance. The second is to play fast, pushing the tempo up at any cost. Both easily lead to deadlock. The team that breaks a low block most effectively is usually the patient one — patient in circulating the ball, patient in stretching the opponent, patient in waiting for a mistake, and above all, patient in accepting that the goal may not come in the 20th minute. Every player is a universe; tactics are merely the orbit. Vietnam U23's forwards are on a good orbit. They are running into the right places, creating the right spaces. What is missing is only a moment — one time the ball goes exactly into the net, and all the tension that came before will dissolve. And this is where I want to pause on another angle, the one I consider the blind spot of the story currently being told. People are talking about the order to tear the net. People are talking about finishing more sharply. People are talking about coach Dinh Hong Vinh reviewing chance conversion. All of that is true. But there is another risk few mention: when you turn finishing into an order, you may inadvertently turn every moment in front of goal into a contest. Young players do not play better when they know they are being judged on every touch. They play better when they believe the next moment will be theirs. So Vietnam U23's problem, in my view, is not really low finishing efficiency. That is only a symptom. The problem lies in how the team handles expectation — and how the coaching staff transmits that expectation to the players. An order to tear the net can burn away caution, but it can also burn away the calm required to make the right decision in a split second. Elite football is not decided by how badly you want to score. It is decided by whether you are cold enough to choose the right action when the chance arrives. I have seen this many times in J.League matches in empty stadiums. For a hundred days of empty stands, I heard the ball breathe. With no crowd, the coach's voice rings across the pitch, and every player hears the instructions more clearly than ever. The results were often the opposite of expectation: the more they were told, the heavier they played. Silence is sometimes more effective than a loud order. That is the lesson I carry whenever I write about pressure. So what is there to fear about the Philippines? Not much, in terms of class. But every team has one weapon when backed into a corner: resilience. After a 1-5 defeat, the Philippines will play with the mentality of a side with nothing left to lose. That is a dangerous mentality. They will play hard, play tight, play to protect a point of honour — and sometimes, a team playing with that mentality becomes more awkward than a team wanting to win prettily. As for Uzbekistan, the group leaders are showing they are the benchmark of Group C. The way they crushed the Philippines 5-1 speaks not only to their strength, but also places Vietnam in a position of having to consider tiebreakers. If Uzbekistan keep collecting points in the final round, Vietnam's chances will depend on the game against the Central Asians themselves. That is why the Philippines match is not just three points — it is the psychological foundation for the decisive game. If Vietnam score early, the match will unfold according to a comfortable script. If they fail to score in the first 30 minutes, pressure will begin to accumulate. The young players will feel it in every pass, in every unnecessarily heavy touch by a teammate. This is where the coaching staff's experience matters most — not in drawing up tactics, but in keeping the players' heads light enough to play. I believe Vietnam U23 have enough quality to beat the Philippines. Not because we are superior in every respect, but because we arrive at a moment when we need the win more than they do. But I also believe that victory will not come from a louder order, but from a more patient way of playing. Attacking a low block is a test of maturity, not of aggression. And Vietnam U23, after the Kuwait draw, need to prove one simple thing: our players can stay calm in the final moment. The match only ends when people stop remembering it. For a young team, what remains after every tournament is not the scoreline, but the lessons carved into memory. If Vietnam U23 learn to turn pressure into focus, they will carry that lesson throughout their careers. But if they let the order to tear the net crush the ball at their feet, then the story of one match could become the story of many years. In Nagoya, the rain is still falling. The pitch is still wet. And on it, a generation of players is learning how to stand firm in front of goal.