Vietnamese Football: From Contempt to Respect — The Longest Journey Football Can Give Us

I used to believe in the numbers, until the numbers were torn apart by a counter-attack. That statement has never been truer than when I look at Vietnam's FIFA ranking in 2026. Ranked 94th in the world, but 2nd in Southeast Asia. A number that makes the English raise an eyebrow, but makes me — a stranger born in Saigon, living in London — smile. Because I know what is really happening behind that curtain of statistics. When I was young, Vietnamese football was a joke in the eyes of my international friends. Heavy defeats to Thailand, early eliminations in the AFF Cup group stage, mockery of Vietnamese players' physiques. I grew up with the question: why can a nation so passionate about the ball not produce real warriors? The answer, I realized years later, lies not in physicality or technique. It lies in social structure, in how we perceive failure, and in something I call "the defensive mentality of the underdog." Look at what has happened. U23 Vietnam reached the Asian U23 final in 2026. The national team won the AFF Cup in 2026 after a 10-year wait. U23 Vietnam won the SEA Games gold in 2026. And most recently, the historic 3-1 victory over Indonesia right in Jakarta in March 2026 — a match I have rewatched at least five times, not for the goals, but for the way they defended. This is not a small team playing a deep defensive block. This is a collective that knows how to read space, how to press with purpose, and how to punish opponents with lethal counter-attacks. But here is what I want to say: all those successes, all those trophies, are still not enough to convince the international media. Why? Because they look at the numbers. They see Vietnam ranked 94th, losing 0-4 to Japan, 0-1 to Iraq, and they conclude: still a small team. They do not see that in the 0-1 loss to Iraq in the 2026 World Cup qualifiers, Vietnam held 47% possession — a figure that was impossible five years ago. They do not see that Vietnam's defense, with center-back Bui Hoang Viet Anh and goalkeeper Dang Van Lam, frustrated Iraq's attackers for 89 minutes. They only see the scoreline. I have followed Vietnamese football since I was a 10-year-old boy sitting in front of a CRT TV watching the team lose 0-3 to Thailand. I have witnessed the change day by day. And I can tell you something no statistic can show: Vietnamese football has changed its DNA. They no longer play with fear. They play with calculation. Let me analyze further. In the match against Indonesia in Jakarta, I noted every movement of Nguyen Xuan Son — the Brazilian-born naturalized striker who scored 3 goals in his first 2 appearances for the national team. What I noticed was not the goals, but how he moved without the ball. He stretched Indonesia's defense with central runs, creating space for Nguyen Hoang Duc and Nguyen Quang Hai to attack from the second line. That is modern football, the kind I saw in Monaco in 2026 when Mbappe made runs without touching the ball. And I realized: Vietnam is no longer a team of meaningless long balls. They are a team of deliberately created spaces. But I must be honest. I could be wrong. Perhaps I am looking through the lens of a Vietnamese expatriate, yearning to see his homeland rise. Perhaps the wins over Indonesia, Laos, and the Philippines are just wins over weaker opponents. Perhaps when facing Japan, South Korea, or Iran, Vietnamese football will again reveal its true limits. I accept that possibility. But I also know: no team in the world has risen without painful defeats. Japan lost 0-5 to Brazil in 2026. South Korea were eliminated in the 2026 World Cup group stage with zero points. And now they are powers of Asia. Vietnam is on that path, only they walk slower, and they walk in their own way. What gives me the most confidence is not the victories, but how Vietnamese fans have changed. I remember in 2026, when the team lost to Thailand in the AFF Cup semi-final, fans cried, cursed, and demanded the coach's dismissal. In 2026, when Vietnam lost to Iraq in the World Cup qualifiers, fans were still sad, but they no longer demanded jersey burning. They understand that the team is building something bigger than a single win. They understand that football is a conversation between people, not between people and results. And that, to me, is the greatest sign of maturity. I also want to talk about something few people notice: the development of the youth training system. The PVF Academy, the HAGL Arsenal JMG Academy, and other training centers have begun producing players with modern tactical thinking. Nguyen Dinh Bac, born in 2026, played like a 25-year-old at the 2026 SEA Games. Nguyen Thai Son, born in 2026, started in central midfield against Iraq. These players not only have technique, they have the ability to read the game — something that previously existed only in overseas Vietnamese players or those trained abroad. This is not accidental. It is the result of a decade of systematic investment, a decade that the media rarely mentions because it does not create shocks. But I do not want this article to become a praise song. I want to talk about what needs to be done next. Vietnamese football has proven it can compete in Southeast Asia. Now, they need to prove they can compete in Asia. That means: they need to win matches where they are underestimated. They need to win matches where the opponent is superior in every aspect. And they need to do it consistently, not just in one tournament. I remember once writing on my personal blog: "England is not mediocre, they just hide their greatness under a cloak of cynicism." I think that statement is also true for Vietnam. We are not mediocre. We are just hiding our greatness under a cloak of modesty, under the cloak of a nation once considered weak in sports. But that cloak is slowly being removed. And when it is fully removed, I believe the world will have to tip its hat. From contempt to respect — that is the longest journey football can give us. And I believe Vietnam is in the middle of that journey. They have walked half the road. The other half will be harder, but I believe they will make it. Because I have seen what the numbers cannot show: a nation that has learned to believe in itself. A stranger does not need a ticket; they open the door with their own feet. Vietnamese football is opening its own door. And I, a stranger born in Saigon, am sitting in the front row to witness it.