The Reverse Current: Vietnam's Swimming Journey to Find Its Place in Asia's Speed Era

Kazan taught me that speed can also dance. But there are mornings when I stand by the Quan Ngua pool in Hanoi, where young athletes train in pale blue water, and I realize that speed doesn't just dance – it also knows how to wait. And perhaps, that waiting is the biggest story of Vietnamese swimming. I have spent fourteen years observing swimming from two shores: one is Vietnam, where I was born; the other is China, where I work. From SEA Games to the Olympics, from provincial pools to modern national training centers, I have witnessed a truth rarely spoken: Vietnamese swimming does not lack talent, does not lack aspiration – it lacks a system that knows how to convert those potentials into podium touches at the continental level. In the emptiness, I hear more clearly the breath of the competition. And the breath of Vietnamese swimming right now is a hurried breath, full of desire but lacking the necessary endurance. CONTEXT: NUMBERS THAT SPEAK Look at the big picture. At the 32nd SEA Games held in Cambodia in 2026, Vietnamese swimming won 7 gold medals – a respectable number in the region. But when placed on the scale with East Asia, that number becomes modest. At the 2026 Asian Games (held in 2026 in Hangzhou), the Vietnamese swimming team won no medals, while China captured 28 gold medals, Japan 8 gold medals, and South Korea 6 gold medals. The gap is not in effort. It is in the system. Nguyen Thi Anh Vien – the greatest swimmer in Vietnamese history – retired in 2026 at age 27. Her best Olympic achievement was reaching the semifinals of the 200m backstroke at Rio 2026. Since Anh Vien left the peak, Vietnamese swimming has not found a true successor. Nguyen Huy Hoang – Vietnam's number one male swimmer – qualified for the Paris 2026 Olympics in the 800m freestyle, but his time of 7 minutes 52.56 seconds still lags more than 20 seconds behind the Asian record of Zhang Lin (China). The language of silence lies in those numbers. Twenty seconds in swimming is a chasm. TECHNICAL ANALYSIS: LOOKING AT THE KICKS I have spent years following the techniques of Vietnamese and Chinese swimmers. The biggest difference is not in physical fitness – it is in the smallest technical details. Look at the kick. Chinese swimmers are trained under the philosophy of "continuous kicking" – maintaining a steady kick rhythm throughout the race, including when turning or finishing. They train with kick-force meters, water pressure sensors, and 3D motion analysis equipment. At the national training center in Beijing, I witnessed 14-year-old athletes having every elbow angle, every body tilt analyzed through underwater camera systems at 240 frames per second. In Vietnam, training conditions have improved significantly over the past decade. The National Sports Training Centers in Da Nang and Hanoi have been equipped with Olympic-standard pools. But high-tech technical analysis is still in its infancy. Most Vietnamese coaches still rely on experience and direct observation, rather than quantitative data. This difference creates a clear consequence: Vietnamese athletes often have good starts and final sprints – thanks to innate endurance qualities – but lose ground in turn technique and maintaining speed in the middle of the race. In swimming, the middle of the race accounts for 60% of total time. That is where medals are decided. DATA AND PERFORMANCE: THE FULL PICTURE Looking at the 2026 world rankings, no Vietnamese swimmer ranks in the top 50 in the world in any event. Meanwhile, China has 12 swimmers in the world's top 10 across various events, led by Pan Zhanle with the world record in the 100m freestyle (46.80 seconds) at the Doha 2026 World Championships. The performance gap reflects the investment gap. China's swimming budget for 2026 is estimated at 500 million RMB (about 1,700 billion VND), while Vietnam's swimming budget is only about 50 billion VND – less than 3%. But the numbers that speak are not just about budget. They are about how the system operates. China operates a talent selection system from the provincial level, with more than 3,000 competition-standard pools nationwide. Children are selected from ages 6-8, undergo regular physical tests, and those with the best qualities are placed into specialized sports schools. This system creates a continuous talent pipeline, not dependent on luck or coincidence. Vietnam has about 200 competition-standard pools, and the talent selection system remains movement-based, relying heavily on private clubs and the enthusiasm of local coaches. COMPETITION MECHANISM AND QUALIFICATION: INVISIBLE BARRIERS One of the least discussed issues is the domestic competition mechanism. In Vietnam, the national competition system has only 2-3 major tournaments per year, with a limited number of events. This means athletes lack competitive exposure, lack real competitive pressure, and more importantly – lack data to assess progress. In China, the national competition system runs year-round, with at least 8-10 major tournaments each year, including youth events and events for mid-level athletes. Each tournament has a scoring system, rankings, and data stored in a national database. This allows coaches to track each athlete's progress month by month, year by year, and make timely adjustments. Silence does not lack language – it possesses its own tongue. And the language of silence in Vietnamese swimming is the absence of data. Without data, there is no way to measure progress, no way to identify weaknesses, and no way to design a scientific training program. TRAINING SYSTEMS: COMPARING TWO SCHOOLS From the perspective of someone born in Vietnam and working in China, I see two completely different coaching schools. The Chinese school emphasizes discipline and training volume. A Chinese swimmer aged 15-17 typically trains 6 days per week, 2 sessions per day, 2-3 hours in the water each session, plus 1-2 hours of dryland training. Total training volume can reach 80-100 km per week. They are supervised by a multidisciplinary team: head coach, assistant coaches, nutritionist, sports psychologist, sports physician, and data analyst. The Vietnamese school, conversely, leans toward inspiration and individual talent. Outstanding athletes are often discovered by chance – through grassroots tournaments, through referrals, or through youth talent competitions. They are coached by experienced coaches who often lack updated knowledge of modern sports science. Average training volume is only about 40-50 km per week, and the lack of a multidisciplinary support team forces athletes to fend for themselves on many issues, from nutrition to psychology. This difference creates clear consequences. Vietnamese athletes often have an early-career explosion – thanks to innate talent and enthusiasm – but then plateau or decline, due to a lack of solid technical foundation and sustainable support systems. Conversely, Chinese athletes may start slower, but progress steadily and sustainably thanks to the system. STORIES OF INDIVIDUALS: FROM ANH VIEN TO HUY HOANG Nguyen Thi Anh Vien is a typical case. Born in 2026 in Can Tho, Anh Vien was discovered at age 8 and placed into the national team at age 14. She won 25 SEA Games gold medals, broke dozens of national records, and became an icon of Vietnamese swimming. But Anh Vien's journey also exposed the system's limitations. She once shared that training in the United States under a foreign coach helped her improve dramatically – but when she returned to Vietnam, she did not have an equivalent training environment. The dependence on foreign coaches, the lack of domestic support systems, and the pressure of fan expectations created a significant burden. Nguyen Huy Hoang, born in 2026 in Quang Binh, is another case. Discovered through a grassroots tournament at age 12, Huy Hoang quickly showed exceptional talent in distance events. He won a SEA Games gold medal in the 1500m freestyle at just 17, and qualified for the Tokyo 2026 Olympics – a historic achievement for Vietnamese men's swimming. But Huy Hoang's journey also shows the challenges. Training at multiple different venues, lacking a fixed training center with full equipment, and the absence of regular international competitions have made it difficult for him to maintain peak form. At the Paris 2026 Olympics, Huy Hoang ranked 24th overall in the 800m freestyle – an encouraging result but also showing the gap remains very large compared to the leading group. CONTRARIAN VIEW: SPECIALIZATION OR DIVERSITY? There is a quiet debate happening in Vietnamese swimming: should we focus investment on a few outstanding athletes (specialization strategy) or build a broad training system (diversity strategy)? The popular view is that Vietnam should concentrate its limited resources on a small group of the most promising athletes – those who can compete for medals at the SEA Games and advance deep at the Asian Games. This is a strategy that many small nations have successfully applied, like Singapore with Joseph Schooling – who won Olympic gold in the 100m butterfly at Rio 2026. But I believe this strategy has a serious blind spot. When focusing only on a small group, the system becomes extremely fragile. If the lead athlete suffers an injury, form decline, or retirement – as in Anh Vien's case – the entire achievement collapses. Moreover, the lack of a broad training system will gradually deplete the talent supply, and successor athletes will not have enough competitive pressure to develop. I believe the answer lies in an intermediate strategy: building a broad training system at the grassroots level, while creating "centers of excellence" – where the most promising athletes train under the best conditions, with multidisciplinary support teams and regular international competition opportunities. The pandemic season was where the truest voice was heard: the sound of the ball hitting the grass. And in swimming, the truest voice is the sound of water breaking when a record is set. But to have that water-breaking sound, there must be thousands of hours of silent training, thousands of repetitions of small movements, and a system that knows how to nurture talent. RISKS AND CHALLENGES: FACING THE TRUTH Vietnamese swimming faces multiple risks. First, the dependence on a few outstanding individuals makes the system vulnerable. Second, the lack of investment in infrastructure and technology makes it difficult for Vietnam to compete with regional countries. Third, the absence of regular international competitions leaves athletes lacking high-level competitive experience. But there is another risk, less discussed: the risk of expectations. When Anh Vien won SEA Games gold medals consecutively, fans began to expect bigger achievements – Asian Games, Olympics. When those expectations were not met, disappointment could create negative pressure on young athletes, making them fear big goals. I remember an afternoon at a training facility in Guangzhou, where I spoke with a Chinese coach about coaching philosophy. He said: "We don't teach children to swim fast. We teach them to love the water. When they love the water, they will find their own way to swim fast." That statement made me think for a long time. Perhaps what Vietnamese swimming needs is not just financial investment or technology – but also an inspiring story, a reason for young athletes to believe they can reach the top. RIPPLE EFFECTS: SWIMMING AND THE SPORTS ECONOMY Swimming is not just a sport – it is an industry. In China, the swimming industry includes training centers, swimming clubs, swimwear brands, media competitions, and online platforms. China's swimming market is estimated at 50 billion RMB (about 170,000 billion VND) per year. In Vietnam, the swimming industry is still in its infancy. The number of private swimming clubs is increasing in major cities like Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, and Da Nang – but the scale remains small and lacks connection to the national training system. International swimwear brands have entered the Vietnamese market, but no domestic brand is strong enough to compete. The development of Vietnamese swimming will create positive ripple effects: creating jobs for coaches, nutritionists, and sports psychologists; promoting sports tourism; and improving community health. But to achieve those effects, a long-term development strategy and commitment from all levels of government are needed. LOOKING FORWARD: POSITIVE SIGNALS Despite many challenges, I see positive signals. First, government interest in sports is increasing, with investment in new training centers and youth sports development programs. Second, the emergence of private swimming clubs is creating a new ecosystem where young athletes can access quality coaching early. Third, international connections are growing – Vietnamese athletes have more opportunities to compete internationally and learn from developed swimming nations. I also see a new generation of Vietnamese coaches – young, well-trained, and open to new methods. They are not afraid to apply technology, not afraid to learn from abroad, and most importantly – they believe in the potential of Vietnamese swimming. CONCLUSION: SWIMMING AS A COMMON LANGUAGE Swimming is a special sport. It needs no ball, no field, no direct opponent. It only needs water, body, and will. That is why swimming can become a common language – a way for people to transcend all barriers of language, culture, and geography. Kazan taught me that speed can also dance. And I believe that one day, Vietnamese swimming will find its own rhythm – a rhythm that imitates no one, compares with no one, but is simply the sound of water breaking when a Vietnamese swimmer touches the wall before everyone else. The question is not whether that will happen. The question is: do we have enough patience to wait, enough courage to invest, and enough wisdom to build a sustainable system – or will we continue to rely on luck and individual talent? In the emptiness, I hear more clearly the breath of the competition. And the breath of Vietnamese swimming is becoming clearer every day. It is no longer the breath of waiting – it is the breath of preparation. And when preparation is complete, the sound of water breaking will ring out. The quiet Italian only nodded, but the entire defense understood. And in swimming, the silence of 5 a.m. training sessions, of repetitions that border on boredom, of final kicks when the body is exhausted – all that silence will create its own language. The language of those who believe that, no matter where they start, no matter the conditions, they can still reach the top. That is the story I want to tell. And that is the story I believe Vietnamese swimming is writing – breath by breath, stroke by stroke, tear by tear and drop of sweat – so that one day, the whole world will hear the sound of Vietnam's water breaking.