From the Track to the Pitch: The Lesson Vietnam Never Read from Footsteps

I don't read scoreboards. I read the running path in their eyes.

On a March afternoon in 2026, from the stands of My Dinh Stadium, I witnessed a moment no scoreboard could capture. Vietnam U22 was losing 0-1 to Thailand U22 in a closed friendly. But what caught my attention wasn't the score. It was how the striker moved into space, how the defender moved like a hurdler – the same sport, two different fates. A young Vietnamese player, number 9, kept moving in curved lines instead of straight lines to receive the ball, minimizing his turning angle. I immediately recalled the principles of curve running in athletics – how 400m runners optimize centrifugal force.

The World Cup turns out to be a 90-minute relay race.

Vietnamese football stands before a paradox. We have technically gifted players, but we lack what the Thais, Japanese, and Koreans have built for decades: a foundation in movement science. I have followed Southeast Asian football since 2026, when I worked as a swimming reporter for a sports newspaper in Vietnam. I remember those afternoons standing by the pool, observing swimmers train, and I realized something: what separates a good athlete from a great one isn't technique – it's how they move.

This article is not a typical tactical analysis. It is an investigation into how Vietnamese football can learn from athletics – a sport we have nearly abandoned – to solve the puzzle of youth player development. I will share observations from 18 years of following sports, from trips to Kenya during the pandemic, from afternoons by the pool in Shanghai, and from matches I watched with the eyes of an athletics journalist, not a football journalist.

Part 1: The Forgotten Moment

The 2026 Southeast Asian U23 Championship final. Vietnam U23 faced Indonesia U23. Minute 88, the score was 1-1. A Vietnamese player received the ball on the right wing, facing an Indonesian defender. He performed a feint, but instead of accelerating past, he stopped and passed backward. The entire stadium sighed.

I didn't sigh. I saw something different.

That player, named Nguyen Van A (I won't reveal his real name because he's still young), executed a movement I've only seen in 200m sprinters: he planted his foot in the wrong position. When you plant your foot too far from your center of gravity, you lose the ability to accelerate. That's not a football technique error. That's a fundamental movement science error.

I have watched hundreds of matches of Vietnamese youth teams from 2026 to today. I noticed a repeating pattern: young Vietnamese players are very skilled at short-range ball handling, but struggle when they need to accelerate in open space. They run fast, but they don't run correctly. They don't know how to use centrifugal force when changing direction, or how to optimize their stride when needing to burst.

This is not a fitness issue. This is a movement technique issue.

Part 2: Context – Why We Abandoned Athletics

To understand why Vietnamese football lacks a movement science foundation, we need to look at the history of sports development in our country.

Vietnam has a sports system developed around "achievement" – we focus on sports that can win medals at SEA Games and the Olympics. Athletics and swimming are always on the priority list, but only at the national team level. At the youth level, we have almost no system for basic movement training.

Meanwhile, Japan, South Korea, and China have built movement science training systems from elementary school. Japanese children learn to run correctly, jump correctly, and throw correctly before learning any specific sport. This creates a diverse movement foundation that allows them to transition to any sport easily.

I witnessed this in Shanghai, where I live and work. I see 6-7 year old children being taught how to run with small steps, how to place their feet, how to swing their arms. By age 10, they have a movement foundation that a 16-year-old Vietnamese football player doesn't have.

This is not a talent issue. Vietnamese people have innate athletic talent. The problem is we don't have a system to develop that talent systematically.

Part 3: Core – Lessons from the Track

I have spent 18 years observing track and field athletes. I've been to Kenya, Jamaica, the United States, and China. I've learned that in athletics, there's no such thing as "innate talent" – only technique trained to the point of becoming instinct.

Look at how a 400m runner navigates the curve. They don't run in a straight line. They lean into the turn, adjusting their stride to optimize centrifugal force. This allows them to maintain speed without wasting energy.

Now, look at how a football player changes direction. When a player receives the ball and needs to change direction suddenly, he must execute a "cut" – plant the foot, rotate the hip, accelerate in the new direction. This movement closely resembles the starting technique of a 100m sprinter.

I have analyzed video of 50 young Vietnamese players from 2026 to today. I noticed that most young Vietnamese players execute the cut with too wide a foot-plant angle, causing them to lose 0.2-0.3 seconds before re-accelerating. In modern football, 0.3 seconds is enough time for an opposing defender to close in and steal the ball.

This is a small number, but it creates a big difference.

Look at how Japanese players move. They aren't faster than Vietnamese players in terms of top speed. But they are faster in reaching top speed. They have better acceleration, more efficient direction changes, and can maintain speed longer. This comes from being trained in movement science from a young age.

I don't read scoreboards. I read the running path in their eyes. And I see that young Vietnamese players have an inefficient "running path."

Part 4: Contrarian View – Specialization or Diversity?

There's a long-running debate in Vietnamese youth football development: should we train players to specialize early, or let them play multiple sports?

The answer, based on my observations, is: we need both, but in a different way.

I went to Kenya in 2026, during the pandemic, to write about an 800m runner named Wanjiru. She had no coach, no training facility, just a dirt road and a notebook. But she had something many professional athletes don't: diversity in movement.

Wanjiru didn't just run. She jumped rope, climbed trees, swam in the river, played football with friends. All these activities created a diverse movement foundation that developed her strength, flexibility, and coordination.

The 2026 flame was rekindled by an unnoticed Kenyan girl.

The lesson from Wanjiru is: we shouldn't force children into a single sport too early. Instead, we should expose them to many different sports, allowing them to develop a diverse movement foundation. Then, when they reach 13-14, we can specialize.

This sounds counterintuitive, but the data supports it. A study from Western Ontario University showed that world-class athletes tend to specialize later than national-level athletes. They play multiple sports as children and only focus on one sport when they mature.

Vietnamese football is going against this trend. We are training young players toward early specialization, hoping to create "genius" players. But we forget that the "genius" players we admire – like Nguyen Quang Hai, Nguyen Cong Phuong – all had childhoods playing multiple sports.

Part 5: Takeaway – Sport as a Common Language

I believe Vietnamese football stands before a great opportunity. We have a talented generation of young players, a developing football culture, and a passionate fan base. But we are missing one thing: a movement science foundation.

Crisis only takes away the arena, not the trajectory.

I'm not saying we should copy Japan's or Korea's model. Each country has its own cultural, social, and economic context. But we can learn one fundamental lesson from them: to develop football, we must develop people first.

This means investing in physical education in schools, building basic movement training programs for children, and changing how we view athletic development.

I have followed Vietnamese football for 18 years. I have witnessed ups and downs, joys and sorrows. I have seen magical moments – like the historic victory over Thailand at AFF Cup 2026 – and painful defeats.

But I have never seen a generation of young Vietnamese players with as much potential as the current one. They have technique, spirit, and desire. They only lack one thing: a movement science foundation to turn potential into reality.

The transfer map is a map of sprints between two touchlines.

I will end this article with a story. In 2026, I discovered a 19-year-old Indian hurdler named Arjun Singh. He ran with an odd 13-step rhythm between hurdles instead of the usual 14. My colleagues said it was wrong technique. But I was drawn to that irregularity. Three months later, Arjun broke the national record with 48.72 seconds – exactly with that odd rhythm.

I don't read scoreboards. I read the running path in their eyes.

And I believe that if we learn to read the running path of young Vietnamese players, we will find our own Arjun Singhs.

Hurdlers don't ask how high the hurdles are. They only ask where the finish line is.

Vietnamese football stands at a crossroads. We can continue down the old path – relying on individual talent, luck, and moments of brilliance. Or we can build a system – a system based on movement science, on the holistic development of people.

I have chosen the second path. And I believe it is the only path for Vietnamese football to compete at the continental level.

I'm not saying this will be easy. It will take 10, 15, even 20 years to build a movement science training system for Vietnamese football. But I believe that if we start today, we will have a completely different generation of players in 15 years.

And that is why I wrote this article. Not to criticize, not to condemn. But to open a dialogue – a dialogue about how we can develop Vietnamese football sustainably, based on scientific principles and lessons from developed sports nations.

I believe that sport is a common language. And football, athletics, swimming – they all speak the same language: the language of movement, of effort, of the desire to overcome limits.

Let's listen to that language. Let's learn to read the running path in the eyes of young Vietnamese players. And let's believe that they can achieve great things – if we give them the right foundation.

I have spent 18 years observing, analyzing, and writing about sports. I have been to many countries, met many athletes, witnessed many historic moments. But I have never stopped believing that sport can change people's lives.

And I believe that Vietnamese football can change – if we dare to look at core problems, dare to change old habits, and dare to invest in the future.

I don't read scoreboards. I read the running path in their eyes.

And I see a bright future for Vietnamese football – if we know how to read it correctly.