Ordered to 'tear the net' of the Philippines: Vietnam U23 and the finishing problem at Asiad 2026

The sunrise over Ulsan never lies. One September morning, I opened my laptop in my small apartment in Busan, and the line of news from Nagoya hit me: Vietnam U23 training in the rain, on a wet pitch, under an order that sounded like a scream from the coaching staff — they must tear apart the Philippines' net. It was not an encouragement. It was a tactical order. When a young team walks into training with a directive that naked and explicit, you know that somewhere behind it lies a pain that has not healed. That pain has a name: the 1-1 draw with Kuwait, where Vietnam U23 created enough chances to win three matches but scored only once.

Head coach Dinh Hong Vinh, the man carrying the weight of a whole football nation on his shoulders, sat down with his players to review exactly one thing: the ability to capitalize on chances and finishing efficiency. That is an honest admission. A team that creates no chances has a systemic problem. A team that creates countless chances and fails to score has a problem of nerve, of that final coldness, of the moment when every tactical analysis on the whiteboard becomes meaningless. Youth football is always trapped in that moment. And Asiad 2026, in a group where Uzbekistan soars after a 5-1 win over the very same Philippines, does not give Vietnam U23 much time to grow up slowly.

Let me tell this story the way I know how — as a man who has spent forty-five years watching football through the eyes of a verifier, not a cheerleader. At 61, I still pick up the phone at 4 a.m. — because Ulsan doesn't call to say good night. And every time a match places an entire nation's hopes on a group of players barely out of their twenties, I remember Son Heung-min in 2026, when he was battered by criticism only because the national team didn't win, and I learned to see people without the filter of public opinion.

The context of Group C is simple but brutal. Uzbekistan crushed the Philippines 5-1, taking the top spot with 3 points and a plus-four goal difference. Vietnam U23 and Kuwait each have one point after their 1-1 draw. The Philippines sit at the bottom with 0 points and a minus-four goal difference. Reading that table, a fan might smile. But I read it in reverse: Vietnam U23 is standing at the edge of a fork in the road, and if they choose wrong, the whole tournament will end before they understand why they lost. A win over the Philippines would bring not just three points. It would bring the right to control their own fate before facing Uzbekistan — the team regarded as the benchmark of this group.

I often sit for a long time with statistics, but I never let them speak for me. xG has been abused to the point of absurdity. It cannot explain a referee's decision, cannot explain a striker hesitating for half a second, and cannot measure the weight on the shoulders of a 20-year-old hearing the call of his homeland. In the case of Vietnam U23, no xG figure has been published. The only thing we know for certain is this: they created many chances against Kuwait and converted only one.

Vietnam U23's problem is not the ability to create chances — it is the final moment when the ball sits between a foot and the net.

This is a subtle distinction that many overlook. A team that is poor at organizing its attack can be fixed by changing formations, by rotating positions, by stretching the opponent's defensive line. But a team that creates enough chances and fails to score has a problem of psychology, of confidence, of young players playing with the fear that they will be the one to miss. And that fear can only be cured in two ways: either an early goal, or a training session where players are forced to put the ball in the net hundreds of times until the motion becomes instinct.

The Vietnam U23 coaching staff chose the second path. The "tear the net" order that the media carried was a psychological therapy dressed in tactical clothing. They did not tell the players to "stay calm." They told them to "tear it apart." That is the language of release, not the language of caution. For a young team haunted by missed chances, boldness can be more effective than composure.

But this is where I must say what many do not want to hear. The Philippines is not Kuwait. And it is no longer the Philippines of the Uzbekistan match.

Remember this: a team that has just lost 5-1 will not walk onto the pitch with an attacking mindset. They will retreat. They will build a low, tight, and irritating defensive block. They will not give Vietnam U23 the space behind the back line that Kuwait so carelessly left. This is the tactical trap that no statistic can warn you about. After a heavy defeat, the Philippines has every motivation to restore pride by defending solidly. And a solid, crowded, deep-lying defense is the hardest problem for a young team hungry for goals.

There are phone calls that last only three minutes yet change an entire summer — and there are matches that last only 90 minutes yet shape a whole generation. The Philippines match in Nagoya is one of them. If Vietnam U23 presses too high, pushes the entire team up, and leaves gaps behind, the Philippines can punish them with a counterattack in a flash. That is why I believe the coaching staff's final instruction should not be "tear the net at all costs," but "be patient until the net tears itself."

The rain and wet pitch in Nagoya add another variable to the picture. On a slick surface, short passes and intricate combinations in tight spaces become less accurate. The ball travels faster, stops harder, and high-speed touches turn into miscontrols. This means the value of direct play, crosses from the flanks, and set pieces increases. A smart team reads the weather as part of its tactics, not as an excuse. For Vietnam U23, rain could be an opportunity to use sharp crosses and second-line headers — weapons the Philippines struggles to defend when the ball is slick.

I remember the empty summer of 2026, when Kim Min-jae terminated his contract and football stood still so we could reflect. At 61, I have watched too many generations of young Vietnamese players enter a major tournament with trembling legs, only to return home with a lesson and a regret. But I have also seen generations turn pressure into fuel. What separates these two fates is not talent. It is the ability to endure the silence of a goal that has not yet arrived.

And here is the contrarian angle I want to send to you, the person reading these lines.

The media is building a story of transformation: Vietnam U23 creates many chances, they are simply unlucky, and one "net-tearing" match will fix everything. That story is inspiring, and I understand why people want to believe it. But it ignores an important tactical truth: a team under too much pressure to score usually plays worse, not better. The pressure to "must win," to "tear the net," to "score many goals for goal difference before Uzbekistan," creates a psychological trap that a young team can easily fall into.

I believe the biggest blind spot of the mainstream narrative lies here: people are measuring Vietnam U23 by the Kuwait result, when the right yardstick should be their ability to adapt from match to match. Kuwait and the Philippines are two different problems. A big win over the Philippines could prove that finishing has improved, but a hard-fought 1-0 win with a goal from a set piece could prove something more important: the ability to be patient against a low block. In football, sometimes an ugly goal is worth more than a rain of beautiful ones.

I am not in the dressing room. I do not know whom Dinh Hong Vinh will start. But based on my experience following matches over four decades, I have learned that attacking personnel decisions are often where a young coaching staff reveals its boldness or its fear. If they drop a striker, it is an admission that the problem lies with the person. If they keep the attacking lineup unchanged, it is a belief that the problem is merely bad luck. Both are reasonable. Only time will answer.

What I know for certain, and what every number agrees on: goal difference and points before the Uzbekistan clash will be the scale of destiny. If Vietnam U23 beats the Philippines and secures a solid second place, they have the right to dream of a positive result against the group leader — a team that, if already qualified, may field a rotated squad. And sometimes, youth football only needs a door left slightly ajar.

At 61, I have stopped making promises about results. I only offer observations. And my observation of Vietnam U23 before the Philippines match is this: they hold a problem that can be fixed, and they stand before an opportunity that can be lost. Modern football runs on money, but the phone call at dawn runs on trust — and in a tournament like the Asiad, the trust of a young generation is built only in the moments when they dare to put the ball in the net while everyone is watching.

Fans see a contract; I see the sleepless nights behind it. Here, fans will see a match, but I see the sleepless nights of a coach trying to cure a disease no whiteboard can cure: the fear of missing.

When the whistle blows in Nagoya, watch the first thirty minutes. If Vietnam U23 scores early, they will play with light feet and the Philippines' net may truly tear. If not, watch how they respond to the silence — because that is the true measure of a generation. Not the ability to score when everything flows, but the ability to be patient when the net is still intact and the clock is ticking.

Son Heung-min was battered by criticism in 2026, and I learned to see people without the filter of public opinion. I hope Vietnam U23 learns the same lesson in Nagoya — not through praise when they win, but through how they stand firm when the goal does not come. Because in the end, what remains after a tournament is not the scoreline. It is the question this generation will have to answer for years to come: do they have enough nerve to turn chances into goals, and pressure into character?