Losing Van Vi, Hoang Duc, Duy Manh: What is Vietnam losing that Jakarta hasn't seen?

At a sidewalk café in Jakarta, sports newspapers are splashing headlines about the absence of three key players from the Vietnam national team before the FIFA ASEAN Cup. Some are gleeful, some are analytical, but few actually ask: What does this absence say about the identity of Vietnamese football? When a team loses important pieces, the void left behind is not just a gap in personnel, but a mirror reflecting how the team has operated. For me, football is not just about statistics; football is the story of empty spaces, and today, that story is being told from Jakarta. The context of this story is the FIFA ASEAN Cup 2026 finals, where Vietnam is considered one of the top contenders. They are in a group seen as more manageable than other potential opponents. However, in recent days, consecutive pieces of bad news have come to fans. Defender Van Vi, midfielder Hoang Duc, and center-back Duy Manh are all injured and cannot play in the opening match. Notably, Indonesian media quickly posted articles expressing optimism about their team's chances. They look at Vietnam's absent list as a gift from heaven. But I remember a quote from Coach Kim Sang Sik in a recent training session: "Football is not one person, but eleven." And I believe that is not just a cliché. Let's start with the most mentioned name: Van Vi. In Vietnam's squad under Coach Kim Sang Sik, Van Vi plays the role of an air vent. He is a modern full-back, not only solid defensively but often pushing forward to support attacks. Speed is Van Vi's lethal weapon. He is often used as a tactical lever to quickly move the ball from the defensive half to the attacking line. When the team faces pressure from opponents, Van Vi is one of the most important escape points. He doesn't just run; he moves intelligently into the space behind the opponent's defenders. Without Van Vi, Vietnam's counterattacks will certainly lose a spearhead on the left flank. Opposing defenders can then feel more comfortable pushing high, knowing that few can exploit the space behind. But the question is: Has Coach Kim Sang Sik prepared a suitable replacement? Next is Hoang Duc, one of the most technically skilled midfielders in Vietnamese football today. Everyone knows Hoang Duc is the conductor of attacks. In the 3-0 win over Indonesia in the previous match, it was Hoang Duc who made two decisive passes, directly creating the goal for Van Vi to open the scoring and then a crucial assist. But what matters more is not just the final pass. Hoang Duc controls the rhythm of the game. He has the ability to hold the ball and move it smartly, helping the team control the match tempo. Without Hoang Duc, Vietnam's midfield may lose the connection between the lines. Indonesia could exploit the space between Vietnam's midfield and defense, as replacements, though talented, lack the understanding and international experience he has. As for Duy Manh, although not mentioned much in Indonesian media's tactical analysis, he is an experienced center-back, a true leader in defense. His absence also creates a much bigger mental gap than technical one. But now comes the most interesting part: Contrarian view. Indonesians might be laughing at our losses, but have they seen everything that awaits? I remember at the 2026 World Cup, South Korea lost key players but still wrote their own miracle story. Football is a team sport, and if a system is solidly built, it will create new heroes itself. Vietnam under Kim Sang Sik's philosophy is not a team that depends on one or two individuals. They are a collective with a disciplined culture and courageous spirit. Moreover, young players like Van Khang, Hai Long, or Quang Hai all have the ability to fill the gap if given the opportunity. In fact, this is the time for young leaves to test themselves in the big forest. However, optimism is not enough. We must soberly recognize a structural weakness. Looking at Vietnam's recent football history, we see a big dependence on certain individuals in major tournaments. When Van Lam was unavailable, or when Que Ngoc Hai was absent, our defense often faltered. This does not come from the quality of backup players, but from the lack of a tactical system that can operate smoothly with different personnel. Kim Sang Sik has tried to build a flexible style, but time is limited. The injury to three pillars at a crucial time is a big challenge. I have followed Southeast Asian football for many years, witnessing many teams that once hoped and then collapsed. Some teams lose one star and completely fall apart; others see it as an opportunity to create a new generation. Vietnam fits the latter. Because in our country, the list of emerging players has never run dry. From the U23 generation that won SEA Games under Coach Park Hang Seo to the current young players trained at top academies like PVF or HAGL Academy, replacement is entirely within reach. More importantly, this is not just a professional issue but also a psychological math problem. Indonesian media are blowing up our absence as a huge advantage. But if that makes them overconfident, it could become poison for themselves. Football never rewards the arrogant. I have seen strong teams fall simply because they believed victory was in hand. From another angle, looking deep into Vietnam's playing style, we can see that the absence of Van Vi and Hoang Duc forces the team to play more directly, utilizing the strength of young strikers like Nguyen Tien Linh or Nham Manh Dung. Instead of small combination play, Vietnam might switch to more long passes from midfielders capable of long balls like Nguyen Quang Hai. This could turn us into a more unpredictable team, as opponents won't easily grasp our attacking pattern. The Jakarta Post had an interesting article saying: "Vietnam doesn't have Van Vi, Hoang Duc, Duy Manh. They still have just 11 players anyway." This inadvertently states a modern football philosophy: A team is never one person. But there is one thing they don't mention: Vietnam's youth development policy over the past five years has created a pool of backup players not much inferior to the starting lineup. That is the result of a process, not luck. Incidentally, I remember a quote from writer Nam Cao in "Chi Pheo": "The old abandoned brick kiln," but in football, we cannot afford to leave any position abandoned. The gap left by Van Vi, Hoang Duc, and Duy Manh could be seen as an old kiln, but its soil is still fertile. If we dare to sow seeds, spring will sprout. Vietnamese fans often take pride in the fighting spirit of their players. They believe that once the team steps onto the pitch, their hearts will beat in unison. And today, we don't need a dry tactical analysis. We need faith in the collective. Because football is a sport where the ball can roll in any direction, and every space can be filled with desire. In the coming days, Coach Kim Sang Sik will have a headache to make choices. But I believe he has more than one solution in mind. Let's remember that in a match, there are eleven positions, and changing personnel is part of the game. If everyone looks at the big picture, we will see that even if the forest loses a few trees, the forest is still a forest. Perfection lies not in having enough stars, but in how each person compensates for others. So, from a football perspective, I believe this is not a time for panic. This is a time to look back at our foundations. Modern football has shown that united underdogs can beat fragmented favorites. Indonesia may have an advantage in manpower, but do they have unity? That is a question we cannot answer before the match. For me, I still want to see an image: at the national stadium, a young player wearing number 14, trying to prove something. He is not the shadow of Hoang Duc, but he embodies the Vietnamese spirit. Football never dies; only people are replaced. And every time a door closes, another opens. Look at the history of encounters between Vietnam and Indonesia. In recent meetings, Vietnam often had the upper hand. But injuries spare no one. Three of Vietnam's pillars will miss the tournament, but that is the rule of sports. Is Jakarta looking at them with goosebumps? Let's wait and see. Farewell to Van Vi, Hoang Duc, Duy Manh in this tournament. A part of us will also miss them in our hearts. But that is how sport teaches us to appreciate the value of presence. And in football, when you lose something, you begin to discover things you never noticed before. The ASEAN Cup is coming very close. I want to tell you that no matter who takes the field, we will always cheer for the team. Because those colors and the flag are a homeland we have chosen. People who make football like us, we are sleepwalkers wearing cleats, searching for dreams on the grass and in the fans' hearts. And if there is a moment when you see a yellow leaf fall in the middle of the field, remember that the pine forest still stands there. It has stood through many storms. This storm will pass, and when it does, the sun will return. I write these lines from a corner of Seoul, where none of the ASEAN Cup matches are broadcast, but my heart still turns to the pitch there, where players are like leaves preparing to face a wind named Indonesia. Will they hold on? Yes, if they believe in their root and origin. We don't need to prove anything to Jakarta. We need to prove to ourselves that Vietnamese football has no limits. Injury is just a rock on the road, and that rock will be a stepping stone if we know how to use it. Let us wait and see, in the opening match, who will stand up, who will be mentioned. To all those who are worried, I want to say: trust Coach Kim Sang Sik, who led the South Korean team through many hardships, and he now has a collective with a spirit tempered through generations. The absence of these three players is not a catastrophe but an opportunity to build a stronger, more complete squad. Finally, remember that in the heart of every Vietnamese, football is not just a game but a national pride. Regardless of the result, we will always dedicate the most sacred feelings to the team. When the whistle blows, the singing of the fans will be the most precious spiritual medicine. I will meet you again on the stands, somewhere, where our hearts beat together. As for writers, we will always listen to the soul of each match, telling stories that the score never fully reflects. Because football, as I often say, is an unfinished love song, where the one leaving has not yet said goodbye, the one arriving already feels they belong. Let this season be a poem, and injuries are rests, so the whole piece becomes more beautiful.