Former player Tuan Phong: 3 identical matches, U23 Vietnam missed too many chances

From the press area this afternoon, there was no final whistle in the way fans had hoped. The match against Uzbekistan ended 0-2, but the moment I remember most is not the two goals. Lê Đình Long Vũ left the pitch with heavy steps. In the 34th minute, a diagonal pass from Uzbekistan flew over his head and landed exactly in the gap between him and the left-sided centre-back. It was an astonishingly wide gap. Former international Nguyễn Tuấn Phong put down his notebook and said: “Three matches, one identical script. U23 Vietnam did not lose because of luck. They lost because of the very spaces they created themselves.” The quarter-final ticket at Asiad 2026 was already in the hands of Vietnam's young players before the referee ended the match against Uzbekistan. Along with hosts Uzbekistan, U23 Vietnam advanced to the knockout stage – a minimal goal for a football nation in a rebuilding phase. Looking at the three group matches as a chain, however, the picture is far from rosy. Nguyễn Tuấn Phong pointed out that all three games repeated the same pattern: good ball control, many chances created, but poor finishing; and a defence that conceded “too easily” in situations that, at continental level, are punished immediately. Tactically, coach Đinh Hồng Vinh chose a three-centre-back system, a modern structure that demands strong cohesion between positions. In the first half, Vietnam kept the ball without too much trouble against Uzbekistan. His players passed slowly and patiently, but the higher they pushed, the more they hit a physical wall that the Central Asian side deliberately built. The first fault line was the left flank. Lê Đình Long Vũ, tasked with pushing forward, was repeatedly exposed to the space behind him. Uzbekistan's forwards deliberately focused attacks there, forcing Long Vũ deep and dragging the left centre-back out of position. The other two centre-backs could not cover in time to form a unified defensive block. Tuấn Phong described the defence with a striking image: “They played like strangers meeting in an elevator for the first time. They share the same space, but they do not speak the same language.” The absence of first-choice centre-backs Hiểu Minh and Nhật Minh forced the trio of Đức Anh, Lê Nguyên Hoàng and Phạm Lý Đức into a critical match together. No single individual can be blamed; this is the consequence of a thin squad at a position where modern football demands maximum stability. When two first-choice centre-backs are missing, the defence loses not only personnel, but also a common language. Early in the second half, coach Đinh Hồng Vinh replaced Long Vũ with Phi Hoàng, and the left flank improved noticeably. That is a positive signal about the staff's ability to read the game. But the problem is that every adjustment was reactive, not preventive. A team that must concede before solving its own riddle will pay a heavy price in the knockout round. Based on my experience watching these matches, the difference between an energetic young team and one that knows how to win lies precisely in the ability to correct mistakes before the ball crosses the line. Above the defence, the absence of a defensive midfielder became even clearer. In the Uzbekistan match, the central midfield pair was Xuân Bắc and Nguyễn Thái Quốc Cường – two clearly attack-minded players. Neither of them dropped deep to shield the back three. Tuấn Phong called this the gap named “a Thái Sơn” – the true holding midfielder who sacrifices glamour to protect the space in front of the box. He wondered aloud whether a national youth team really cannot find such a player in its squad list. The answer lies in the structure of Vietnamese youth development over many years, where attacking players are valued far above the silent workers of the midfield. The story at the other end was no better. U23 Vietnam had the ball and had ideas, but no real “finisher”. Đình Bắc – a player capable of creating a moment from nothing – was not present at this tournament. His absence both reduced the attack's creative depth and exposed the limitations of the chances the team created: shots that opponents read easily, and final touches lacking sharpness. A shot off the post creates no goal, but it strips bare a truth: this team lacks someone willing to take responsibility in front of goal. Now is the time to say what few want to hear. Vietnam's quarter-final ticket owes something to the team, but also a great deal to the group. Kuwait and the Philippines were not opponents capable of challenging the two stronger sides. Uzbekistan were the stronger side, but Vietnam's story is not about the opponent. It is about how this team operates. Nguyễn Tuấn Phong said plainly that the current squad is “weaker than itself” – a direct comparison with the generation that finished third at the 2026 AFC U23 Asian Cup, where Vietnam beat South Korea on penalties in the third-place match. Compared with the Kim Sang Sik era, this squad is thinner in depth and weaker in composure. When a former international dares to say that publicly, it is not pessimism but a responsible warning. The paradox I want to stress is this: U23 Vietnam control the ball a great deal, but that control becomes a false shield. It makes fans – and even the players themselves – believe they are safe. The reality on the pitch is a defence with excessive distance between positions, a midfield pushed too high, and an attack without a killer. Three identical matches are no longer a coincidence. They are an indictment of a system exposing its own limits. U23 Vietnam control the ball the way one controls fear: the tighter the grip, the more fragile it becomes. Ahead lies the quarter-final, likely against South Korea or Saudi Arabia. Both sides possess the speed and power to punish Vietnam immediately when possession is lost in midfield. What U23 Vietnam need most now is not a tactical revolution but humility: accept surrendering the ball, accept defending in numbers, and wait for transition moments. To do that, however, they need a genuinely cohesive defence – something that has not appeared in the past three matches. If Hiểu Minh and Nhật Minh do not return in time, and if nobody steps in to shield the back three, the dream of a semi-final will be very distant. Vietnamese football has created miracles from makeshift squads before. The question is not whether they have enough talent, but whether they have enough courage to embrace a gritty style, to play ugly and play smart against physically superior opponents. Tuấn Phong would perhaps frame it with a simple line: “Football does not reward regret. Learn to be happy with ugly wins before dreaming of perfect, beautiful football.”