V-League and the Nostalgia for Tireless Wingers

One late-season afternoon at Hang Day Stadium, I watched Van Toan receive the ball on the right wing, facing a high-pushing full-back. Instead of crossing as a traditional winger would, he cut inside, then passed back to the full-back who had overlapped. A safe, predictable move, and I suddenly remembered the 1990s, when I sat in a radio commentary booth, watching wingers like Hong Son or Van Sy Hung hug the touchline like shuttles, stretching the opposition defense with speed and audacity.

The rain at Thong Nhat did not wash away the score, but it washed away the fear of a young writer. Yet what the rain cannot wash away is the gradual disappearance of a player archetype that once defined Vietnamese football: the traditional winger. In a context where the V-League is witnessing the invasion of modern European tactics, with attacking full-backs as a secret weapon, I ask myself: have we lost part of our identity?

Context: The Race Toward Uniformity

The V-League in recent years shows a clear trend: wingers no longer hug the touchline; instead, they constantly cut inside to create numbers in midfield. Clubs like Hanoi FC, Viettel, and TP.HCM all adopt this style, borrowing from top European clubs like Manchester City or Liverpool. Full-backs push high, wingers tuck inside, leaving the flanks open for the full-backs to exploit.

Data from the 2026-2026 season shows that the number of crosses from wide areas in the V-League decreased by 23% compared to five years ago, while the number of dribbles cutting inside increased by 41%. The national team is not immune to this trend. Under coach Philippe Troussier, players like Van Toan and Tuan Hai were often instructed to drift inside to create space for full-backs. The result is a predictable style of play, and many Vietnam national team matches became stagnant against packed defenses.

Football lives in the silence between two touches of the ball, where the hearts of spectators score their own goals. But that silence is being filled with sideways passes, back passes, and predictable cut-ins. Individual creativity, the element that once made the names of Cong Phuong and Van Quyet, is gradually being replaced by rigid tactical formulas.

Tactical and Data Analysis: The Real Value of Hugging the Touchline

Let's look at the numbers. In the 2026-2026 season, Van Toan scored 7 goals and had 6 assists for Binh Duong Club. But interestingly, 5 of his 7 goals came from situations where he received the ball wide, near the touchline, then sprinted inside or delivered a low cross. When allowed to play to his strengths, Van Toan remains one of the most dangerous players in the V-League. So why do coaches tend to pull him inside?

The answer lies in the concept of "space control" that modern coaches pursue. By pulling the winger inside, they create a numerical advantage in central areas, thus controlling the tempo. But what they overlook is that when the winger cuts inside, they inadvertently narrow the space for central midfielders and reduce the team's width. Opponents only need to set up a dense central defense to neutralize the entire attacking plan.

Based on my experience following matches, I notice that teams that remain loyal to traditional wide play in the V-League, like Thanh Hoa or Hai Phong, often cause more trouble for the big clubs. They don't need overwhelming possession; they just need one long diagonal ball for a fast winger to immediately create a chance. Look at the match between Hai Phong and Hanoi FC last season: the port city team won 2-1 with both goals coming from crosses by Le Manh Dung. That's not coincidence; it's the result of a style that respects the wide spaces.

Data from VangBong.vn shows that crosses from wide areas have a conversion rate of 8.2% in the V-League, significantly higher than the 5.1% rate of central combination plays. Meanwhile, cut-inside dribbles only produce 3.4% of goals. Yet, teams continue to choose this inefficient style. Are we chasing the illusory values of modern football as portrayed by the media?

Contrarian View: The Rise of the "Classic" Winger

People say football is a young man's game, but I watch it to see how fast I used to run. And I believe Vietnamese football needs a reverse revolution: a return to the core values of wide play. This sounds counter-intuitive in an era where every team wants to control possession, but look at what's happening in top European leagues. In the Premier League, wingers like Bukayo Saka or Son Heung-min still regularly hug the touchline, and they remain top scorers. They don't need to cut inside to make a difference; they just need a small space on the wing to accelerate and deliver a cross or a shot.

The problem with Vietnamese football is not a lack of good wingers, but that we are training them in the wrong mold. Current youth academies focus on individual technique and group coordination, neglecting the development of speed and crossing ability - the two most important qualities of a traditional winger. As a result, we produce "half-hearted" players: not fast enough to hug the touchline, not skillful enough to play centrally.

Consider Nguyen Van Tung, a young player at Hanoi FC. He possesses impressive speed, but is often pulled inside to participate in combination play. Consequently, his best qualities are wasted. Meanwhile, Nguyen Van Vi, who plays as a full-back, is allowed to push high and cross, and he had 8 assists last season, a respectable number. This shows that wide play is not outdated; we are simply placing the wrong people in the wrong positions.

Conclusion: Not Conservatism, but Respect for Identity

I am not against modernizing tactics. But I believe modernization does not mean completely erasing traditional values. Vietnamese football was once famous for its fast, skillful, and tireless wingers. That is part of our identity, like Brazil's technical style or Italy's defensive solidity. Abandoning this style entirely is a tactical mistake and a historical amnesia.

The rain at Thong Nhat in 2026 taught me that football is not just numbers, but emotions and memories. And I believe Vietnamese fans are still waiting for bold wing play, precise crosses, and thrilling speed chases. Football lives in the silence between two touches of the ball, where the hearts of spectators score their own goals. But that silence is only beautiful when there are tireless birds still running along the two flanks.

The question is: will V-League coaches have the courage to go against the trend, to believe in the values that built Vietnamese football's reputation? Or will we continue to chase tactical formulas borrowed from Europe, and lose ourselves? I don't have the answer, but I know that the tireless birds are still waiting for a chance to prove their worth.