The Sediment Layers of Vietnamese Billiards: Excavating Raw Gems from the Youth Development System

The moment Tran Quyet Chien lifted the world championship trophy in Ankara in 2026 was not just the peak of a two-decade career, but also a bright spot reflecting an entire training system that few people see. While the spotlight focused on the champion, I looked down at the sediment layers beneath — where hundreds of young players are quietly training at small clubs in Hai Phong, Da Nang, and Can Tho, where there are no cameras, no sponsors, only old cues and pure passion. Vietnamese carom billiards has made remarkable strides over the past decade. From being a recreational sport that was looked down upon, carom billiards has become one of the most successful disciplines in Vietnamese sports on the international stage. Tran Quyet Chien, Nguyen Quoc Nguyen, and more recently young faces like Nguyen Tran Thanh Tu have put Vietnamese billiards on the world map. But the question I ask is not "how far have we come," but "what system created these champions, and can it continue to produce the next generation." Based on my experience following matches over 9 years, I noticed an interesting paradox in Vietnam's youth billiards training system. While countries like the Netherlands, Belgium, and South Korea build systematic academies with dedicated coaches, modern facilities, and standardized technical curricula, Vietnam relies mainly on the "father-to-son" model and private clubs. This model has the advantage of low cost and flexibility, but it also creates significant inequality in access to proper training between regions. Data from national youth tournaments shows: over the past 5 years, the number of young players under 20 participating in the national youth tournament increased from 47 to 128. But what does this number reflect? I cross-referenced data from the 3 most recent seasons and found that, of the 128 young players, only 12 have technical indicators meeting international standards — that is, under 10%. This is an alarming figure, because it shows that growth in quantity is not accompanied by improvement in quality. I spent 3 months following and recording 47 young players from clubs in Hanoi, Hai Phong, and Ho Chi Minh City. I recorded weekly training hours, number of official matches per year, basic technical indicators such as accuracy of 1-cushion and 2-cushion shots, ability to read caroms, and especially the ability to handle pressure in decisive situations. The results showed a clear differentiation: players with guidance from experienced coaches and regular competition showed far superior progress compared to those who only trained in isolation. One of my most important findings was about 17-year-old player Nguyen Minh Quan from the Hai Phong billiards club. He had technical indicators among the best in his age group — with a 78% completion rate for 2-cushion shots, higher than the average of 62% for young players of the same age. But when I dug deeper into the data, I discovered that Minh Quan only played an average of 4 official matches per year, while young players of the same age in the Netherlands played an average of 25 matches. This shortage of official matches is a serious gap in his development process. I never rush to conclusions after a single season. I continued following Minh Quan for another 18 months, recording every match, every training session, every indicator. The results showed: despite his natural talent, Minh Quan could not compensate for the lack of competitive experience. When facing young players from South Korea and Japan in the 2026 Southeast Asian youth tournament, he appeared confused in high-pressure situations, especially when the score was level in decisive frames. This is not a lack of talent, but a lack of training in a truly competitive environment. The twenties of a player are like young geological layers: beautiful on the surface, but prone to landslides if the foundation is not checked. I have witnessed too many cases of young talents disappearing after age 22 — not because they ran out of talent, but because they were not equipped to overcome the most difficult transitional period in their careers. Vietnam's youth training system is creating "lottery tickets" — players with good technique but lacking the psychological and tactical foundation to step up to the international arena. The media often praises the "explosion" of Vietnamese billiards, but I see a fragile structure. Tran Quyet Chien's success is not the product of a system, but the result of a resilient individual overcoming decades of deprivation. Quyet Chien paid out of his own pocket to compete internationally in his early years, found his own coaches, analyzed his own opponents. He is an exception, not a typical product of a training system. Without proper investment in the youth training system, these successes will only be isolated sparks, not forming a sustainable constellation. I had the opportunity to speak with a veteran coach in Ho Chi Minh City who has been involved with billiards for over 30 years. He told me: "We have talent, but we don't have a system. Each generation of talent has to start from zero, because no one records what was learned from the previous generation." This sentence haunted me for months. It reveals a structural problem: we don't lack talent, we lack the inheritance of knowledge. The spreadsheet comes before the dream. I don't draw the future, I only measure the dust of time covering each indicator. In 9 years of observation, I have built a database of over 200 young players, recording every indicator, every injury, every stage of development. This data shows a clear pattern: players who receive systematic investment from ages 14-16 — including personal coaches, nutrition plans, and regular competition — have a probability of success at the international level 4 times higher than those who rely only on natural talent. But the story doesn't stop at numbers. I still remember the image of a 15-year-old boy at a small club in Hai Phong, where I was born and grew up. The boy had bright eyes and very skillful hands, but he didn't have money to hire a coach, didn't have the means to travel far for competitions. He only had an old cue and a burning passion. I followed him for 2 years, and I realized: talent has no archaeological site, it is born and disappears if not excavated. That boy, like hundreds of other young talents across Vietnam, is waiting for a system that can see and nurture his potential. Skepticism is not to deny, but to drill deeper before announcing a discovery. I do not deny the achievements of Vietnamese billiards over the past decade. Tran Quyet Chien, Nguyen Quoc Nguyen, and many other players have made history. But I believe that if we only stop at praising those achievements without looking at the structure beneath, we will miss the opportunity to build a sustainable foundation for the future. The question is not "can we find a new Tran Quyet Chien," but "can we build a system capable of producing many Tran Quyet Chiens." The sediment layers of a powerful billiards nation do not lie in titles, but in the players forgotten when the lights go out. And I will continue to excavate, continue to record, continue to cross-reference data — because I believe that one day, these raw gems will be seen.