Roar on Hangzhou Soil: When Vietnamese Girls Face Their Destiny at Asiad 20

On September 14 at 2 PM, Shanghai's stadium opened its gates to a match that I — with 38 years navigating the pages of sports journalism — knew was more than 90 minutes of ball rolling. It was 90 minutes reshaping the trajectory of a generation of female footballers standing on the edge between faith and despair. Vietnam's women's national team entered their match against Taiwan (China) with Group A at Asiad 20 already taking shape like a framed painting: Japan — a team I've followed through generations, from Homare Sawa to the young talents of today — had virtually secured their quarterfinal spot with disciplined play and the composure of an Asian women's football powerhouse. But beneath that mountain, the battle for the second ticket to the knockout stage was truly an epic about ambition, where Thailand, Taiwan (China), and Vietnam itself were composing each note with sweat and tears. I recall an interview years ago with a former Vietnamese female footballer who said: "Every international match is a test of youth and willpower." That sentence has echoed in my mind as I followed the team's preparation. Coach Hoang Van Phuc's squad was in Suzhou — a city I visited nearly two decades ago, when its ancient streets still bore the footprints of merchants from the Tang Dynasty. Now, these Vietnamese girls were stepping onto that same land, not to sell goods, but to bring back glory. The two friendly matches in Suzhou were tactical experiments Coach Hoang Van Phuc needed to measure his squad's resilience. The 1-0 win over Jiangsu Suning FC was a crucial stepping stone — it showed Vietnam's women's team still retained their attacking identity, still knew how to exploit opponent weaknesses even when that opponent wasn't a national team. But the 0-3 loss to China's women's national team was the real lesson I want to analyze deeply. When China's women's team pressed with terrifying pace, I imagined that scene through reports and clips sent back by sports journalists. It wasn't merely a defeat on the scoreboard. It was a lesson in rhythm, in how a continental powerhouse operates under competitive conditions. Coach Hoang Van Phuc — a man I've conversed with several times at V-League press conferences — is no pushover tactician. He understood that a 0-3 loss to China could be bitter medicine, but the right dose to make the team sharper, humbler, and — most importantly — aware of where they stand on Asian women's football's map. Leaving Suzhou, Vietnam's women's team carried what I call "the maturity of distilled disappointment." The players were no longer girls trembling before stronger opponents. They had looked directly into the mirror of failure and reshaped themselves from it. Taiwan (China) — their direct opponent on September 14 — was no stranger. For me, someone who has followed Vietnamese women's football since its earliest days, every encounter between the two teams is a new chapter in the unfinished autobiography of Vietnamese women's football. The head-to-head record shows 10 official matches: Vietnam won 5, drew 2, lost 3. A slight advantage, but not enough for absolute confidence, because football is never written with the past. In 2026, at the Asiad arena, the two teams produced a match I remember vividly: 0-0 after 90 minutes, then Taiwan (China) won on penalties 4-3. The memory of that penalty shootout still lingers like a scar on the shoulders of those who were present. But football always allows people to rewrite their story, and the upcoming match is the blank page for them to pen a new ending. Last March, at the Asian Cup, Vietnam's women's team lost to Taiwan (China) 0-1. That was a painful defeat, not because of the scoreline, but because of how our team approached that match — somewhat lacking the necessary ruthlessness in key moments. That loss was a bruise on the collective memory of the squad, and I believe that very bruise will be the strongest underground motivation in the upcoming match. From a tactical perspective — because I always believe football is built from numbers and diagrams, even if my prose seems to wander — the match against Taiwan (China) will revolve around three main axes. First, midfield control: Taiwan (China) typically plays with a 4-4-2 or 4-3-3 formation, focusing on wide attacks and fast counterattacks. Vietnam's women's team needs to maintain a solid midfield, limiting the opponent's space to infiltrate from the flanks. Second, efficiency in set pieces: this is a crucial weapon that Coach Hoang Van Phuc has thoroughly studied throughout their training in Suzhou. Third, and perhaps most importantly, is mental strength. In football, when two teams are evenly matched, the deciding factor lies not in technique or fitness, but in willpower — in how the girls handle pressure when the referee's whistle blows, when the stands fall silent or erupt, when the ball rolls past their feet and the entire world shrinks into that single moment. I have witnessed too many matches where the favored team collapsed against supposedly weaker opponents. The 2026 World Cup, my German team — the defending champions — lost 0-2 to South Korea and exited the tournament in the group stage. Not because they played poorly. Because they had forgotten fear. They had forgotten how to fight as if everything was at stake. For Vietnam's women's team, the match against Taiwan (China) on September 14 is precisely when they need to remember that — not the fear of losing, but the desire to win. Group A at Asiad 20 is not merely a group stage. It is a small ecosystem where every match has consequences. If Vietnam's women's team defeats Taiwan (China), they will hold a significant advantage in the race for the quarterfinal berth, while generating strong momentum for the next match against Thailand — an opponent I also hold in high regard and always consider a dangerous contender in Southeast Asia. Conversely, if they fail to achieve a favorable result, pressure will weigh heavily on the red-shirted girls in the remaining matches, and the path to the quarterfinals will become far more arduous. I think about the lives of Vietnamese female footballers. They are not like their male counterparts — no 50,000-seat stadiums, no million-dollar contracts, no nights of roaring at My Dinh. They play football in the relative silence of training grounds, under the sweltering heat of quiet V-League afternoons, on economy-class flights to international tournaments. Yet they remain standing, running, shooting, falling, and rising again. Every international match for them is an affirmation that Vietnamese women's football deserves to be seen, heard, and respected. On September 14, when the referee's whistle echoes through Shanghai, I will not be there. But I know I will be here, in Binh Duong, in a small room filled with memories and papers, reading each line of news, imagining each play, and writing about what I understand: that football is not merely a game, but the language of those without a loud enough voice to be heard. Vietnam's women's national team is speaking, and the world needs to listen. As for the match? I place my faith in Coach Hoang Van Phuc — a man who has proven he knows how to build a team not only with tactics, but with spirit. Sound strategy, minimized errors, and capitalizing on every opportunity — that is the formula football has taught me through nearly four decades of following the sport. And with the head-to-head record slightly favoring Vietnam, with the lesson from the Asian Cup defeat in March, with the state refined through two friendlies in Suzhou — I believe Vietnam's women's team has enough strength to leave Shanghai with a result they deserve. The ball will roll. Applause will echo. And the Vietnamese girls will write a new page, not with the scars of the past, but with the footprints of the present — where every stride is a declaration that they have never given up.