V-League's missing 'football culture': European expert traces root cause to youth development

Đoàn Văn Hậu received a red card for a dangerous challenge on Doãn Ngọc Tân, followed by a four-match suspension. In the same early-season period, Tấn Sinh and Văn Sơn committed deliberate fouls targeting Đình Bắc. Three incidents, three players, but for a European expert who has followed the V-League for years, this is not about three individuals losing control. This is the exposure of a disease nurtured for years, from the youth academies that have never taught players what genuine football culture means.

This expert, in his conversation with Dân trí, did not stop at blaming specific names. He looked behind them: a host of youth coaches trained without systematic methodology, a football environment that treats violence as part of "survival skills," and a culture that allows intimidation to seep into youth football before players even understand what their behavior means.

Based on my experience following Vietnamese football for fifteen years from Manchester, I recognize that he is painting a much larger picture than what public opinion typically attributes to individuals. The story here is not about a bad match but about a system exposing its inherent flaws.

The chain of violent incidents and the deterrence question

Within a short period, V-League matches produced a series of non-tactical fouls. Văn Hậu received a four-match ban. Tấn Sinh and Văn Sơn, in separate incidents, committed deliberate fouls on Đình Bắc, a young player performing impressively. These incidents occurred as players competed for starting spots early in the season, under harsher playing conditions, and on pitches that many places did not meet standards.

The European expert asked a direct question about the effectiveness of the current disciplinary system. If dangerous incidents keep recurring despite the sanctions imposed, he said, one must question how those sanctions are functioning. To him, a sanction has two purposes: punishment and prevention. It only succeeds when it makes a player think before launching the next tackle. If tackles repeat, if players keep going in the same way, the disciplinary system is failing — not because sanctions are too light, but because they are inconsistent. Consistency is what creates genuine deterrence.

"Records do not lie. People create records to speak lies for them."

Văn Hậu's four-match ban is a piece of data in the disciplinary record. But what deserves attention is not that number but what recurs after every sanction. If violence keeps appearing at the same frequency, the disciplinary record does not prove the system is working. It proves the opposite.

The root lies in youth development, not in cards

The most important point in the European expert's analysis is how he identifies the cause. He does not say V-League players are born aggressive. He says that the skills of controlling power — covering, tackling, handling dangerous situations — are teachable things. In Europe, they are taught systematically at academies. In Vietnam, many players arrive at the V-League without undergoing a genuine education in these skills.

"Records do not lie; people create records to speak lies." This statement applies precisely to the current youth development context. The training record of a young Vietnamese player typically documents practice sessions, match results, and technical progress. But does anyone record whether that player was taught about refereeing, whether anyone taught him to handle a dangerous tackle safely for both parties? Does anyone teach him that an opponent falling to the ground is not a moment to display strength but a moment to control the match?

These questions lead to a problem the European expert repeatedly highlighted: the quality of youth coaches. He pointed out that too many youth coaches currently rely primarily on playing experience or street football experience. This sounds reasonable in a developing football nation, but it overlooks a reality: being a good player and being a good coach are completely different skills. A person who knows how to tackle himself does not automatically know how to teach others to tackle. A person who was brutally treated on the pitch does not automatically know how to protect his students from similar damage.

The AFC coaching license system, with its C, B, A, and Pro levels, was designed to address precisely this gap. But when Vietnam's youth coaching staff are not seriously required to comply with these standards, the result is a generation of players taught by well-intentioned but method-less mentors. They teach what they experienced on the pitch, and what they experienced is often street football, where winning at all costs is all that matters.

"Every scandal has a hidden capital. I just find my way there."

In the fight against V-League violence, that hidden capital is not an individual or a specific club. The hidden capital of violence is the youth development system that has produced bad habits from the time players were teenagers.

Where are the deliberate fouls learned?

Imagine a fifteen-year-old player at a football training center in Vietnam. During training, the coach might tell him to mark tightly, to fight harder, to "battle" more. Without a proper curriculum on controlling strength, reading situations, and knowing when to pull back, the young player will learn by instinct: go in hard, fast, and without mercy.

Then he steps up to the first team. There, he watches his seniors. The seniors tackle fiercely. The seniors do not apologize. The seniors treat intimidating opponents as an art form. For a young player trying to establish himself, the message is clear: this is how adults play football.

The European expert calls this the role-model transmission mechanism. It is not just a sociological observation; it is a real learning mechanism. Young players learn from what they see, especially when what they see is rewarded with victories, starting spots, and fear from opponents.

What is more concerning is that some training environments actively encourage aggressive behavior. The European expert did not shy away from saying that some environments teach young players to play overly aggressively or even seek to intimidate opponents. At this level, violence is no longer an accident or a moment of losing control. Violence becomes a cultivated skill, a strategy taught like defending or finishing.

When these habits are formed early and reinforced through thousands of repetitions, changing them at the professional level becomes nearly impossible. The European expert pointed out that changing a young player's behavior is relatively easy. Changing a twenty-five-year-old player who has tackled that way for ten years is a completely different problem. At that stage, the reaction to a dangerous situation is no longer a decision; it is a reflex. And reflexes cannot be changed by a sanction.

That is why the European expert has persisted in repeating this message in many Dân trí interviews. He is not merely commenting on individual incidents; he is describing a pattern. When an outside observer has to repeat the same diagnosis again and again, it means the system has not moved.

Sanctions: punishment and prevention

One of the most valuable contributions of the European expert is how he defines the purpose of sanctions. According to him, a sanction has two functions: to punish past behavior and to prevent future behavior. A four-match ban punishes Văn Hậu's challenge. But does it prevent another player, in another match, from making a similar challenge?

The answer depends on two things: severity and consistency. If sanctions are too light, players may be willing to pay the price. If sanctions are inconsistent, players will believe they can be the exception. Both cases lead to system failure.

"Clean is different from transparent. One is perfume; the other is double-entry books."

A good disciplinary system must be transparent, not merely strict on paper. Heavy penalties that are not applied uniformly create a sense of injustice, making players and fans doubt the league's fairness. Conversely, a system that treats similar situations under the same standard, even with lighter penalties, creates far greater deterrence.

The European expert also placed responsibility on both VFF and VPF. He did not allow these two organizations to shift blame to each other. When a league continuously faces incidents like those seen, responsibility belongs to both the national football governing body and the league operator. Their current coordination, in his assessment, has not created a coherent handling system. Without coordination, reform will be postponed indefinitely.

Rain, pitch quality, and result pressure

Environmental factors cannot be ignored when discussing on-field violence. V-League matches often take place in harsh weather. Many pitches are degraded, slippery, balls bounce unpredictably, and players lose control in duels. The pressure of competing for starting positions early in the season further intensifies everything. But the European expert emphasized that these are contributing factors, not root causes. Improving pitches will reduce risk but will not change the behavior of a player taught that tackling as hard as possible is the best way to survive.

Result pressure is the same. A coach facing the risk of losing his job will not care much about teaching his players to control their strength. He needs immediate results, and a player who tackles fiercely can provide short-term advantage. This is a vicious circle: competitive incentives create violent behavior, violent behavior creates injuries, injuries create sanctions, and sanctions do not change the competitive incentives. To break this cycle, one must change how success is defined at the youth level, before players learn to view intimidating opponents as part of football.

Looking at Europe and the lesson of integration

At Europe's top football academies, tackling skills are taught in structured ways from a very early age. Players learn not only how to win the ball; they learn how to read situations, how to use their bodies, and how to know when a challenge is too risky. They are taught that fouls are part of the game, but dangerous fouls are unacceptable. They are taught responsibility toward opponents, not just toward their own team.

That is not weakness. That is sophistication, and it is taught alongside individual technique and physical conditioning. A player who knows how to tackle legally and timely, preventing the opponent from counter-attacking, is always worth many times more than a player who only knows how to tackle hard to make opponents scared. This difference is not physical; it is in how players are trained. It proves that what the V-League lacks is not talented players but an educational foundation that can turn talent into genuine professionalism.

The long road and realistic expectations

Youth development reform cannot be completed in one season, or even in one World Cup cycle. But that does not mean it cannot begin. Tightening the coaching license requirements for youth coaches is one concrete, measurable step. Building a curriculum for safe tackling in youth training centers is another concrete step. And equally important, applying sanctions consistently at the professional level will send a clear message throughout the system: intimidation on the pitch is not the path to success.

The European expert called on governing bodies to treat discipline as a development tool, not just a punishment tool. Each sanction should be assessed not only by its severity but by its impact on future behavior. If incidents do not decrease after a series of sanctions, the system's design needs review, not just harsher punishment figures.

When I watch V-League matches on screens in Manchester, I often wonder: has any young Vietnamese player, hungry for a national team call-up, ever been taught that football is not only about winning but also about self-control in adversity? Has anyone taught him that a challenge that injures an opponent could destroy his own career?

"Football does not go bankrupt. Someone engineers the bankruptcy to pick up the pieces."

In this context, what is being picked up is not money but victories won through opponents' fear, starting spots gained through intimidation, and trophies lifted amid foul whistles. Who benefits when a player is forced out of a match through injury? Who benefits when a young talent is afraid, hesitant, unwilling to show skill for fear of being hacked down? The answer lies not only with the direct individuals but with a system that allows violence to become a competitive tool.

There is pressure to acknowledge a hard truth: a nation's responsibility does not stop at finding the best players; it also includes creating an environment for them to develop without resorting to tricks. The football culture of fans, managers, coaches, and veteran players all shapes that environment. When every stakeholder accepts a violent norm, that norm sustains itself. Conversely, when enough stakeholders speak out, that norm can be changed.

Đình Bắc's experience in recent matches is worth considering. Two players deliberately fouling him in the same match is not a random coincidence; it suggests calculated action. This shows the problem lies not only in education but also in the policy of preventing intimidation. An effective refereeing and disciplinary system must protect skillful players, those who face the greatest pressure from intimidation tactics. Can the V-League prove it can do this?

The real question is not whether VFF and VPF will increase sanctions. The real question is whether they will build a system — from coach education to disciplinary enforcement — that can change how players think about football. If the answer is no, what we see today will keep repeating, not only with Văn Hậu or Đình Bắc but with a whole new generation raised in the old environment.

Clean is different from transparent, and the V-League needs transparency now more than ever. A league that wants to develop sustainably must clearly demonstrate its standards, not only in regulatory documents but in actual enforcement, in how it treats players who speak out against violence, and in how it views strategically calculated fouls. That transparency will be the foundation for building trust — trust from players, fans, and international partners.

The European expert has traced the hidden capital of V-League violence: a youth development system producing dangerous habits. Every scandal has a hidden capital, and I, as an investigative sports journalist, have found my way there. But finding the hidden capital is not the endpoint. What matters more is the determination of Vietnamese football's leaders to dismantle that darkness, turning warnings into real action. Only when light shines from the roots of youth development can the V-League truly eliminate violence from its pitches.