Two Strikers and the Champion’s Blind Spot

On that evening, goalkeeper Đặng Văn Lâm embraced Nguyễn Xuân Son amid a sea of flags with yellow stars. The championship trophy was lifted, and people began to forget one number: 10 of the team’s total goals had come from only two starting strikers. I once asked coach Deschamps whether an 19-year-old boy could handle the weight of an entire nation’s expectations, and I received a mocking smile from a colleague. "Again that emotional girly question." But then the whole of France cried with joy. The same happened tonight: all Vietnam exploded in happiness, yet I could not stop staring at the long shadow of dependence trailing behind the cup. Vietnam’s journey in the recent ASEAN championship was like a symphony built for two soloists. Every attacking move, every central combination always sought out two familiar names up front. They scored, they made the difference and they were celebrated after winning the Golden Boot at earlier tournaments. Supporters love them, the coaching staff trust them, and the media treat them as symbols of attacking power. But if we look deeper at the collective mechanics, I realize opponents had seen it too: neutralise the two number nines, and the whole system will choke. Let me be clear: this article is not intended to criticise the two strikers. They have done everything possible, even exceeding expectations. The real issue is the rest of the squad has no alternative attacking plan when the pillars are neutralised. In the semi-final, the opponents deliberately dropped deep and defended their penalty area. Fans expected wingers to cut inside, but the decisive moment still came from a piece of individual brilliance by a striker. A team’s success should not be defined by luck in decisive moments, but by the capacity to recreate chances once the opponent understands you. Based on my experience following the team in recent campaigns, I can confirm one thing: the team play best when the two strikers are allowed to drift wide, receive the ball from the second line and run into pockets behind the defence. But when opponents press high, those pockets disappear. What worries me is not finishing skill, but the tactical gap between midfield and attack. When the ball reaches those two forwards, they are often isolated among three or four defenders. No midfielder moves into the box to stretch the defence, no wide forward drifts inside to pick up the second ball. As I once wrote about a noisy transfer window: "That transfer window was not just a deal; it was a crack in the whole of football." The crack inside this national team is the linear dependence on creative individuals in attack. Look back at the group-stage matches. Against weaker opponents, the attack scored easily through physical power and superior class. Against an organised defence like Thailand’s, everything became harder. They did not press high; they blocked central passing lanes and forced us to cross from wide areas. Aerial duels are not the main strength of the current strikers, exposing the lack of tactical variety. I took detailed notes during three crucial matches and noticed that the team’s success rate in aerial duels was only average. Not because of height, but because of poor positioning and inadequate support from the second line. Another story I always care about is the players on the bench. They rarely get a chance in crisis moments. The coach can replace one striker with another, but if they belong to the same profile of central forward expecting service from deep, the change is merely cosmetic. I remember during the latter half of the final, when the stamina of the two main forwards began to fade, the bench could not provide a different voice. The substitute brought energy, yet the system stood still. A team that wants to win repeatedly needs at least three attacking solutions. This team has one very good and effective solution, but it is more fragile than supporters think. In 2026, I learned to listen to football with the heart when stadiums were empty. I understood that behind every tactic are human beings, and behind every goal is the unnamed pressure placed on young players. Our two strikers are no longer young, but they still carry the expectations of an entire nation. When they score, everything looks easy. When they are closed down, the surrounding players do not know where to find a goal. If we keep building the team around these two individuals without investing in attacking midfielders or developing full-backs who can score, the current cycle of success may end sooner than expected. Of course, I admit my perspective can be rejected by those who believe in immediate results. To them, winning the title is enough, and the future will take care of itself. But they cannot deny that in the most difficult moments, the intricate midfield combinations almost never produced a penetrating pass. Could I be wrong? Perhaps I am being too harsh by applying European standards to a national team still developing in Southeast Asia. Recent victories may create a confident mentality that helps the next generation improve, and depending on two stars is only a transitional stage. If young players receive more playing time in friendlies, the issue I raise will gradually be solved. A woman says a small thing; they laugh at her. Five years later, they repeat it. I do not need five years to prove my point. I only need to look at what happened to teams that once won titles thanks to a golden generation and then disappeared when that generation declined. The national team needs more than a plan built on two names. It needs a clear playing philosophy, small-group combination drills so midfielders gain confidence entering the box, and attacking full-backs used as tactical weapons. If we wait until the two strikers can no longer play before we start changing, today’s champion will become a memory in the blink of an eye. What I want to tell Vietnamese supporters is not to stop celebrating. Celebrate as much as you want, because this victory deserves every sacrifice. But after the golden confetti falls, look at the youth academies, listen to the post-match press conferences, and ask whether we already have a generation of midfielders creative enough to deliver when the two pillars are isolated. If not, that will be the biggest problem for Vietnamese football in the next five years. And if someone laughs when I talk about this dependence on the very night of the title, I am ready to wait for the moment they bring it up again, whether with regret or with acknowledgement.