Vietnam National Team and the Fitness Dilemma: When V-League Rhythm Becomes Advantage or Burden?

Rostov taught me one thing: football doesn't need an audience, it needs someone who knows how to tell a story. But the real story sometimes lies in numbers no one bothers to look at — like the average heart rate of a Vietnamese player after 90 minutes, or the kilometers run throughout an exhausting V-League season.

Over three decades of following football from Belgrade to Tokyo, I've witnessed countless national teams stumble not because of poor technique, but because their stamina couldn't keep up with tactical plans. Vietnam National Team under coach Kim Sang-sik is facing exactly this dilemma — a problem whose answer doesn't lie in the gym or the rehabilitation room, but in how the V-League itself is operated.

Empty stadium, but memories queue long on the stands.

Seven years ago, at a Yokohama FC training session, I watched goalkeeper Nguyen Van Toan — then just 21 — dive to punch the ball in a flying posture. His gloves were worn out, but his eyes still shone like the streetlights of Hanoi on winter nights. I don't know what became of him later, but I know this: a goalkeeper who plays many V-League matches will have better reflexes than any fitness training session.

The question is: are Vietnamese players playing enough?

Based on data I've collected over many seasons, an average V-League player competes in about 25-30 matches per season (including national cup and AFC Cup). This figure is significantly lower than J-League 2 (35-40 matches) or K-League 1 (40-45 matches). When Vietnam NT assembles, they typically call up 5-7 players from Hanoi Police Club and 4-6 from Quang Nam or Nam Dinh — teams that play with high intensity but against uneven quality opponents.

They might not reach 1.8 meters, but they look at the goal with their hearts. But their legs need more than hearts — they need endurance built through hundreds of competitive matches.

Height cannot measure courage, but kilometers run can.

Vietnam's loss to Indonesia in the 2026 World Cup qualifiers — though it happened over a year ago — remains a crack in many fans' memories. I rewatched that match footage seven times. On the third viewing, I noticed the moment in the 72nd minute: a Vietnamese player lost the ball in midfield, tried to chase but couldn't catch up. Not because of technique, but because his legs were tired.

In modern football, the average distance covered by a player in 90 minutes ranges from 9 to 11 kilometers. Top Asian teams like Japan and South Korea have this figure at 10.5-11.2 kilometers. Vietnam NT, based on my observations in international matches, typically hovers around 9.3-9.8 kilometers — a gap clearly visible.

This isn't about willpower. This is about how fitness is built.

One of the inherent weaknesses of Vietnamese football is the V-League schedule being unreasonably disrupted. Sometimes, a team has to play three matches in eight days — something I've never seen in J-League. The direct consequence: players don't have enough recovery time, and when joining the national team, their fitness is at 70-80% instead of 100%.

People don't remember the scoreline, they remember how a pair of shoes left prints on the grass. But those shoes need to be worn by legs that have been thoroughly prepared.

The unsigned contract already tells a whole life's story.

Two years ago, a young Vietnamese player — I won't name names — received an offer from a J-League 2 club. The financial conditions weren't bad, but what made him hesitate was: would playing in Japan make him better for the national team, or would it just be a step backward in his career?

This question, I believe, is asked by an entire generation of Vietnamese players.

J-League 2, with its dense schedule and higher intensity, could be an ideal environment to build stamina. But it also means players must leave their families, leave the V-League — where they could become stars with much higher salaries.

This is a contradiction I've witnessed in many Southeast Asian football nations: good players stay in V-League for the money, but the lack of competition actually slows their development.

Three seconds in the penalty area, a whole life to explain. But without enough fitness to enter the penalty area in the final minutes, there are no three seconds at all.

Rostov whispers, and I hear an entire World Cup campaign in it.

Returning to the match in 2026 at Rostov-on-Don. Japan NT lost to Belgium 2-3 in one of the most agonizing defeats in World Cup history. But what I remember most isn't Nacer Chadli's goal in the 95th minute — it's the image of Japanese players bowing their heads in the locker room after the match, grown men standing still like ghosts.

The very next day, I read that Japan NT completely changed their fitness training regime. They started applying European-standard fitness training methods, with support from top fitness experts. Result: at the 2026 World Cup, Japan NT shocked the world by defeating Germany and Spain — two former world champions.

What can Vietnam NT learn from that story?

First, it's a change in mindset. Fitness isn't something that can be improved in two weeks before an important match. It needs to be built throughout the entire season, even multiple consecutive seasons.

Second, it's investing in fitness experts. While V-League clubs typically only have a fitness coach, top Asian clubs have specialized teams of three to five people.

Third, and most importantly: changing the V-League schedule to give players better recovery conditions.

In an arena of thousands losing their voices, I hear the clicking of keys like heartbeats.

Every night, when Tokyo falls into silence, I often open my computer and read Vietnamese football news. Transfer news, scandals, new coaches — these account for 80% of the content. But articles about fitness, sports science, training methods? Less than 5%.

This is the blind spot of collective memory.

We forever remember Vietnam NT's 3-1 victory over China in the 2026 World Cup qualifiers, but few ask: how did the players prepare their fitness for that match? Could they maintain intense pressing for the full 90 minutes, or only in the first 60?

This is the question I, someone who has spent my life hunting forgotten moments, desperately want answered.

Fingers are faster than footsteps, and so is fear.

In an era where social media dominates every conversation, fitness becomes the most underrated thing. A beautiful goal can earn a million views, but a sprint in the 85th minute is remembered by no one.

But football isn't just about brilliant moments. Football is also about endurance, about resilience, about legs that never surrender even after 88 minutes have passed.

Vietnam NT under coach Kim Sang-sik needs a fitness revolution. Not the noisy kind on social media, but a quiet revolution in the gym, in the rehabilitation room, in those night training sessions under stadium lights.

They have no audience, but they have each other. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

Empty stadium, full heart.

I've been writing about Vietnamese football for fifteen years. From the victory of U23 Vietnam at Changshu 2026, to the agonizing loss of the senior team to Thailand at AFF Cup 2026, to transfer rumors that never became reality.

I've seen excitement, disappointment, hope and despair. But above all, I've seen a football nation striving to rise day by day.

And I believe that if Vietnam NT can solve the fitness problem — by changing the V-League schedule, investing in fitness experts, and creating conditions for players to compete more in high-competitive environments — then World Cup dreams aren't so far-fetched.

One meter fifty-eight can't reach the crossbar, but it's enough to touch the heart of an entire city. And a team with superior fitness doesn't need shining stars — it only needs 11 people who know how to run until the end.

Rostov taught me that: defeat isn't the end. It's the beginning of a new story. And the next chapter of Vietnamese football, I believe, will be written with legs more resilient than ever.