U23 Vietnam receive the order to 'tear the net' of Philippines: the real puzzle is finishing efficiency and patience

On the afternoon of September 16 in Nagoya, the rain refused to stop falling on the grass of Nagoya City Minato Stadium. The shots in Vietnam U23's training session bounced off the wet surface with a crisp crack, like snapping branches. At the edge of the box, the coaching staff scribbled notes on every finish, every shot over the bar, every clean save by the goalkeeper. One order hung in every glance of head coach Dinh Hong Vinh, though nobody said it aloud: against Philippines U23 on September 18, this team must tear the opponent's net apart. Standing under the shelter of an empty stand, listening to rain blend with boots striking grass, I suddenly understood: when the pitch falls silent, you begin to hear football's own sigh. It is the sigh of a young side that did everything right against Kuwait U23 — except put the ball in the net more than once.

Group C of the 2026 Asian Games has a clear order after the opening round. Uzbekistan U23 crushed Philippines U23 5-1 and lead with a plus-four goal difference. Vietnam U23 and Kuwait U23 shared a point after a chance-filled 1-1 draw. Philippines U23 left with nothing and a minus-four difference.

The Kuwait match left behind a paradox that anyone who watched all 90 minutes could feel: Vietnam U23 played well, created plenty of dangerous situations, but made the net shake only once. After the game, the coaching staff reviewed every phase of play and, according to the team, pointed at the sorest spot: chance conversion and finishing efficiency. That is why the rain-soaked session on September 16 revolved around drills ending in shots inside the box, not harmless possession circles.

The fixture list sets a merciless equation. Beat Philippines in the second round, and Vietnam U23 all but open the door to the next stage and enter the final group match against Uzbekistan with breathing room. Any other result turns that Central Asian fixture into a do-or-die battle before a ball is even kicked. On September 18 in Nagoya, three points are the prerequisite; the number of goals is the buffer for the goal-difference calculation in the final round.

Based on my years of watching youth tournaments across Asia, there is a distinction fans often blur: creating chances and scoring goals are two different skills, belonging to two different muscle systems of a football team. Chance creation comes from organization, transitions, and the eye to read space. Finishing efficiency comes from coldness, the quality of the final touch, the psychology inside the sixteen-and-a-half-meter radius. Vietnam U23 are strong in the former and weak in the latter — and coach Dinh Hong Vinh's drills in the rain aimed straight at that weakness.

One thing must be said plainly: we do not yet have xG data from the Kuwait match, so nobody can claim Vietnam U23's chances were genuinely high quality rather than merely numerous. But my own eyes saw openings appear on both flanks, through-balls slicing into the box that lacked only one clean final touch. The diagnosis, therefore, is named efficiency, not ability.

The crux of the Philippines match is this: they will not play like the team that lost 1-5 in fans' imaginations. After the defeat to Uzbekistan, they will most likely drop into a low block, surrender the ball, pack two defensive lines, and wait for a counterattack or a set piece. That means Vietnam U23 face a completely different exam from the Kuwait game: not attacking into space, but breaking down a sealed block. The problem demands quick ball movement from flank to flank, stretching the block, well-timed through balls — not rushed shots from tight angles before the block has cracked a single seam.

And then there is the rain. The wet surface in Nagoya reduces the reliability of short combinations, makes the ball skid longer, and lets the final pass slip out of control. By the logic of the surface, the value of long balls, early crosses from the byline, set pieces, and second-ball duels all rise. I still believe that against a low block, the early cross from the flank — the traditional winger hugging the touchline before delivering — is worth far more than an inverted winger cutting inside and shooting through a forest of legs. Modern football is homogenizing wide roles toward inverted wingers, but against a parked bus, it is the wide flanks and early crosses that hold the key.

There is another calculation few mention: goal difference. Uzbekistan are plus four; Vietnam are level. If a team finishes level on points with us, the digits after that dash decide the ranking. The order to tear the net therefore carries two meanings: three points to advance, and every extra goal is another brick in a road that may need goal difference. Add one quiet scenario: if Uzbekistan win early in the final round and seal qualification before facing us, they could well rotate their squad. Group-stage shocks, in the end, have never been miracles; they are the inevitable consequence of strong teams underestimating opponents and weak teams daring to press high. Group C is running that script by the hour.

But I want to write against the 'must tear the net' wave spreading across the social stands. Eight World Cups in my reporting career taught me one thing: a scoring order placed on U23 shoulders can become a noose. If the first 30 minutes pass without a goal, anxiety spreads from the stands to the pitch, and it is impatience — not skill — that strangles finishes. Philippines U23, after the 1-5 shock, carry a motivation no table can measure: pride. A team that has just been humiliated is rarely beaten a second time the same way.

Here lies the blind spot of our collective memory. After the Kuwait match, everyone remembers the misses and forgets how the chances were created. The controversy of the summer of 2026 taught me this lesson, when many fans could not recall the score of Vietnam U23's win over South Korea U23 but remembered exactly the moment Cong Phuong drew circles around the ball. Football must not be read through scorelines, but through the heartbeat of the stands. If we measure a young team only by goals per match, we cut away the very part of them that is improving fastest: their attacking organization.

Writing about football means sitting with people, listening to them tell the story of the match in which they once were themselves. This Wednesday afternoon in Nagoya, those young men will walk onto the pitch carrying their coach's order to tear the net and the expectations of a nation used to sleepless football nights. I only hope they hear something deeper than the roar: stay calm enough to make that final touch with the coldness of someone who has practiced a thousand times. The Uzbekistan match still waits ahead, and the lesson of that rainy session is the starting point: let the heart beat slowly enough for the feet to finish fast enough.