Without Xuan Son, Vietnam's Attack Exposes a Bigger Hole Than Missing Goals

In Vietnam's last three matches, the number of shots from outside the box rose from an average of 4.1 to 8.3 per game. That is the signal I traced through the match footage while sitting down to break down the 0-2 defeat to Thailand. Tai Loc's goal was disallowed by VAR for offside. Kim Sang Sik's seat grew hotter after his team lost the race to win Group B. And expert Doan Minh Xuong, in an interview with Tuoi Tre, said plainly what many had been thinking: Vietnam's attack is clearly weaker without Xuan Son. But when the data sits beside the quote, I see the problem is not the absence of a striker.

The context of the match deserves a closer look. Vietnam entered the group stage as one of the two leading title candidates in the region, alongside Thailand. As expert Doan Minh Xuong framed it, any Vietnam-Thailand meeting is treated as a 50-50 affair, decided by the moment chances are taken. But this match did not play out as a balanced contest. Sarach Yooyen opened the scoring with a long-range strike early on. After conceding, Thailand deliberately dropped deep, built a low block, and gave Vietnam the ball. That was a well-calculated script, not the luck of a single moment. Vietnam held more possession, but chances were confined to shots from outside the box. In terms of squad structure, Vietnam did not arrive with a full set of personnel. The expert himself said the team had too many problems, no full squad, and that most players were not in good physical condition. Hoang Duc had just returned from injury. Xuan Son went down injured from the first match.

The core lies here. Without Xuan Son, Vietnam lost a function within the attacking system, not merely a goalscorer. Xuan Son does what few Vietnamese forwards can: shield the ball with his frame, operate independently inside the box, and, most importantly, occupy physical space to stretch or pin Thailand's centre-backs. When that function disappears, the whole attacking chain weakens rather than just the finishing. Balls played into the central zone no longer have a focal point. Passing options into the box are read ahead by Thailand. Thailand's low block is clear-headed enough to accept Vietnam shooting from distance, because the conversion probability of those balls is far lower. The result is a high-possession but chance-poor performance. Watching with the naked eye, I counted no more than three situations in the second half where Vietnam managed to deliver the ball into dangerous areas inside the box.

The more telling point lies in the in-game response. Vietnam shifted from a 3-4-3 to a 3-5-2, pushing Cao Quang Vinh, a full-back, into central midfield. This is a detail many skim past, but to me it says a great deal. A full-back playing in central midfield is not a designed option, it is a patch job. It reflects that Vietnam's central midfield was thin to the point of having no proper replacement. Expert Doan Minh Xuong acknowledged Vietnam is strongest when playing defensive counter-attack. In this match, the team was forced to push forward chasing an equaliser. In other words, the game state stripped Vietnam of its strongest weapon before Thailand delivered the decisive blow. By mid-second half, bringing on Hai Long and Hoang Duc helped the team cohere better, but could not restore the capacity for a moment of incision. Hoang Duc entered with fitness not yet at peak, though the expert himself noted he fought hard. The effort was indeed there, but effort does not replace structure.

The list of problems runs longer than one injured striker. Vietnam's national team entered a regional tournament with an incomplete squad and a broadly sub-par fitness base, turning the loss of one pillar into a chain collapse of the entire attacking system. Had the team possessed midfield depth, pushing a full-back into central midfield would not have been necessary. Had fitness been even, the team would not have faced the sight of chasing the ball while running out of breath in the final 30 minutes. And had there been a Plan B for the centre-forward position, Dinh Bac would not have been pushed into a role that does not match his qualities. Expert Doan Minh Xuong observed that Dinh Bac could hardly do anything. But I read that detail differently: a young forward forced to play as a target man, when his strengths are not holding up play and shielding the ball, then falling silent in the match is the fault of the person assigning the role, not the player. He did not create the gap; he was simply placed into it.

The most comfortable way to tell the story right now is to blame it all on Xuan Son's absence, so the narrative closes neatly and no one bears responsibility for the other parts of the defeat. But I have written too many pieces about the dressing room to believe in conclusions that neat. If Thailand were missing Chanathip, they would have someone else to fill in, because their midfield is deep enough to rotate without losing quality. Expert Doan Minh Xuong also confirmed Thailand have midfield depth that allows them to substitute freely. That is the systemic difference between the two teams, not a long-range strike that goes in during the opening minutes. The gap lies in Plan B, in positional cover, in the ability to maintain quality when a pillar is absent. And a team that wants to lead the region must have that ability, not just in one match.

On the night of the 0-5 loss to Jeonbuk in 2026, Park Yong-woo's mother called me, and what concerned her was not the goals conceded. She asked whether her son was being cursed at too much. I retell that story not to compare it to Dinh Bac, but to remind myself that behind every name dissected is a person trying. Dinh Bac deserves to be judged by his own role, not by Xuan Son's.

My name was called wrong over the training-ground loudspeaker years ago, and perhaps because of that I always write each person's name correctly. I also write each person's position correctly. Dinh Bac is not a target man. Cao Quang Vinh is not a central midfielder. When we assign them the wrong positions and then blame them for failing to shine, we are calling their names wrong in a subtler way.

At 42, I am old enough to know one match does not define an entire footballing nation. But I am also young enough to believe that problems recurring across many matches are real, not mere misfortune. The question I leave for the coaching staff is not when Xuan Son returns, but when Vietnam will have a backup centre-forward playing the right role, a midfield deep enough that a full-back need not be dragged inside, and a fitness base healthy enough not to lose in the final 30 minutes. That is the standard of a team leading the region, something an early long-range strike cannot take away, but cannot grant either.