Suzhou, Light Rain and an Early Knock-out: Vietnam Women Face Taiwan (China) at ASIAD

Suzhou, Light Rain and an Early Knock-out: Vietnam Women Face Taiwan (China) at ASIAD

I still remember the tight grip of Coach Hoang Van Phuc's hand as he emerged from the tunnel of the Suzhou training ground in mid-September, just before the team departed for the ASIAD. The rain was light, the pitch glistened, and as the whistle marking the final session sounded, he stood motionless for a long time beside the ice cooler, his eyes fixed on two defenders practising free kicks in the far corner. That was no coincidence. Three years earlier, on an afternoon with a similar atmosphere at the 2026 ASIAD, the Vietnam women's team walked onto the pitch against Taiwan (China) as favourites — and left it after losing a penalty shootout 3-4 following a 0-0 draw. The silence in the technical area that day is something I still have written verbatim in my notebook. I sat less than twenty metres from the bench, notebook full of scribbles, hands shaking. That was the first lesson women's football taught me: some matches are not decided by goals, but by the mind.

Group A of this ASIAD has a fairly clear outline: Japan. The women's side from the land of mist is so nearly assured of topping the group that regional media are only debating how many matches and how many goals they will rack up. That pushes the rest — Thailand, Taiwan (China) and Vietnam — into a life-or-death battle for the single remaining quarter-final ticket. In other words, the opening match between Vietnam and Taiwan (China) is not simply a group-stage fixture. It is an early knock-out dressed in the clothing of a round-robin format.

Coach Hoang Van Phuc's side prepared for that clash exactly the way one prepares for a final. A long training camp in China, where they beat Jiangsu Suning 1-0 and lost 0-3 to the China national team. Two contrasting results that complement each other: the win taught the players they can break down an organised defensive block, while the loss taught them that when the opponent is strong enough and fast enough, the distances between the lines will be torn apart after just a few vertical passes. I had a brief chat with a coaching staff member after a session in Suzhou. He smiled and said: 'What matters isn't winning or losing here, but which pitch the real match will be played on, and under what atmosphere.' I understood him. Preparing in China itself — nearly the same time zone, the same weather and pitch conditions as the venue — is a quiet advantage few notice. But I also remember the words of a doctor in the delegation, as he packed up his medical bag: 'An advantage only counts if the players' legs are clear-headed enough to use it.'

What interests me most about this match is not the historical scoreline, but Taiwan (China)'s defensive structure. In the 0-1 defeat in March at the Asian Cup, Vietnam had more possession but were completely stifled by a deep defensive block with fierce man-marking in midfield. That is the most 'annoying' kind of opponent in regional women's football: no need to control the ball, only to break rhythm. In other words, this is a match in which the possession percentage will say nothing. You can hold 65% of the ball with meaningless sideways passes in front of the opponent's box, then concede from a counter-attack in just ten seconds. I have rewatched the March footage many times, pausing on the final-third passing sequences. Vietnam's weak point is not their ability to create chances, but the speed of ball circulation in the final third. When the opponent drops deep enough and numbers up enough, the wide combinations no longer have space for a one-two, and the crosses land on the head of the opponent's tall centre-back — who is ready to head the ball clear to the other side of the pitch.

I recall a small detail from the video-analysis session in Suzhou. When the footage of the March match was played, the whole room fell silent. One player sat in the front row, hands clenched, eyes fixed on the screen. I will not name her here, because that story belongs to the dressing room — and I promised the team I would keep what belongs there. But the way she nodded when the coach pointed to the spot where the midfield lost the ball in the 67th minute said this: this team has come to the ASIAD as people who know exactly what they must fix.

On Taiwan (China)'s side, their generational turnover in recent years has not erased their core style of play. That is a sign of organisation. A team that can change players without changing philosophy is always hard to beat in a short window. The 1-0 win in March was not just three points — it was a psychological shield. Their players will step onto the pitch believing 'we beat them once, so why not twice.' That is a belief you only earn after truly overcoming someone once, and it is more fearsome than any technical metric.

However, there is one detail I consider more important than all of this: shootout experience. The 2026 ASIAD match ended 0-0 and Taiwan (China) won 4-3 on penalties. I believe Coach Hoang Van Phuc's side have prepared thoroughly for this scenario. The evidence is the amount of time they spent on set pieces and free kicks in that final session in Suzhou, stretching until it was fully dark. In reality, direct free kicks and penalties are two situations in which a side considered weaker in controlling the game can still win. I believe this will be a match in which a goal from a set piece, not from open play, decides the fate of the quarter-final ticket. In the last 10 meetings, Vietnam have won 5, drawn 2 and lost 3 — a slightly better overall record, but that gap is narrowing with every tournament cycle, and the most recent narrowings have all belonged to the opponent.

This is where I say what I think many Vietnamese fans are misreading. The media often frame this match as a story of 'revenge' — settling the March debt and the 2026 shootout. I understand that emotion; I myself have been impulsive like that after defeats. But the trap of the 'revenge' mentality is this: it makes a team play rushed, play hot, and prone to exposing the space behind the midfield line when pushing too high for a goal. Meanwhile, Taiwan (China) are not here for revenge. They are here to repeat a formula that has already worked: drop deep, wait, counter. Seen from the touchline, a team playing with a revenge mentality tends to touch the ball more, pass more, yet create fewer clear chances — because they are chasing the memory of an old match, not the match unfolding right in front of them. I have seen this many times, in many teams, at many levels: strong emotion does not mean correct choice.

One more misunderstanding to clear up: many people think Japan are so strong that the Vietnam — Taiwan (China) match is just a 'secondary qualifier.' The opposite is true. Precisely because Japan are nearly assured, this match becomes the most important group-stage game for both teams — it is the only door left to the quarter-finals. And when a match has only one entrance, both teams can play a distorted brand of football: over-cautious, prioritising safety over creativity, willing to drag the game into extra time and penalties. That is not beautiful football. But it is survival football, and in a group containing Japan, survival matters more than beauty.

I do not know how the match will end. No one does, and anyone over-confident about a prediction in a match like this is fooling themselves. But if there is one signal I will watch in the first fifteen minutes, it is this: whether Vietnam's midfield dares to play vertical, penetrating passes into the central area instead of safe sideways circulation, or whether they will fall back into the trap of the March match. How Coach Hoang Van Phuc adjusts at half-time will tell us more than any group-stage scoreline. Because in a group containing Japan, the quarter-final ticket is not for the team that plays beautifully — it is for the team that dares to change at the right moment. And sometimes, that is decided not on the pitch, but on a lightly rainy afternoon in Suzhou, when a coach stands motionless for a long time beside the ice cooler, watching his players take free kicks until it is fully dark.