U20 Vietnam on the Brink of Relegation: Lessons from Singapore and Myanmar

The dawn of Ulsan never lies. This morning, as the first light touched the sea of Gijang, I received a phone call at 4:07 AM from a veteran colleague closely following the Vietnamese youth team in Hanoi. His voice was hoarse, not because he stayed up watching football, but because of the indescribable feeling of having to deliver news that none of us ever imagined: U20 Vietnam, after two consecutive losses and zero points, is facing the real danger of being relegated to the "developing" group of the AFC U20 qualifiers – a shock for a youth football nation once considered the locomotive of Southeast Asia. I sat quietly in my small room in Busan, looking out at Gijang port, where I have followed hundreds of Ulsan Hyundai matches over decades. My first feeling was not anger or disappointment, but a quiet sadness – the kind of sadness you only have when you have been through too many football seasons to understand that nothing lasts forever. In 2026, I watched Son Heung-min being harshly attacked on Korean social media after performances deemed subpar. I learned to see people beyond the noise of public opinion, and today, I need to apply the same lesson to the youth team of my own homeland. Let us put everything into context. The AFC U20 Asian Cup qualifiers are no longer a simple single-tier competition. In recent cycles, the AFC redesigned the system into two distinct groups: the "qualifying" group, home to Asia's strongest youth football nations such as Japan, South Korea, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Australia, and the "developing" group, for football nations still building their foundations. The promotion and relegation mechanism between these two groups operates like an elevator: the top two teams of each group in the "developing" tier are promoted to the "qualifying" group in the next qualifying cycle, while the bottom teams of the "qualifying" group must give way. U20 Singapore and U20 Myanmar have just completed their convincing promotion campaigns from the "developing" group. That is a clear signal of the rise of Southeast Asian youth football. Meanwhile, U20 Vietnam – a team once regarded as the symbol of Southeast Asian youth football development – is now on the brink of dropping back to the very group that Singapore and Myanmar just escaped. U20 Laos faces a similar fate, bottom of Group H without a single point after two rounds. This situation raises a major question: are we witnessing a power shift in regional youth football, or merely an accident of a single generation? After two matches, U20 Vietnam has 0 points and sits at the bottom of Group C in the "qualifying" group. The final match will take place on the evening of September 6, where they must face U20 Iran – a traditional powerhouse of Asian youth football. Their chances of staying up are extremely slim. But fans see a league table with two painful zeros; I see sleepless nights, quiet training sessions, and tactical decisions made under enormous pressure behind those numbers. What troubles me is not losing to Iran – that can happen to any youth team – but, rather, losing two consecutive opening matches without a single point to hold onto. Based on my decades of experience watching football, the failure of a youth team in a qualifying tournament rarely comes from a single cause. It is the story of an entire system. When Singapore and Myanmar won and earned promotion, they were not merely blessed with one talented generation – they were harvesting the results of systematic investment, well-organized academies, and long-term development plans pursued patiently by their federations. Meanwhile, Vietnamese youth football, traditionally well regarded in the region for its culture and facilities, is now facing hard questions about continuity in coaching philosophy, about retaining the best homegrown talents, and about creating genuinely competitive environments for young players at club level. The AFC's tiered system inadvertently becomes a development trap. Once a team falls to the "developing" group, they will face weaker opponents in subsequent qualifying cycles, meaning their young players will have fewer opportunities to test themselves against Asia's top football nations. This creates a self-reinforcing loop: poor results lead to weaker competition, and weaker competition produces more poor results. It is not a death sentence for Vietnamese youth football, but it will certainly slow the development journey and make it more painful. However, I want to offer a contrarian perspective against the wave of emotion rising. If U20 Vietnam is relegated, it could be a bitter but necessary medicine for an entire system that has gone too long without serious questioning. In recent years, the success of the senior national team has cast a veil over the gaps at the lower levels. We take pride in the golden generation's achievements while neglecting to build depth in the next generation. The rise of Singapore and Myanmar while Vietnam stagnates is an honest reflection of what is happening inside our youth training centers. Modern football runs on money, but the dawn phone call runs on trust. And the trust of an entire youth development system is being weighed. On the evening of September 6, when U20 Vietnam steps onto the pitch against U20 Iran, they will not just be playing for a qualifying lifeline – they will play for the faith of millions of fans waiting for an answer, not another promise. But even if the result goes against expectations, even if relegation becomes reality, I still believe that Vietnamese youth football – with its tradition and player quality – will not stay in the lower group for more than one cycle. The real question is not whether they survive but whether the system's leaders have the courage to look into the mirror and perform a fundamental overhaul of their training philosophy, or whether they will simply look for a head to sever. Kim Min-jae may cancel a contract, but no one can cancel the trust I place in him. At 61, I still answer the phone at 4 AM – because Ulsan does not call to wish me goodnight. And this morning, my homeland called, not by telephone, but with a league table full of blood and tears. The dawn of Ulsan has risen, but the only question I want to pose to those who hold the fate of Vietnamese youth football is this: will you dare to face the truth before it is too late? Because if not, the next dawns of Vietnamese youth football – under the beautiful tropical sun – may be left with only late regrets, while Singapore and Myanmar have already advanced too far for us to look back.