Vietnam U23 Need One Point Against Uzbekistan U23: The Finishing Problem and the Rhythm of Defence

Nguyen Ngoc My stood at the edge of the penalty area, arms hanging loose, eyes fixed on the grass as if counting every blade his studs had torn up. In the 78th minute, Vietnam U23 conceded. Two minutes later, he equalised. I was sitting in the press area at the Nagoya stadium, roughly twenty metres from the touchline — close enough to hear the players breathe, far enough not to hear the coaching staff shouting. What I remember most from that night is not the goal. It is the silence that followed it: players from both sides walking back into position, nobody speaking to anybody, the referee blowing his whistle, and the match continuing as if nothing had happened. A hundred days of empty stadiums taught me to hear the ball breathe. This night in Nagoya was not empty, but there was a different kind of silence — the silence of a team that had just escaped a difficult situation and had not yet allowed itself to believe it. After two matches in Group C, Vietnam U23 have four points: a 1-1 draw with Kuwait U23 and a 2-0 win over the Philippines U23. Progress remains in the hands of coach Dinh Hong Vinh and his players. But the way they arrived at those four points is the real story, because it exposes a problem that will follow them into the knockout rounds unless it is fixed. Uzbekistan U23 completed their objective a match early. Two wins over the Philippines U23 and Kuwait U23 sent the Central Asian side into the quarter-finals before the final group game. For Vietnam U23, the arithmetic is almost brutally simple: a draw guarantees second place and a ticket through. A win means finishing top of the group. A defeat means waiting on the other result — putting their fate in someone else's hands, which no coach wants. That scenario creates a familiar paradox in youth tournaments. The stronger team has nothing left to play for, while the team that needs points must weigh two conflicting instincts: attack for top spot, or sit deep and protect the ticket. Both are defensible. Both can become traps. I watched Vietnam's first two matches from the press tribune, taking notes the way I have for years: not recording scorelines, recording what the eye sees before the ball reaches a player's feet. And what I saw twice was the same story. Against Kuwait, Dinh Hong Vinh's side created plenty. The ball moved out to both flanks, the lines pushed up in rhythm, midfielders received between the penalty area and the centre circle. But the final actions lacked the one thing that is very hard to teach: coldness. Young Vietnamese players shot while still thinking, rather than after having finished thinking. The gap between those two states is a few tenths of a second — and in knockout football, that gap is the difference between going through and going home. In the 78th minute, Vietnam U23 conceded. An inexperienced team collapses in the final ten minutes. Vietnam did not. Two minutes later, Nguyen Ngoc My equalised. It was a point won in a way nobody planned, yet it revealed the true nature of this team: they do not break, but they only seem able to open up when they are backed against the wall. The pattern repeated against the Philippines. A 2-0 win sounds comfortable. The rhythm of the match told a different story: Vietnam still needed the closing minutes to settle it. For a side that controls the ball well and organises its attacks decently, repeatedly pushing the decisive moment into the eighties is a sign about the attack, not about luck. That is the difference between a team with an attacking system and a team with a scoring system. Vietnam U23 have the first. They do not yet have the second. Uzbekistan U23 are exactly the opponent that makes that gap expensive. The Central Asian side are rated highly for their physical base, their duels and the speed at which they move the ball. They do not hold possession to wait; they hold possession to accelerate. Long diagonals to the flanks come before the defensive line can rotate, and the ball frequently arrives in dangerous areas after only two or three touches. That puts the centre of the pitch at the heart of the game — an area where Vietnam U23 have shown composure, but also shown signs of running short of air when pressed continuously. If Uzbekistan are allowed to control midfield freely, Vietnam's centre-backs will repeatedly face three-on-two situations. No defensive pairing at this age level survives that for ninety minutes. One detail I consider more important than the group table: Uzbekistan U23 played with ten men for much of the second half in their win over Kuwait U23. With qualification already secured, the match in Nagoya may well be a moment for them to manage personnel. Some key players are likely to be rested ahead of the knockout stage. That is a significant advantage for Vietnam — but one that must be exploited with the head, not with emotion. And if Uzbekistan rotate, which way will they rotate? A team with no points incentive usually chooses one of two paths. One is to play slowly, keep the ball safe, and accept a flat game. The other is to play open, throw in several young players and let the match become chaotic. For a side built on physicality and transition speed, the second path is the worrying one. In that scenario, Vietnam U23 do not necessarily need to push their line high in search of a win. A cautious approach, keeping the block compact and waiting for counter-attacking chances, suits the objective of taking at least one point. This is not advice to be timid. It is a tactical choice with a rationale: when the opponent does not need a goal, the team that needs a point should only gamble at the right moment. More concretely, I picture Vietnam's defensive block keeping no more than fifteen metres between lines. That distance is enough for the holding midfielders to cover the centre-backs, yet close enough for the three players ahead to receive a pass after a turnover. If the block stretches, the flanks become motorways for Uzbekistan. If the block collapses too tightly, Vietnam close off their own counter-attacking routes. And in those counter-attacks, two names matter: Thanh Nhan and Le Phat. Their speed is the only weapon Vietnam U23 can use to punish a high defensive line. But speed only counts when someone releases the ball at the right moment. In the opening match, the decisive passes tended to arrive one beat later than the runners. It is the smallest detail, and also the most decisive one. Conversely, Vietnam U23 still hold the advantage of the group situation. Uzbekistan have no specific points target left, while Vietnam only need a draw. But that very idea — "we only need a draw" — is the most dangerous thing a young team can carry onto the pitch. I have seen this many times, across many football cultures. When a team walks out intending to preserve something, they usually lose the very thing that keeps them alive: initiative in every duel. Defending is not standing and waiting. Defending is actively choosing where you want the opponent to go. A passive defensive team gets pushed back, concedes fouls, makes small errors inside the box, and eventually concedes a goal in a way nobody can explain afterwards. On that night in Russia I learned to write about pain: not to judge, only to touch. In Sochi, after the penalty shootout, I stayed behind while every other reporter ran off for interviews. I watched the home goalkeeper's fingers claw at the wet grass, and I understood that a team's defeat does not begin in the minute the ball hits the net. It begins much earlier, in the moment the whole team decides how it will play. That is why I believe Vietnam U23 should walk out against Uzbekistan U23 with the mindset of a team that wants to control the rhythm, not of a team counting down the clock. The difference is not in the starting eleven. It is in the way the players look at each other before the ball rolls. Every player is a universe; tactics are only the orbit. Coach Dinh Hong Vinh can draw the most beautiful orbit on the tactics board, but he cannot run the last ten metres for his players. What he can do is prepare them in a mental state stable enough that when the moment arrives, they are not thinking about the consequences of missing. And this is where I want to say something plainly that is rarely said in pre-match analysis. Vietnam U23's biggest problem at this tournament is not the defence. The defence has done enough to keep the team in games across two rounds. Nor is it ball possession — the team keeps the ball reasonably well and organises attacks reasonably well. The problem lies in something easily overlooked because it does not show up in stat sheets: the quality of the final decision. A team that creates ten chances and scores one goal is not an unlucky team. It is a team that has not answered the most basic question in attacking football: who is responsible for finishing this move, and when did he start preparing for it? If the answer is "whoever has the ball shoots", that team will always end matches with a feeling of regret. The Uzbekistan match will test that ruthlessly, because this opponent does not concede many chances. If Vietnam U23 get three clear openings and waste all three, the game will drift towards the team that knows how to convert. Football at this age level does not forgive waste. I once sat in Kashima on a summer night in 2026, thirty years old, commentating a J.League match live for the first time and screaming myself hoarse after the opening goal in the 23rd minute. Afterwards I realised I had not mentioned a single statistic, only the look in the scorer's eyes as he celebrated. A colleague said I lacked professionalism. A veteran editor sat down with me and said I was telling the pain and the hunger of the players — something numbers never touch. A hoarse voice in Kashima — the first time my heart told the truth. I bring it up here because I believe Vietnam U23 are standing on exactly that line. They have proved they have heart: equalising after conceding in the 78th minute, winning 2-0 despite needing until the closing stages. What is missing is the brain that steers that heart at the right moment. So what is the most sensible plan against Uzbekistan U23? First, maintain a clear two-tier defensive structure, with two holding midfielders always positioned in front of the centre-backs. That limits Uzbekistan's ability to exploit the zone in front of the box, where they are strong at picking up second balls. Second, accept surrendering possession in certain phases, without surrendering the space behind the defensive line. This is the difference between organised defending and collapsing. A collapsing team exposes the space behind. An organised team protects that space by holding its line. Third, maximise set pieces. Against a physically strong opponent, dead-ball situations are the way to level the physical gap. Corners and mid-range free kicks may be Vietnam U23's most realistic route to a goal. Fourth, prepare psychologically for the worst case. If Uzbekistan score first, Vietnam must have a rehearsed Plan B, not a Plan B invented in three minutes. Young teams often collapse at exactly that moment, when Plan A has just broken and the fallback has not yet formed. But if they keep their defensive concentration and improve their finishing, Dinh Hong Vinh's players have enough grounds to aim for a favourable result. A draw would not only see Vietnam U23 through the group. It could also build the kind of psychological momentum before the knockout rounds that no training session can produce. I remember the series I wrote during the period when stadiums were closed. With no crowd to generate atmosphere, I was forced to listen to the smallest things: studs on grass, a coach shouting, the ball striking the surface like a note plucked in an empty room. I learned that when everything outside goes quiet, the true quality of a team is revealed very quickly. No crowd to shelter behind, no atmosphere to paper over cracks. Only structure and decisions. The Uzbekistan match will be like that in one respect. The Nagoya stands will have people in them, but the pressure will be inside the players' heads. No cheer makes a finish more accurate. No spectator holds a defensive position for them. A match only ends when people stop remembering it. For Vietnam U23, the memory of this group stage will depend on who they decide to be across ninety minutes in Nagoya: a team that came to keep what it has, or a team that came to take what it lacks. From the outside those two choices look similar. But players always know which one they are in. And the crowd knows too — just about thirty minutes later than the people on the pitch. What Vietnam U23 need most right now is not a promise of victory. They need a way of playing such that when the final whistle goes, whatever the result, nobody has to ask why they played that way. With four points in hand and one more point enough, Dinh Hong Vinh's side control their own fate. That is the best position a young team can be in on the final matchday of a group stage. The only remaining question is whether they will use that position to defend a ticket, or to build a belief that travels beyond the group stage.