Thùy Linh: 'Asian Games arena is very harsh, it is not easy to win a medal'

As the first rays of autumn sunlight in Ho Chi Minh City filtered through the glass windows of the training center, Nguyen Thuy Linh was already on the court early in the morning. She is not the first to arrive in the Vietnam national badminton team, but she is the last to leave — a habit that has followed her through three consecutive Asian Games, from Jakarta 2026 to Hangzhou 2026, and now, heading toward the 20th Asian Games in Nagoya, Japan. "The Asian Games arena is very harsh," Thuy Linh said in a recent interview with Dan tri reporters. Her voice was calm, not the kind of false modesty often seen in Vietnamese athletes facing the media. "It is not easy to win a medal. I don't want to say overly optimistic things when I haven't proven anything at that arena yet." That statement is not mere humility. It is the confession of someone who has experienced two Olympic Games — Rio 2026 and Paris 2026 — and understands the gap between personal ambition and the system's true capabilities. On the BWF world rankings, Thuy Linh currently maintains a position in the top 20 women's singles. That achievement, compared to Vietnam's badminton history, is remarkable. But compared to the opponents she will face at the Asian Games — An Se-young of South Korea, Akane Yamaguchi of Japan, the world number one, or even Southeast Asian teammates like Ratchanok Intanon of Thailand — the gap is not just a few ranking spots. "I train at a higher intensity every day," Thuy Linh shared. "But the reality is that to compete at that level, you need a system, highly specialized coaches, and high-caliber sparring partners. That is what we are lacking." What Thuy Linh said is not new. Domestic experts have been saying this for many years: Vietnamese badminton is developing under a "lone tree" model — a few outstanding individuals rising through talent and determination, but lacking a systemic foundation for sustainability. Over 26 years of following badminton competitions, I have witnessed similar stories in many other sports. Their common thread? When an athlete must carry an entire system on their shoulders, psychological pressure multiplies exponentially. Thuy Linh, at 27, is at her physical peak — but simultaneously at her most vulnerable stage if lacking proper support. One notable detail from the interview: the Vietnam national badminton team currently has no foreign coaches on the official coaching staff. This is a key detail that many previous articles overlooked. While other Southeast Asian countries like Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand all have foreign coaches — often former world champions or elite fitness specialists from top training centers — Vietnam relies entirely on domestic coaching staff. Not for lack of will. According to sources from the Vietnam Badminton Federation, inviting foreign experts requires substantial budget — top-tier coaching costs range from 8,000 to 15,000 USD per month, plus accommodation, travel, and interpretation expenses. For a federation operating between two models — national sports and private investment — this is not an easy equation. But this is also where I want to present a counter-intuitive angle. Many believe the lack of foreign coaches is the main reason Vietnamese badminton cannot break through. I don't fully agree. Looking back at history, legends like Le Quang Liem (chess) or Nguyen Tien Minh (badminton) all reached their peaks without a perfect system. What they had — and what Thuy Linh also has — is the ability to self-learn, self-adjust, and unbreakable will. The real issue is not whether to have foreign coaches or not. The real issue is whether the system creates conditions for individual talent to maximize its potential. Thuy Linh can train diligently, maintain consistent fitness, but if she lacks high-caliber sparring partners — people who can simulate Asian-level opponents' playing styles — then each training session is merely reinforcement, not progress. This is the paradox I call the "isolation loop": good athletes have no strong enough opponents to develop against, so no matter how good they are, they cannot get better. Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia do not face this problem because they have dense club systems where young talents are continuously trained and challenge each other. Returning to Thuy Linh. She is the only Vietnamese women's singles player to ever reach the Olympic round of 32 and the Asian Games round of 16. That achievement, in the context of a 100-million population and limited sports budget, did not come easily. It came from thousands of training hours, from overseas competitions where sometimes the entire team consisted of only three people — her, a coach, and an assistant. "I know what I'm doing and why I'm doing it," Thuy Linh said. "Nobody needs to convince me this path is difficult. I'm walking it every day." That answer reveals something important: Thuy Linh doesn't need consolation. She needs proper systemic support — not to change her, but to not hold her back. What will be the next step for Vietnamese badminton? Will there be any policy changes between Asian Games cycles? Or will the system continue waiting for the "Thuy Linh effect" to spread, only to return to the same old story? I leave that question for those in authority to answer. As for Thuy Linh, she will continue arriving at the training court early and leaving late. As she has done in three previous Asian Games. As she will do in the fourth. Because sometimes, in sports, the only thing within an athlete's control is not victory — it is commitment.