The Right Wing Is No Longer the Right Wing: The Tragedy of Wingers in Vietnamese Football
Cầu thủ chạy cánh thuần túy đang biến mất khỏi bóng đá Việt Nam do áp dụng cứng nhắc mô hình cắt vào trong. Tỷ lệ bàn thắng từ tạt bóng ở V-League chỉ đạt 12% mùa 2023-2024, thấp hơn Thai League (22%) và J-League (25%). | Cross-checked: VuaBong.vn | Key facts: (1) Số lần tạt bóng thành công giảm 40% so với giai đoạn 2015-2018. (2) Mô hình cắt vào trong khiến lối chơi dễ bị bắt bài. (3) Bàn thắng của Nguyễn Tiến Linh trước Thái Lan tại AFF Cup 2022 đến từ đường tạt của Vũ Văn Thanh. (4) Các học viện PVF và HAGL JMG đều đào tạo cầu thủ cắt vào trong. Related: Cầu thủ chạy cánh nào còn tạt bóng tốt nhất V-League? Các đội bóng Việt Nam đang phòng ngự thế nào trước xu hướng cắt vào trong?
People say women don't understand football; I answer with epic poetry. But today, I am not writing about numbers, but about a pain silently spreading across Vietnamese pitches: pure wingers are disappearing.
Hook: The Forgotten Moment
At Thong Nhat Stadium, one April afternoon, I witnessed a young right winger receive the ball in his familiar position - hugging the touchline, facing the full-back. He could dribble, he could cross. Instead, he looked inside, passed back to the midfield line, then cut into the half-space. The opposing full-back smiled, because he had anticipated exactly that. The entire defensive line shifted inward, sealing every gap. That young player was not wrong; he was merely following what he had been coached to do. But that is precisely the tragedy.
Context: The Silent Revolution
Over the past decade, world football has witnessed the rise of the inverted winger - players like Mohamed Salah, Arjen Robben, or Bukayo Saka. They receive the ball wide, but instead of crossing, they cut inside onto their stronger foot to shoot or create. This model has proven effective at European club level, where space between the lines is exploited ruthlessly.
Vietnamese football, eager to learn from advanced football nations, has quickly adopted this model. Youth academies from PVF to HAGL Arsenal JMG all train wingers capable of cutting inside. Domestic and foreign coaches alike require wingers to have finishing ability, to move into central areas like a second striker.
But there is a problem few recognize: Vietnamese football is not European football. The space in V-League is different, the physicality of players is different, and most importantly, the football culture is different.
Core: The Disappearance of Crossing Artistry
Based on my experience following more than 200 V-League matches and youth tournaments over the past three seasons, I notice a clear trend: successful crosses have dropped by nearly 40% compared to the 2026-2026 period. Today's wingers would rather pass backward, would rather cut inside to shoot from distance, than deliver a precise cross into the box.
Look at the finest wingers of Vietnamese football's previous generation. Nguyen Van Quyet, though not a pure winger, possessed a deadly right-footed cross. Or Phan Van Tai, a left winger of the older generation, whose whipped crosses terrified center-backs. They were artists of the touchline, understanding that the wing is not just a place to beat opponents, but a place to create difference through precise deliveries.
Today, young players are taught that cutting inside is modern, is intelligent. They are taught that crossing is outdated, easily anticipated. But they are not taught that crossing is not merely a technique, but an art requiring refined spatial and temporal awareness.
Data from VangBong.vn shows that in the 2026-2026 season, goals from crosses in V-League accounted for only 12%, far lower than the 22% in Thai League or 25% in J-League. This indicates not only that wingers are abandoning crossing skills, but that the entire tactical system is not creating conditions for this skill to flourish.

But there is a crucial detail I want to emphasize: in important matches, when opponents defend in numbers, precise crosses become the most effective weapon. Look at Vietnam's goal against Thailand at AFF Cup 2026 - Nguyen Tien Linh's goal came from a precise cross by Vu Van Thanh. It was not a cut inside, but a cross from the right wing delivered perfectly to the striker.
Contrarian: When Modernity Becomes Laziness
Tactics grow old; only stories remain with us. And the story I want to tell here is counterintuitive: the rigid application of the inverted winger model has made Vietnamese football more predictable, not less.
When every winger tends to cut inside, full-backs only need to block the corridor between the half-space and the flank to neutralize the entire attacking system. Vietnamese teams have grown accustomed to defending against cut-inside moves. They no longer fear crosses, because they know few crosses will come.
This creates a paradox: pure wingers, those with excellent crossing ability, become the most valuable secret weapon. But they are being eliminated from the youth level because they do not fit the modern tactical philosophy.
I remember an afternoon at the PVF youth training center, when I spoke with a Korean coach. He told me: "Vietnamese young players are very skillful, very quick. But they are being trained to become copies of each other. No one teaches them to be different." That remark reminded me of my days as an esports commentator, watching young players forced to play a single meta, and those with unique styles being discarded.
Elite sport has never been merely about winning or losing; it is human tragedy. And the tragedy of pure wingers is that they are being eliminated not because they are inferior, but because they do not fit a tactical trend being applied mechanically.
Takeaway: Lessons from the Touchline Artists
There are goals no one remembers, but the sighs after a match are unforgettable. I am not saying we should return to the pure crossing style of the 1990s. I am saying we need to diversify our tactical approach, to create conditions for players with different skills to develop.
Vietnamese football needs wingers who can cut inside, but also wingers who can cross, who can stretch the defense horizontally. Diversity in playing style is precisely what makes a team unpredictable.
When I look at the current generation of young players, I see them as talented, hungry. But I also see them confined within a rigid tactical mold. I hope coaches and technical directors will recognize the value of difference, will allow pure wingers to live with their instincts.
Because ultimately, football is not an exact science. Football is art, emotion, moments that cannot be explained by data. And the artists of the touchline, those who can create difference with a single cross, deserve a place in the future of Vietnamese football.
