Hai Yen and her final Asian Games: The quiet moments before the Japan journey

The training ground at Noi Bai was quiet this afternoon. No shouting. I stood at my usual corner, a familiar spot after seven seasons of observation, and saw Pham Hai Yen standing still in the center circle. Not the posture of someone about to enter a major tournament. It was the posture of someone counting the days remaining. People remember the goals. I remember the silences between two touches of the ball. The first training session of the Vietnamese women's national team in China lasted 90 minutes, divided into two parts. Morning was light recovery, afternoon was tactical work. But what caught my attention was not the session plan – it was how the coaching staff arranged the friendly opponents. A club side (Jiangsu, September 5), a top-tier national team (China, September 9), then three matches in Japan against Chinese Taipei, Japan, and Thailand. This is not a random schedule. This is a deliberately calculated difficulty curve. The training ground never lies. It only whispers to those willing to sit and listen. And what it whispered to me today was this: the Vietnamese team is preparing not just for one tournament, but for multiple scenarios. Choosing China and Japan – two of Asia's elite women's football nations – shows ambition to close the gap with the top tier. Choosing Thailand as the final warm-up shows they are keeping their edge sharp for Southeast Asian rivals. Hai Yen, at 32, told the press this could be her final Asian Games. I have witnessed four generations of players. They differ in their feet, but they share the same loneliness. But there is something different about Hai Yen: she does not talk about herself. She talks about the team, about maintaining form, about leadership, about scoring goals. That is the language of a true leader, someone who understands that her final match matters less than how far the team goes. I remember the summer of 2026 in Kazan, when I counted 14 volleyed shots every evening from Benjamin Pavard – three consecutive days – before he scored that goal against Argentina. Nobody saw those training sessions. But the round-of-16 goal was the result of a quiet, repetitive process. I see the same thing here. The 90-minute tactical session focused on perfecting match plans against potential opponents. Not fitness, not basic technique. Specific tactics for specific opponents. That means the foundation was built earlier. This phase is fine-tuning. There is a common misunderstanding from the outside that playing strong opponents in friendlies is risky, that it could damage confidence. But I have seen too many teams fail because they prepared too softly. Losses in pre-tournament friendlies – if analyzed correctly – are more valuable lessons than easy victories. The coaching staff carefully researched and selected suitable opponents. That is a sign of a mature team, not a fearful one. What I find missing in this story is succession. Hai Yen talks about her final Asian Games, but I do not see anyone mentioning the young players who will replace her. This is not criticism – it is a question. One beat does not make a melody. One match does not make a footballing life. If the Vietnamese team wants to maintain its position in Southeast Asia and continue competing in Asia, preparing for the post-Hai Yen era must begin now, not after she retires. Japan will be a real test. Not just because the opponents are strong, but because the conditions – pitches, crowds, pressure – will mirror exactly what the team will face at the Asian Games. Playing in Japan before a tournament also held in Japan is a subtle advantage few recognize. Familiarity with local conditions can make small but significant differences in tight matches. Paris, that season, taught me that Champions League stumbles begin in August. Similarly, the success or failure of an Asian Games campaign is often decided in the early September training sessions, in how the team lives, eats, sleeps, and trains together. Today, I saw a team living in the right rhythm. The silence in this afternoon's session was not the silence of fatigue or anxiety. It was the silence of focus. Keeping the beat, for me, is counting what no one else hears. And what I am counting now is the days Hai Yen has left in the national team shirt. She deserves a beautiful memory. But more importantly, the Vietnamese team deserves a journey longer than one Asian Games. The question is not how many goals Hai Yen will score in this tournament. The question is: after she leaves, who will stand in the center circle, counting the days remaining?