Empty Practice Grounds, Beating Hearts: The Journey of Vietnamese Youth Golf Between Two Cultures

On a Tuesday afternoon, I stood at the edge of the practice ground at the National Golf Academy in Hanoi. Pale yellow sunlight stretched across the grass, and a few 14-year-old boys were repeating their fiftieth swing of the session. There was no cheering, no spectators – only the sound of clubs swinging and balls landing rhythmically. I suddenly remembered what Mr. Park, the 67-year-old fan I interviewed in Busan, once said: "An empty stadium is a body without a heart – it still beats, but no one hears it." But here, in this quiet practice ground, I could hear the heartbeat of an entire generation growing up. My context is not a major tournament, but an ordinary afternoon at a youth golf training center. I have followed Vietnamese golf for 12 years, from the early days when there were only a few courses in the South to the vibrant junior tournament system we see today. But what made me stop here was not achievement, but a small detail: a 15-year-old boy named Minh, after finishing his drill, turned to look at the empty chair where his father usually sat. He said nothing, just pointed at it, then bent down to put away his club. That gesture told me more than any scorecard. Vietnamese youth golf is at a turning point. Over the past three years, the number of junior golfers under 18 has increased by 40%, according to the Vietnam Golf Association (VGA). Tournaments like the Vietnam Junior Open and VGA Junior Tour have become breeding grounds for talents such as Nguyen Anh Minh – who made the top 10 at the Asian Junior Championship in 2026 – and Tran Le Duy Nhat, the 2026 national champion. But behind these numbers lies a less-discussed reality: the imbalance between technique and physicality, between the pressure for results and the joy of playing golf. I recall 2026, when I was a student intern at the World Cup in Russia. I wrote 2,000 words about the "active defense" tactics of the Korean national team. That article was dry and lifeless, until I saw Kim Young-gwon point to the stands for the fans after Germany was eliminated. That moment taught me: data only gives us a place to stand; emotion gives us a reason to stay. The same is happening with Vietnamese youth golf. Coaches, driven by results, often neglect fundamental technique, pushing students into physical training too early. I witnessed a 13-year-old being forced to do heavy squats while his swing still had a shoulder-rotation flaw. This not only risks injury but also destroys the technical foundation – the very thing golf needs more than any other sport. Look at how Korea does it. In Busan, where I live, junior golf academies focus on basic technique for the first three years before allowing students to compete. They have a systematic technical assessment, with metrics like hip rotation angle, knee stability, and swing speed. In contrast, many centers in Vietnam chase results, letting students compete too early, which teaches them to "cheat" on the course instead of building a solid foundation. I once interviewed a young coach in Da Nang who admitted: "If we don't have medals, parents will take their kids elsewhere. We're forced to burn through stages." It's a vicious cycle. But there is a positive signal. At the VGA Junior Tour in March, I noticed a group of young coaches from Ho Chi Minh City applying a new method: they recorded each student's swing and analyzed it with specialized software, instead of just using words. One of them, Coach Hung, 32, shared: "We learned from Japanese and Korean models, but adjusted them to fit Vietnamese physiques. The most important thing is to keep the kids loving golf before thinking about winning." This approach is showing results: the retention rate of students after two years increased from 30% to 55% in Coach Hung's group. However, what I find most counter-intuitive is the silence of the stands. In Vietnam, golf is still seen as a sport for the wealthy, and junior tournaments often take place in a quiet atmosphere, with only parents and a few coaches. But I believe this silence is actually an opportunity. Without the pressure of a crowd, young golfers can focus on their technique and mentality. I remember an afternoon at Long Bien Golf Course, when a 12-year-old girl was making a decisive putt in a junior tournament. No one cheered, but I saw her mother holding her breath, gripping the chair tightly. In that moment, I understood that cheering is never just noise – it is the heartbeat of a city. And here, that heartbeat was beating in the chests of mothers and fathers. Another blind spot I noticed is the lack of connection between golf academies and the general education system. In Korea, young golfers often attend specialized schools where practice schedules are integrated with academic hours. In Vietnam, most kids have to juggle school and golf on their own, leading to dropouts or inconsistent training. I met a young talent named Bao, 16, who won a regional championship but had to quit golf because his family couldn't afford both education and training. This is a huge waste. Without support policies from the state or private organizations, we will continue to lose talents like Bao. Looking ahead, I believe Vietnamese youth golf is facing its biggest opportunity in history. The growth of international tournaments in Southeast Asia, along with Vietnam hosting the 2026 SEA Games, will create a larger stage for these kids. But to seize this opportunity, we need to shift our mindset from "results" to "sustainable development." Coaches need better training, academies need to invest in analysis technology, and most importantly, we need to listen to the voices of the kids themselves – those who swing their clubs day after day on empty practice grounds. I'll end with a story. At the end of that afternoon practice, I saw Minh, the 15-year-old, sitting alone on a bench, looking out at the course sinking into dusk. I approached and asked, "Are you tired?" The boy smiled and replied, "Very tired, but I love the feeling of the ball flying. It's like I'm flying with it." I said nothing, just nodded. Because I knew, in that moment, the boy didn't need a tactical analysis or technical advice. He just needed someone to listen. And that is what golf – and sport in general – always needs: beat keepers, those who know that every match is a drumbeat, and we are just the ones keeping time between two stands. Data from the VGA shows that the number of junior golfers registered to compete in 2026 has increased 25% from the previous year, but this number is still very small compared to the potential. If we know how to nurture a love for golf from the roots, if we know how to listen to small gestures like Minh's pointing finger, then I believe that within 10 years, Vietnam will have golfers capable of competing at the Asian level. But that requires patience – something modern society is lacking. And perhaps, the very silence of the practice ground will teach us that.