Bare Feet on Concrete Courts: The Journey to Find a Pulse for Vietnamese Basketball

This afternoon, on an outdoor basketball court in District 7, Ho Chi Minh City, I came across an image that made me stop. A boy of about 12, barefoot, was alone, repeating a crossover dribble between his legs. No coach, no audience, no applause. Only the sound of the ball bouncing steadily on the hot concrete, mixed with the distant noise of motorbikes. In that moment, I remembered a phrase from Coach Cherchesov about Golovin years ago: "He works in the dark." And I realized that Vietnamese basketball has many such children working in the dark. Vietnamese basketball is at a historic crossroads. After the initial successes of the national team at regional tournaments like the SEA Games, and the strong development of the professional VBA league system, fans are beginning to ask: Can we go further? Can those barefoot children on concrete courts become their own Golovins? The answer lies not in momentary victories, but in how we build the foundation for sustainable development. Looking at the current situation, I see a picture full of contradictions. On one hand, we have positive signals: the VBA league is becoming more professional, attracting the attention of young people; basketball academies are springing up like mushrooms in major cities; many young talents are being given opportunities to study and play in the United States. On the other hand, the gap between the number of players and the quality of training remains very large. I have witnessed not a few training centers that only focus on "producing" players with good physical attributes, while neglecting the development of tactical thinking and fundamental skills. They chase immediate results, instead of building a methodical, long-term training system. What troubles me most is the lack of a unified training philosophy. In developed basketball nations, all players from youth levels are taught the same tactical system, the same basketball language. When they reach the first team, they don't need to relearn from scratch. In Vietnam, each training center teaches a different style, each coach has a different philosophy. As a result, when they reach the national team, players have to spend a lot of time finding a common voice. I once witnessed a match of the Vietnamese youth team where players continuously made positional errors because they didn't understand each other, didn't understand the system the coach was trying to build. That's not their fault, but the fault of an entire training system lacking cohesion. I remember the story of Roberto Mancini and his quiet revolution in Italy. When he took charge of the Italian national team in 2026, Mancini didn't start with complex tactics. He started by rebuilding trust, creating an environment where every player understood their role, trusted their teammates. "We don't run more, we run smarter," his assistant once told me. That's exactly what Vietnamese basketball is missing: collective intelligence, a shared belief in the system. The development of Vietnamese basketball cannot rely solely on a few outstanding individuals. It needs a complete ecosystem, from coach education, building standard curricula, to creating a truly competitive youth league. I have seen successful models in China, where they invested heavily in youth development systems since the 1990s, and now they are reaping the rewards. Vietnam can learn from that, but should not copy mechanically. Each country has its own characteristics, its own sports culture. The story of the barefoot boy on the concrete court still haunts me. Will that boy be discovered, trained properly, or will he forever remain a child playing alone? I don't have the answer. But I believe that if we build the right system, children like him will have the opportunity to shine. And when that happens, Vietnamese basketball will not just stop at competing regionally, but can reach continental heights. An empty stadium, I once wrote, reveals its skeleton: the seats, the pitch lines, and the memories. For Vietnamese basketball, that skeleton is the outdoor concrete courts, the children practicing alone, the coaches searching day and night for new methods. They are the foundation, the future. And I believe that if we know how to cherish and invest properly, those first bricks will create a great structure. The pitch is never straight; it curves with the patience of those who stay. Vietnamese basketball is taking its first steps on the long road ahead. There will be stumbles, failures, but also moments of glory. What matters is that we must be patient, build from the roots, and trust the process. Because, as I have learned after 36 years of observation, no success comes without months and years of working in the dark.