Why Doan Van Hau should not go to Indonesia: The cold calculation of coach Kim Sang-sik

One late March evening in Jakarta, I was scrolling through social media in my hotel room. The Vietnam national team call-up list for the 2026 ASEAN Cup group-stage match against Indonesia was announced. I looked for Doan Van Hau's name. It was not there. My Indonesian friend next to me nudged me: 'What, you guys didn't dare to bring him here?' I did not answer right away, because I was thinking of a press conference years ago, when the whole room fell silent after my question. When the entire press room goes quiet, I know I have touched a nerve. This time, the pain is not about tactics. It is about how we look at an old hero. To understand why this decision caused controversy, we need to look back. In 2026, at the 30th SEA Games, Vietnam U22 and Indonesia U22 produced one of the most tense matches in Southeast Asian football. Doan Van Hau, then 20, was the best left-back of his generation, playing unforgiving football. He threw himself into challenges like a warrior, making Indonesian players lose their composure several times. Since then, Van Hau's name became a thorny symbol in the minds of Indonesian supporters. They remembered him, hated him, and feared him. When Vietnam football entered its golden era under Park Hang-seo, Van Hau was one of the most important pieces, both defensively and offensively on the left flank. But 2026 marked a turning point. A persistent injury kept Van Hau out of action for a long period. When he returned, he could no longer maintain his old physical condition and touch. Those who followed the V.League could see a slower, more cautious Van Hau, sometimes out of rhythm in aerial duels. Worse, in a club match, he committed a foul on Doan Ngoc Tan and received an internal disciplinary punishment. There was no official information about the severity, but a senior player being disciplined right before a national-team camp is a worrying signal. Coach Kim Sang-sik may have seen this as part of a bigger picture: a player not ready physically, not stable mentally, and carrying a fiery past on his shoulders. From a tactical angle, there is an interesting paradox. On away trips to Indonesia, a tough defender like Van Hau is usually the ideal weapon against hostile crowds. But that same aggression becomes a risk when referees are susceptible to home pressure. A tackle half a second late, a flailing arm accidentally hitting an opponent's face, can instantly turn into a red card. Kim Sang-sik, coming from a football culture that values absolute tactical discipline, surely asked: can a player returning from injury and carrying a suspension control his emotions for 90 minutes in such a demanding arena? His answer was no, at least for now. This shows a notable shift in Vietnam's football thinking. In the past, the team depended heavily on a group of inspirational players. When one of them got injured, the whole team worried. Now, the team can leave a cornerstone like Van Hau at home and still trust replacements. That is the sign of a squad with depth. In recent tournaments, Vietnam's defense has produced new names, and the left-back position is no longer a difficult puzzle. If a young player is given a chance in Jakarta and performs well, the debate over Van Hau will quickly fade. Football always worships those who seize their opportunity. Speaking of fading stars, I cannot ignore Evan Dimas. In 2026, he was one of Southeast Asia's best central midfielders, expected to lead Indonesia to new heights. But after that SEA Games, his career gradually declined. Many blamed the loss to Vietnam, the weight of expectation, or injuries. Where the truth lies does not matter much. What matters is the lesson every player must face: a moment of glory cannot last forever. Van Hau should not be compared to Evan Dimas, because his foundation is different, but the law of top-level football remains the same: you must prove your value in the present, not in the past. Indonesian media, of course, did not ignore the story. Several sports outlets published lists of notable absentees, and Doan Van Hau was among them. But the way they framed it has changed. They no longer see him as the biggest threat in the Vietnam squad, but rather as a sign of transition. For Indonesians, a team that no longer depends on one individual is scarier. When you cannot target a hot spot, you have to face a well-organized collective, and that is the real challenge. Now it is time to challenge myself. Am I being too lenient toward Kim's decision? I have seen many coaches drop a star for reasons not entirely football-related, then pay the price. Perhaps Van Hau, even at 90% fitness, is still a better option than an inexperienced youngster. In tense matches, game management cannot be bought with technique. If Vietnam concedes from a set-piece that Van Hau might have cleared, people will not spare Kim. Football has no safe feeling. Every decision is a gamble. But I think about what I have been through. I have interviewed countless coaches, from famous ones to those who were just shadows in press conferences. Men can look down on me, but they cannot look down on my questions. I often ask them one thing: what makes you decide? The answer is always data, observation, training sessions. Kim Sang-sik is not new to Asian football. He certainly has full information about Van Hau. If he decided to leave him out of the squad, I believe he weighed things carefully. We, who watch football through screens, cannot see the whole picture. In the dressing room, the absence of a veteran always leaves a certain void. Van Hau is more than a left-back; he is a firelighter, a bridge between generations. When he is not there, who will speak up in a tense match? Who will calm the young players when the Indonesian crowd shakes the stadium? This is a question data cannot answer, and it may be why some fans feel regretful. Modern football values smooth operation, but mental moments still have their own value. I have seen teams lose simply because no one was brave enough to say 'stay calm' in the storm. What reassures me most is that the door remains open for Van Hau. If he proves his form in the V.League over the next few months, if he avoids another injury and unnecessary trouble, Kim Sang-sik has every reason to call him back. This absence is not a life sentence. It is a reminder that a national-team place must be earned on the pitch, not by reputation. Van Hau is 27, he still has time. But time is not unlimited. If he lets this season slip, younger players will rise and take his place permanently. Looking at the Jakarta match, I am less worried about Van Hau's absence than about how the team operates. Southeast Asian football has changed a lot. Indonesia is no longer the disorganized side of the last decade. They have strong midfielders, naturalized players, and a crowd ready to apply pressure. In such an environment, a disciplined defense that maintains its shape matters more than an outstanding individual. Kim Sang-sik has chosen solidity, and that makes me a bit more confident about the result. Where will the Doan Van Hau story go? I have no crystal ball. But I have a testable prediction: if Vietnam's defense stands firm in Jakarta, the controversy over Van Hau will become mere memory. If the team loses, his name will be lifted up on every forum as a reproach. That is how football works. Nothing is fair, but nothing is too late. For me, a 65-year-old woman who has sat through thousands of matches, I will still stay up until 3 a.m. to watch this game, even if no one is beside me. Because I believe an empty stadium can still hear the hearts of thousands of fans beating as one. And in that heart, there is still a place for Van Hau.