Nguyen Tien Minh and the paradox of a veteran at the Vietnam Open 2026

Nguyen Tien Minh, at 43, has just passed the qualifying round of the Vietnam Open 2026 by defeating Nguyen Hoang Thai Son. This seemingly simple victory opens a larger story about the generational transition of Vietnamese badminton, about silent injuries, and about a men's singles training foundation that remains neglected. On the third evening of the Super 100 tournament in Ho Chi Minh City, while sitting in the press area next to a young journalist who was enthusiastically tweeting about Minh's 'resurgence', I looked at the technical data and saw nothing to call a 'resurgence'. His opponent, Nguyen Hoang Thai Son, is primarily a doubles player. From a professional standpoint, singles and doubles are entirely different sports under the same name. A doubles player lacks the habit of full-court movement and is not used to facing alone the pressure of long rallies. That difference cannot be compensated by mere physical fitness. Minh exploited it. 'He is not strong in singles. I just had to keep the rhythm and push the shuttle to the two back corners,' Minh said in the press conference, his voice as calm as if he were recounting a training session. That is experience that cannot be measured by speed or power, but is built from more than two decades of top-level play. Numbers are silent witnesses, but they are the easiest to interrogate. Look at Minh's 254th ranking: it shows a decline in form at major tournaments, but it does not reflect his ability to read the match. A 43-year-old player cannot run as fast as he did at 20, but he can make his opponent run much more. The 2026 Vietnam Open is a Super 100 event on the Badminton World Federation (BWF) circuit, a modest tournament offering limited ranking points and prestige compared to Super 1000 or Super 750 events. Yet it is a lifeline for Vietnamese players to gain points and international exposure. The participation of more than 300 athletes from 27 countries/territories shows the tournament's appeal in the region, though it lacks top Asian players from China or Indonesia. This creates a moderate competitive environment but also exposes the gap that Vietnamese fans face. At another corner of the stadium, Le Duc Phat had just finished a match in which he needed pain relief injections before stepping on court due to knee and heel injuries. The image of his wife watching anxiously from the stands further highlighted the harshness of men's singles. Nguyen Hai Dang, another young talent, had been eliminated early. Domestically, people only noticed that Nguyen Thuy Linh had to face 19-year-old Xu Wen Jing in the main draw. But for those who have followed the sport for a long time, the bigger picture is alarming: Vietnamese men's singles is in an unfinished transition. Once the gap is identified, the question is not how to save the situation with Minh, but why we allowed a system to depend on a 43-year-old. The essence of Minh's tactics against Thai Son, from my perspective, was a 'opportunistic and experience-based' style – attacking the opponent's defensive weaknesses rather than using overwhelming force. He did not need powerful smashes or fast footwork. Every shot was placed precisely to make Thai Son turn and stretch, forcing him to repeatedly face difficult saves. From my seat, it was clear that Thai Son lacked the habit of tracking his opponent's position after returning the shuttle. He was like a doubles player trying to apply his habits to a different battle. This playing style exposes one of the fundamental principles of badminton: adapting quickly to a new role. Even if a player is excellent in doubles, when switching to singles, without specialized training in movement and tactics, he will reveal fatal weaknesses. Thai Son must have had difficult moments when the shuttle went beyond his reach, when he had to turn 180 degrees repeatedly. This shows the difference between a doubles specialist and someone who can play both disciplines well. However, I believe that celebrating Minh's victory is short-sighted. The real story lies in the gap between badminton levels. In top countries like Japan, South Korea, or Taiwan, players at 43 have long retired to make way for the younger generation. Having to rely on a 'veteran' only shows that our talent pool is thinning. If this factor is not considered, fans can easily fall into a false sense of security. Every penalty requires a calmer pen than the crowd, and here, the verdict is not for a temporary victory, but for the health of the entire badminton foundation in the coming years. The irony is that Minh himself understands this. In a quick post-match interview, when asked about his secret at 43, he smiled and said: 'I don't think much about age. I just want to continue playing badminton, to compete and enjoy the feeling of competition.' These words carry weight, but they cannot deny that in these Super 100 events, having to carry the whole national team is an unnecessary burden. In the next round, Minh will face Zhe Ying Wu from Taiwan. The opponent is younger and better ranked, but his form is uncertain. If Minh loses, the qualifying win against a doubles player means little to his standing. Conversely, if he wins, the story will be blown up again. But sports science shows that competing with dense schedule at middle age increases the risk of injury. We have seen how legends like Taufik Hidayat or Peter Gade declined when age made it impossible to keep up with young opponents. They wisely chose to retire at the right time. Minh has not done so, making fans both admire and worry. Looking more broadly, this year's tournament gives me a different perspective on Vietnamese badminton. There is a lack of major sponsors, limited facilities, and only a few young faces standing out. Arranging for Minh to play in qualifying may be a necessary decision to attract spectators, but it also inadvertently hides the root problems. We need to analyze why the older generation has not produced many excellent successors. The youth training system at sports centers remains largely grassroots, lacking professional and psychological investment. When the whole world takes sides, the referee has only one choice: the rules. Here, 'rules' are not for officials, but for strategic planning. One often-overlooked fact is that Le Duc Phat and Nguyen Hai Dang – considered the future – have both failed to show consistency. Meanwhile, Nguyen Thuy Linh remains the pillar in women's singles, creating an imbalance in development. Countries like Thailand or India have succeeded with their own badminton academies; Vietnam still depends on a national team with a thin roster. Is that why we always have only one men's singles star per era? Since 2026, besides Nguyen Tien Minh, who has truly carried the flag at international tournaments? The Vietnam Open 2026 Super 100 event may be just a small activity in the BWF system. But for Vietnam, it is a test of organizational capacity and investment. The organizers did well to attract more than 300 athletes from 27 countries, an impressive number for a Super 100 event. However, professionally, without bolder steps in youth training, we will keep looping in the cycle of 'finding someone to replace Minh'. Look at how major powers continuously build their squads: they do not wait until a generation departs before building the next. They always have a long-term plan where young talents are exposed to high-level competition, accept failures and learn. Tonight, before leaving the stadium, I saw Minh signing autographs for a group of children. They wore national team jerseys, eyes sparkling. Perhaps one of them is a future talent. But without a supporting system, they will quickly falter under pressure and injuries. Nguyen Tien Minh can provide inspiration, but inspiration cannot replace a proper training program. We need to look beyond a qualifying win, beyond a Super 100 tournament. Vietnamese badminton needs a strategic revolution, starting by listening to experienced players like Minh not only to play, but also to mentor the young generation. Only then can we truly be proud of a successor generation, rather than using a 'veteran' as the last resort.