Violence Returns to V-League: The VAR Era Under Challenge from Off-Ball Fouls

The ball is moving, the whistle blows at the 88th minute, but my eyes are still fixed on Doan Ngoc Tan's leg. It is resting at the wrong angle. I have followed Vietnamese football for nearly three decades, covered eight World Cups and eight Olympics, but a defining midfielder breaking his leg in a challenge for a ball that is nowhere near him never gets easier to watch. What is even more frightening is that this moment is not isolated. Within fewer than three rounds of the 2026 V-League season, we have recorded a stamp on the stomach, two off-ball kicks targeting the same player, and an emergency meeting of the VFF Disciplinary Committee just one day after a match. This season's story does not begin with tactics. It begins with kicks delivered behind the referee's back. I have sat in the dressing rooms of many teams in many countries, and I have learned that a football team is not simply about victories; it has its own heartbeat, and I am the one who writes that rhythm down. This season, the heartbeat of the V-League is beating fast and distorted. The match between Dong Nai and Hanoi Police on September 20 should have been just a fixture between a newly promoted club and an ambitious powerhouse. Dong Nai had just returned from the First Division. They were three goals down, one man down, and in a situation where they had nothing left to lose, they stopped playing for the ball entirely. Twice, Nguyen Dinh Bac – the young rising player at Hanoi Police – was fouled from behind in situations where the ball was already far away. The first was a heel stamp. The second time, centre-back Huynh Tan Sinh lunged in and stamped on Dinh Bac's foot when the ball was already somewhere else. Referee Le Vu Linh only produced a yellow card. The television cameras caught every detail, and the video began spreading at alarming speed. What bothers me is not just those incidents. It is the way they took place completely outside the referee's control. A stamp on the stomach by foreign player Ezequiel Santos Da Silva at Nam Dinh in an earlier match, then the classic challenge by Doan Van Hau in the opening round. Van Hau – a national team star – made a two-footed tackle, did not touch the ball, and the result was Doan Ngoc Tan of The Cong Viettel leaving the pitch on a stretcher. The later diagnosis confirmed a broken leg. A player at the peak of his career may now sit out for a full year. Football expert Doan Minh Xuong calls these situations "superfluous tackles" – challenges that are completely unnecessary, offering no tactical benefit, no contest for the ball, no defensive purpose. They only serve one goal: sending a message about physical dominance, or taking revenge. In an environment where VAR has existed for three seasons, such plays are a form of evading technology. Players know the cameras are following the ball, so they shift their violence to the blind spots of the officials. But there is a subtle difference I want to uncover. For Doan Van Hau, this is not a moment of loss of control or a lack of awareness. This is a habit. Journalist Duong Vu Lam, who has followed domestic football for years, points out that Van Hau's dangerous tackles are not a first-time occurrence. They call it a "hard-to-break habit" – a player used to competing with brute strength, used to receiving leniency, and when VAR forces him to play more carefully, the line between tactical fouls and violent conduct becomes blurred. Meanwhile, Huynh Tan Sinh and the Dong Nai players carry a different issue: lack of awareness. They came from the First Division, where VAR is not used regularly. They are used to getting away with small fouls behind the play – small pushes, heel stamps, no one sees them. When they step up to the V-League, they bring the habits of the old league. Ezequiel, a foreign player experiencing Vietnamese football for the first time, is also in this group. He does not yet understand that VAR will examine every detail, and that a stamp on the stomach will not disappear just because the referee does not see it. I have witnessed too many cases like this. In 2026, I was embedded with Shanghai SIPG under coach Vitor Pereira, and I learned that the price of an uncontrolled challenge never stops at a red card. It can end someone's career. Tran Anh Khoa of SHB Da Nang is a painful example. A tackle during a match against Hanoi T&T in 2026 meant he could never return to top-level football. Anh Hung of An Giang, Hoang Vu Samson of Hanoi, different names but the same pain: a career ended or seriously damaged by a malicious tackle. We wrote about them, we condemned them, and then it all repeats. This time the story has one new element: the emergency meeting. On September 21, just one day after the match between Dong Nai and Hanoi Police, the VFF Disciplinary Committee had to sit down together. This is not a routine meeting. This is a meeting convened under media pressure, when videos are replayed again and again across social media platforms. Duong Vu Lam was right: ugly plays spread very fast and repeatedly, and when public opinion raises its voice, the disciplinary board can no longer stay silent. The statement from the VFF confirmed they would review three major incidents. First, Doan Van Hau's challenge on Doan Ngoc Tan. Second, Ezequiel's stamp on the stomach. Third, the series of fouls by Huynh Tan Sinh targeting Nguyen Dinh Bac. At the same time, referee Le Vu Linh and the VAR team consisting of Vo Hoai Thuong and Nguyen Thanh Son were also placed under review, because the question now is not only whether players are guilty, but also why technology expected to protect players did not speak up. Let me talk about VAR. I have followed three seasons since VAR arrived in the V-League, and I can confirm that it has created a real change. Vietnamese players began to compete more carefully, more intelligently. They know that a tackle from behind will be caught on camera, and they learn to restrain themselves. Statistics on red cards fell in the first two seasons. The national team – with its disciplined, low-card style – achieved success at the regional level. This is a beautiful story about the power of technology to change behaviour. But that beautiful story is now being tested. Because VAR cannot completely change human beings. It only pushes bad behaviour into darker areas. When players realize that the referee and VAR mainly follow the ball, they learn how to commit fouls when the ball is far away. They learn how to stamp heels, kick from behind, use elbows in situations where both the human eye and the camera are blocked. This is not a battle against technology; it is an arms race between offenders and enforcers. What worries me most is that this race can make the worst people win. I was in a meeting in Shanghai when a league executive said that the media likes controversy because it creates engagement. He was right. Videos of Huynh Tan Sinh's stamp may attract millions of views, but that does not mean we should celebrate it. A society that is increasingly violent on the pitch becomes increasingly accepting of violence off it. And the children watching that day learned something: if you are not caught, you can get away with anything. There is a counter-intuitive angle I want to raise, even though it may upset some people. We are rushing to conclude that "violence has returned," but the current evidence is insufficient to support a major trend. We have only gone through rounds 2 and 3 of the season. Three or four serious incidents, however condemnable, are still too small a sample to declare that the V-League is regressing after the VAR era. What I see as truly worrying is a behavioural pattern: violent plays are concentrated among newly promoted teams and players unfamiliar with VAR. Look closely and you will see an uncomfortable reality. Dong Nai, the newly promoted side, is the team with the most malicious fouls. Ezequiel, a new foreign player who has never played in the V-League, committed an unacceptable stamp. Meanwhile, Doan Van Hau – a national team star, a player expected to set an example – made a challenge that broke an opponent's leg. These are two different problems being mixed together. One is about adaptation: newcomers have not been trained on VAR discipline, have not been equipped with the knowledge of how to play clean in a league with technology. The other is the long-standing habit of a star who has benefited from leniency in the past. And in the middle is a disciplinary system reacting to public emotion. I do not believe the VFF called an emergency meeting because they long recognized the problem. I believe they met in an emergency because the videos had gone viral, because of public pressure, because if they did not act, they would be accused of covering up. That raises a serious question: should justice be distributed based on how viral a video is on social media, or based on a unified set of rules? If a player in a match with few viewers commits a similar act but nobody notices, does he receive a lighter punishment? If so, then what we are building is not fairness, but a theatre of outrage. I remember the story of Makoto Hasebe at the 2026 World Cup, when Japan lost a reverse match against Belgium in the round of 16. The Japanese captain sat in the tunnel, his eyes red, talking about the fans picking up trash in the stands while his team had just lost a historic match. He cried not because of the defeat, but because he felt he had betrayed people who believed in decent football. When I wrote that article, many colleagues said I was weak. But the fan community shared it tens of thousands of times. They needed someone to understand that football, at every level, should be played with respect for colleagues. In the 2026 V-League season, we are lacking that decent football. A player from a team that is three goals down and has a man sent off still cannot remain calm, and instead of trying to score, he chooses to stamp on an opponent's leg. That says something not only about Huynh Tan Sinh. It speaks about an environment lacking deterrent discipline. When a player can no longer keep calm, the longer he stays on the pitch, the more dangerous he becomes. Referee Le Vu Linh missed a chance to extinguish the fire before it spread. I have covered many violent matches across the world, from South America to Europe, from Asia to Africa. I have seen leagues where violence is part of the culture, where players treat destroying an opponent as a dark art. And I have seen leagues escape that spiral thanks to firm disciplinary decisions, regardless of the identity of the offender. The strongest football federations are not the ones with the most money, but the ones brave enough to punish their own stars when those stars are wrong. If the VFF handles Doan Van Hau breaking someone's leg with just a light sanction, they will send a message not only to players, but to the entire Vietnamese football ecosystem: the more famous you are, the more entitlement you have to hurt people without paying a price. On the contrary, if the VFF punishes severely, they could create a turning point. I remember the early days of VAR, when players rushed to argue with referees because they were not used to being caught. Three seasons later, they have adapted. They play cleaner, more beautiful football, and the national team – with its wise use of VAR – has achieved success. That proves behavioural change is possible. It simply needs to be reinforced every time someone tries to cross the line. A heavy sanction now will make ten matches cleaner later. A light one will open up a long season full of retaliation. Some people say that football is emotion, that collisions are part of the game. I agree with the first half of that sentence. Football is emotion, but that emotion must be restrained by rules. A clash during a contest for the ball is acceptable. A stamp from behind when the ball is far away is not a collision; it is an assault. For someone who has written about football for 28 years, that distinction is very clear. And I want the young players watching these matches to understand that difference before it is too late. At a press conference after the match, a reporter asked me whether Dinh Bac should think about protecting himself more on the pitch, since he is often targeted. I looked at him and said: the question is not what Dinh Bac should do to avoid being bullied. The question is why the system allows bullies to do it. When a young talented player is fouled twice in one match by two different players from the same team in situations where the ball is far away, that is not a coincidence. That is a message. And if the referee does not protect him, and VAR does not protect him, then who protects him? In a football market where young players like Dinh Bac are valuable assets, letting them be destroyed on the pitch is not just a sporting issue. It is an economic issue. Clubs invest in training, in contracts, in player development; it can all collapse in one single tackle. I have seen it happen. I saw Tran Anh Khoa at SHB Da Nang, a promising talent, forced to say goodbye to top-level football after one tackle. I have seen careers broken not because of a lack of talent, but because of a lack of protection from the people who make the rules. Consider an aspect few people talk about: the difference between the First Division and the V-League regarding disciplinary culture. Promoted players are not systematically taught how to handle VAR. They arrive with old habits, and when those habits are exposed, they are labelled as violent offenders. But who prepared them? Does the federation have an education programme for foreign players and newcomers about VAR rules? Do clubs have serious internal discipline rules? I am afraid the answer is no. And so we tend to blame individuals, while lacking a preventive mechanism. That is why I think the emergency meeting of September 21 should be seen as an opportunity. The VFF can choose to handle each incident separately, or they can choose to build a system. I want to see a clear disciplinary code, published publicly, where each type of violent conduct is attached to a specific punishment. I want to see mandatory VAR education for all players promoted from the First Division and for all foreign players before their first match. I want to see clubs held responsible when their players repeatedly engage in violent conduct, not just individuals punished. Without those changes, I believe we will return to an old loop. A season begins with promises, then a shocking incident, then public condemnation, then a symbolic sanction, then everything goes quiet until the next season. I have witnessed that loop too many times, in Vietnam and in many other places around the world. Fans deserve to watch a kind of football where they do not have to worry that their favourite player will be kicked and injured in a challenge for a ball that is not even near them. Children deserve to grow up with role models who understand that strength is not a weapon. As I left the stadium that night, I saw a group of Dong Nai supporters sitting long after the match. They were not singing. They were not shouting. They just sat there, quietly looking toward the tunnel. I stood among the crowd and understood that tears are also a language of love; they love their team, but they cannot justify what they had just witnessed. One of them told me: "We just got promoted after so many years, and now everyone knows Dong Nai only because of dirty kicks. How shameful." I had nothing more to say. A healthy football culture is not built on victories, but on how we handle defeat. Dong Nai lost that match, but they did not need to lose their dignity as well. Huynh Tan Sinh may be suspended for many matches, and that addresses the symptom, but not the root. The root lies in the inconsistency of the disciplinary system, in how VAR is still treated as an enemy instead of a protector, in how small clubs must defend themselves in an unfair playing field. I do not know what decision the VFF will make. I do not know whether Doan Van Hau will be punished as severely as any ordinary player, whether referee Le Vu Linh will be disciplined for failing to protect Dinh Bac, whether the VAR crews will have to explain why they remained silent in a moment that the whole world saw. But I know Vietnamese football is at a crossroads. One option leads to a long season of revenge, viral incidents, and punishments designed to please public opinion. The other option leads to a place where players know the line cannot be crossed, and those who cross it will pay, regardless of name, regardless of club. I once wrote: there are trophies that can never be lifted, but they remain heavy in the heart – these are the titles of those who stay behind. Doan Ngoc Tan may have to sit out for a year. He may never reach the best version of himself again. That is a price too high for a tackle with no ball. In this game, we often talk about tactics, technique, sportsmanship. But before the goal, after the goal, and between those two moments – a whole lifetime has flowed through. The only remaining question is whether we, as a community, are brave enough to tell that story in a way that is strict, fair, and humane.