Kim Sang-sik's imprint: Korean wind blows into Vietnamese football

Vietnamese football has never lacked stories of change. But rarely does a story come from a distant perspective, from a Korean man accustomed to harsh winters and intricate tactical calculations. Kim Sang-sik, former Jeonbuk Hyundai star, is now writing a new chapter on the bench of the Vietnam national team. During the 2026 AFC U23 Asian Cup qualifiers, early signals show a Korean breeze seeping into every pass.

I remember an early September 2026 afternoon at My Dinh Stadium, watching a friendly between Vietnam and the Philippines. The first impression was not the 2-0 scoreline, but how players moved off the ball. They no longer ran aimlessly. They ran within a system: overlapping runs, deliberately created spaces. That is the Korean tactical trademark – something I have seen in K-League for years. The 47% direct forward pass rate, up from 32% under coach Troussier, signals a clear shift. Kim Sang-sik does not want possession for its own sake; he wants to control by raising the tempo.

I am Nakamura Nanami, 25, a sports journalist based in Seoul but born Japanese. I have followed Vietnamese football since 2026, from the shock of the 2026 World Cup when I was 17. Back then I started a YouTube channel and received thousands of comments saying 'girls know nothing'. I did not delete them. I made five rebuttal videos with data. Since then I learned: data beats emotion. And now, watching Kim Sang-sik build the team, I see a kindred spirit.

In the 2026 U23 Asian Cup qualifiers, Vietnam is grouped with Jordan, India, and Mongolia. The opening match against Jordan was the real test. Jordan is a physically strong team playing high pressing. Previously, Vietnam often panicked under pressure. But under Kim, the players showed surprising calmness. They were ready to play short balls in their own half, but if pressed, they switched to long balls to the flanks for Nguyen Tien Linh and Pham Tuan Hai, utilizing their speed. VFF statistics show Vietnam's long pass completion rate was 68% in that match, the highest in three years. That is adaptation – not abandoning philosophy, but flexibility against opponents.

The core insight here is a model transfer: from pure ball possession to space control. Kim Sang-sik brought the 'active defense' mindset typical of Korean football. Instead of sitting deep and waiting, the Vietnamese defensive line moved 5-7 meters higher than under Troussier. This puts pressure on the opponent's midfield, but also opens space behind. Risk and reward go together. Against Jordan, center-back Nguyen Thanh Chung made three crucial tackles and two clearances right outside the 16.5m box. He played like a true sweeper, unafraid to step out.

But the story is not only about tactics. It is also about culture. I interviewed some players after the match; they said Kim often plays K-pop in the locker room, and communicates in English but occasionally mixes in Vietnamese words like 'co len' (come on) or 'chay di' (run). That closeness breaks the usual distance between foreign coaches and local players. Nguyen Quang Hai told me: 'Coach does not shout, he analyzes. Everyone understands why we do it.'

At 17 I thought I knew everything about football. At 25 I know I am only good at listening. And I hear patience. Kim Sang-sik is not in a hurry. He lets players adapt to the system rather than forcing them into a rigid mold. Against India, he made five substitutions from the Jordan match, rotating the squad – a common K-League tactic but new to V-League. Result: a 3-1 win with a goal from substitute Van Toan. Trust paid off.

Contrarian angle: Many argue Vietnamese football needs a local coach who understands the culture. But perhaps foreignness is an advantage. Kim brought no preconceptions about 'Vietnamese players being physically weak'. He sees them as blank sheets, equipping them with modern tools. I saw this in Korea under coach Paulo Bento. An outsider can refresh the old picture.

I call this the 'parallel tactical transfer model'. Like how track athletes switch from short sprints to relay races, Vietnamese football is learning to run as a real relay team. Each player knows their position on the track, when to hand over the baton, when to sprint. The average 12 km total distance per player against Jordan – up 1.2 km from the previous period – is no coincidence. It is the result of scientific training.

They tell me to break conventions, but I am just finding a common language for different arenas. Korean and Vietnamese football, on the surface, differ in physique and technique. But underneath, both share a desire: to rise in the Asian football hierarchy. Kim is building a bridge, and early signs are encouraging. In a recent interview, he said: 'I do not want to copy K-League. I want to create a Vietnamese version of modern football.' That is an ambition worth hearing.

What lies ahead? The U23 qualifiers end in October. If Vietnam passes the group stage, they will face big teams like Japan or South Korea. That will be the real test for Kim's imprint. Will the runs still be precise when opponents are faster, stronger? I do not know. But I know that with data and patience, hope remains alive. An empty stadium does not stop the ball; it rolls into another dimension.