Nobody Is Broadcasting Asiad 20: Vietnamese Football Is Losing Its Audience Before Kickoff

2 PM on September 14 is kickoff for the Vietnam women's team's opening match against Chinese Taipei in the Asiad 20 group stage. At 5 PM on September 15, it is U23 Vietnam's turn to face Kuwait. Two opening matches, two first tests for Vietnamese football on the continental stage, just 27 hours apart. But as of the morning of September 14, not a single television station, not a single OTT platform, not a single entity in Vietnam had confirmed holding broadcast rights. Our fans are facing the risk of being unable to watch their own national teams play at an Asian Games for which the country has invested years of preparation.

Let me be blunt: this is not a technical story, it is a broadcast rights story. And in modern sport, a match that is not broadcast simply does not exist. You can win, you can lose, you can make history — but if tens of millions of fans back home cannot see that moment, the victory is stripped of half its meaning. Football was born to have an audience. Without an audience, all that remains is 22 people playing on a cold pitch in Japan, half a world away.

Before dissecting this broadcast rights crisis, we need to place it in the proper context of the 20th Asian Games, which regional media are following closely.

Asiad 20 is being held in Japan, with the opening ceremony scheduled for September 19. It is Asia's largest multi-sport event, bringing together representatives from 45 countries and territories, with more than 11,000 athletes competing across 469 events in 43 sports. Football — the king of sports — by the tradition of past Asian Games, always kicks off several days before the opening ceremony to fit a crowded group stage. That is why Vietnam's matches fall on September 14 and 15, four days before the flame is formally lit.

In the draw, the Vietnam women's team sits in Group E, facing Chinese Taipei in the opener at 2 PM. U23 Vietnam is in Group C, facing Kuwait at 5 PM the next day. In terms of seeding and status, Vietnamese teams are positioned by domestic media in the "upper tier" of Southeast Asian football, with the women's team even having been seeded No. 1 at a past Asian Games for the first time. But the very author of these reports admits a paradox: seeded, placed in the "upper tier," yet not necessarily rated highly in real strength. Seeding is administrative. True class is decided on the pitch.

What is worth noting is that this entire paradox is being overshadowed by a more serious, life-or-death problem for the sports industry: broadcast rights have not been determined.

We must understand the nature of things clearly: broadcast rights for an Asian Games belong to the entity that owns the event — the Olympic Council of Asia (OCA) together with the host organizing committee — and are sold by territory. That means broadcast rights for "Vietnam territory" are a separate package that must be purchased, negotiated, and signed with terms on exclusivity, duration, and possibly replay rights. For football, rights may be redistributed through the Asian Football Confederation (AFC) under sub-licensing arrangements. This is not about the tournament being organized for free for everyone to watch. It is a commercial deal.

And this deal, in Vietnam, is standing still. According to information published by Tuổi Trẻ, a Vietnamese entity was reportedly "close to finalizing" the purchase of rights over a week ago. Then silence. No announcement. No figure. No explanation. The reason for the delay, according to the source itself, remains "unclear." That is a detail I believe cannot be ignored, because in commercial negotiation, silence often says more than loud statements.

The first principle when analyzing a media-rights negotiation impasse close to kickoff: the "unclear" is always the most expensive part.

When an entity is at the "close to finalizing" stage but cannot close, there are three main possibilities, and all three should worry fans. First, the negotiation collapsed over price. The buyer finds the seller's price — which typically escalates as match day nears — exceeds expected returns. Second, there is a financial or payment-guarantee obstacle: an Asian Games rights deal is far from small, and the money flow must be secured before a contract becomes effective. Third, there are legal-procedural or replay-term entanglements between parties. In all three scenarios, the immediate consequence is the same: the viewer loses.

But if we look only at the silence, we will miss the sharpest detail of the whole story. That is the fact that five Southeast Asian countries have completed their rights acquisitions — Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, and the Philippines — while Vietnam, one of the region's most football-crazed markets, still has nothing. Five out of six. Vietnam is the odd name in the whole region's preparation picture.

This is no longer about a single television station. When Indonesia — where I live and work — has closed its rights deal, when Thailand and Malaysia have broadcast plans in place, the question is not "why is Vietnam slow" but "what has made Vietnam fall behind in a race all its neighbors have finished." A football market with tens of millions of fans, where every national team match becomes a national event, cannot produce a single entity to close rights for an Asian Games happening right in front of it.

From the perspective of someone who works in sports commentary between two halves of a border, I see a familiar paradox of Vietnamese football. We talk a great deal about continental ambitions, about investing in the national team to compete on the big stage, about building the image of a professional football industry. But when it comes to the final link — delivering the product to the consumer — the calculation gets dropped. This is the fracture point of an entire system.

The fracture point of this story lies here: modern elite sport is a closed value chain, and broadcast rights are the final link that determines the cash flow of the entire chain.

Look at the scale of the event to understand why this link matters so much. Asiad 20 has 469 events, 43 sports, more than 11,000 athletes. That is a mountain of content. Within it, football is the leading product for the Vietnam market, for the simple reason that the women's team and U23 Vietnam play before the opening ceremony even happens. These two matches are the first events, the most attractive, drawing the most attention in the early stage of the Games. For a broadcaster, these are golden days for selling advertising — but also the riskiest days if the contract has not been signed in time.

The rights business equation is clear. The buyer recoups capital through three channels: advertising, subscription fees (for pay or OTT platforms), and sponsorship. If a contract is only closed hours before kickoff, the runway for advertising sales is compressed to an extreme degree. TV advertising is not a product sold overnight. Clients need time to plan, produce, and schedule airtime. A station signing a contract at noon on September 14 for a match at 2 PM the same day is essentially foregoing almost the entire peak advertising opportunity — normally the largest revenue component. This pushes them into a hard choice: either accept a loss to preserve credibility, or shift the entire cost onto viewers through a paywalled platform.

That is why I believe the most likely scenario, if the deal is closed, is that Vietnamese fans will have to watch their national teams through a pay platform or a restricted OTT format, not through the familiar free-to-air signal. This is a form of "crisis tax" that fans must bear, not because they did anything wrong, but because the negotiating system behind them was slow.

And a bigger question: why should fans pay the price for the delay of the grown-ups?

This is where we need to talk about an aspect I want to call the "responsibility gap." Looking at this picture, we see a paradox of roles. The women's and U23 teams are preparing to play — they are the ones directly representing the nation. The Vietnam Football Federation is the body that manages, organizes, and supports the national delegation. Television stations and digital platforms are the commercial entities that hold distribution rights. But in this entire story, all three groups are absent from the role of giving viewers an answer. No one says clearly who is doing what. No one takes responsibility for why things are slow. Football is a team sport, but the responsibility for letting fans watch football is being passed back and forth like a ball no one wants to hold.

There is a truth I want to emphasize as an observer: teams create the product, but they do not own the distribution channel. They cannot broadcast their own matches. So the pressure to resolve rights does not lie with them — it lies with entities capable of commercial action. Blaming players or coaching staff is entirely the wrong direction. But the Vietnamese football community, from management level to business level, allowing an Asian Games to begin without a broadcasting agreement, is a sign of a lack of coordination across the whole ecosystem.

I know someone will argue back: "Asian Games rights are expensive, not every station can afford them." True. I do not deny the financial pressure. But that is precisely why negotiations need to start very early, rather than scrambling to do so just before the opening ceremony. Our Southeast Asian rivals do not have significantly deeper pockets — they simply started earlier and finished on time. That is the difference between a sports industry operated as an industry and one operated in firefighting mode.

Here I want to mention a detail I have observed over years of following regional football from Jakarta. Countries such as Indonesia and Thailand have treated broadcast rights for major sports events as part of an overall strategy, planned in tandem with other tournaments in the cycle. They do not negotiate each event piecemeal at the last minute. They negotiate in blocks, by season, by multi-year cycle. When an Asian Games arrives, they already hold pre-existing agreements. This reduces risk, lowers marginal cost, and — most importantly — ensures fans are not abandoned.

If Vietnam wants to end the "don't know where to watch" situation every time a major tournament comes around, it needs a systematic approach: multi-event rights purchases by cycle, or participation in a regional cooperation mechanism to share costs. This is a reform-oriented proposal, and I admit it is not easy to implement in the short term. But it is the only path to spare fans the anxiety every time the national team takes the field on the continental stage.

Back to the present. I need to state my view clearly on the upcoming scenario, even knowing that prediction is a double-edged sword. Worst case: no Vietnamese station closes rights before kickoff of the women's match — 2 PM on September 14 — leading to Vietnamese fans having to watch via foreign feeds or unofficial channels. Middle case: a deal closes at the wire, just hours or a day before the U23 match against Kuwait, with restricted broadcast terms. Optimistic case: a deal is announced with broad coverage, free or nearly free, turning the crisis into a good-news story.

Reading the signals carefully — especially the detail of "close to finalizing over a week ago but still silent" — I lean toward the middle case. But I also leave open the possibility of the worst case, because a deal that is nearly done, if unsigned, can still fail to be signed. In negotiation, the gap between "almost done" and "done" can be a week, a day, or forever.

To the fans, I want to send a reminder: distinguish clearly between the system's fault and the team's fault. The Vietnamese women's and U23 players did not prepare for Asiad 20 to deal with a media crisis. They need support, need to be seen, need a stand — even a digital one. When they step onto the pitch in Japan, what they deserve is millions of eyes watching, not a silence coming from home.

And here is the point I want those working in Vietnamese media and sports management to engrave on their hearts: in the digital age, the failure to broadcast a sports event does not stop the demand to watch — it only shifts that demand to channels you do not control, cannot measure, and from which you earn not a single đồng of profit.

Look at the broader context. This is Asiad 20 in Japan, a Games with more than 11,000 athletes from 45 countries and territories. When all of Southeast Asia has closed rights one by one — Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, the Philippines — Vietnam still lacking a deal leaves us as outsiders in our own region. This is no small story. It is not only about two football matches, but about the credibility of a football market with great potential but weak commercial discipline.

I will say bluntly what few dare to say. The biggest problem of Vietnamese sports is not a lack of player talent or a lack of ambition on the pitch — it is clumsiness in the commercial operation and distribution of sports products to the public. We are good at creating moments, but poor at delivering those moments to millions of people at once.

This reminds me of similar incidents. Every time a major sports event comes around, the question "where to watch" rises like a familiar anxiety. It becomes a pattern, a structural blind spot in how Vietnamese sports is operated. And blind spots tend to cost more than people think. They cost image, cost audience trust, and cost missed sponsorship opportunities.

Someone will ask: so who will save this scenario? I believe there are three paths. One, traditional television stations joining forces to share rights costs, reducing the burden on each. Two, OTT platforms and telecom carriers investing in a joint-purchase model, using Asiad 20 as a lure to attract subscribers. Three, the government or federation intervening in some way to guarantee free access for the people — a mechanism similar to the must-carry free-events lists that exist in some countries but has not been established in Vietnam in this case.

In all three paths, the common point is the need to act now, not wait. Because "now" is the only concept that still means anything when the women's match is imminent and the U23 match is just over a day away.

I want to say one more thing about Vietnamese rights managers — those who are silent. Silence before kickoff does not give you a negotiating advantage. It only makes the public lose trust and makes partners undervalue your seriousness. If the deal collapsed over price, say so. If it was delayed by technical issues, say so. Transparency is not a sign of weakness — it is a sign of a mature market.

To the fans, I understand your frustration. But do not let that frustration turn into turning your back on the teams. This is not the players' fault. You can be angry at the stations, the organizers, the silent entities — but keep the flame of support for the teams. The women's match against Chinese Taipei, the U23 match against Kuwait, are still important matches for Vietnamese football's journey on the continental stage. However you have to watch, watch. Whichever way is within your means, follow. Because the national team is not chosen by the broadcaster — they are chosen by the nation.

To close, I want to place an honor bet on a verifiable prediction, exactly as I always do. Within 48 hours of this article — that is, at the latest by the end of September 15, when the U23 match against Kuwait ends — there will be at least one official announcement that a Vietnamese entity holds Asiad 20 broadcast rights, at least for football. If that does not happen, it means Vietnamese fans will face an extended broadcast gap for one of the most important sports events of the year. And if I am wrong — come back after September 15 and show me. I am always ready to admit error when there is evidence.

But whatever the outcome, one thing I firmly believe: a football industry only truly grows strong when it not only produces good players but also builds the system to bring those players' images to the whole population. Football is not a game for any single group. It is the shared asset of a nation. And a shared asset must be managed better than what we are witnessing in these days leading up to Asiad 20.

The Vietnam women's team takes the field at 2 PM on September 14. U23 Vietnam steps onto the pitch at 5 PM on September 15. Those numbers are fixed. The only open question is: how many millions of Vietnamese will be able to see them, and on which channel. The answer to that question will not come from the pitch. It comes from meeting rooms we are not in. But its consequences we will bear, whether we like it or not.

Objectively speaking, this situation reflects a simple but uncomfortable truth: sport is an industry, and this industry needs to be operated with commensurate professionalism. When on-pitch ambition is not backed by off-pitch operational capacity, the result is always similar gaps — and the ones who pay are always the most loyal fans, the ones ready to stay up late, ready to give their time, ready to place their emotions into a match they are not even sure they can watch.

I am writing this from Jakarta, where football is treated as an industry with rights deals planned months in advance. I do not write this to praise a neighbor or belittle home. I write because I know Vietnamese football can do better. And because, ultimately, Vietnamese fans deserve to watch their national teams play on the continental stage — clearly, officially, and not through the blurry screen of a nameless channel.

When people ask me about the biggest weakness of Vietnamese football, I usually do not answer about the defense or finishing ability. I answer about the ability to turn sports moments into a shared experience for the whole nation. Asiad 20 — with two opening matches at hand — is another test of that capacity. And this test, so far, shows signs of failing.

As for the teams, they will do what they must: take the field, fight, and try to get the best result. As an observer, I will follow both matches — by any means I can, like millions of other fans. And while following, I will keep asking questions about the system that let this happen. Because asking questions, even late, is better than silence. And silence, as we have seen, has never been a solution.

Finally, let me say this bluntly to those holding responsibility: every hour that passes without a rights announcement is an hour in which public trust in the nation's sports industry is eroded a little more. That trust is not infinite. And when it runs out, reclaiming it will be harder than any rights deal. Asiad 20 will pass. But how we handle it will be remembered. The only question is whether it is remembered with respect, or with disappointment.