Expert Doan Minh Xuong: Without Xuan Son, Vietnam's attack is not just weaker — it loses its entire system

Sarach Yooyen received the ball in central midfield, no one closed him down quickly enough, and his shot from outside the box found the net for Thailand. That was the opening goal in Bandung, Indonesia, in a match where Vietnam controlled possession but created almost nothing. A Vietnam goal was disallowed by VAR for offside. The red shirts kept shooting from distance and crossing from the flanks, but nothing worked. When the match ended 0-2, the race for the group lead had changed completely. Expert Doan Minh Xuong, speaking to Tuoi Tre, opened with a blunt statement: “Without Xuan Son, Vietnam's attack is clearly much weaker.” The comment can be read on two levels. The first is individual absence: losing a striker who can score from one touch. The second is deeper: losing a tactical anchor, a player who holds the ball, shields center-backs, and creates space for those around him. Xuong was not talking about a simple replacement. He was talking about an attacking system that had lost its brain. To understand why, look at Vietnam's preparation. According to the expert, the team entered the tournament with too many problems. Nguyen Xuan Son was injured from the first match and could not continue. Many players were not in good physical condition. Hoang Duc had just returned from injury. Head coach Kim Sang Sik had to work with an incomplete squad against Thailand. Thailand, by contrast, did not need to dominate. They chose a low block, willingly gave Vietnam the ball, closed the central lanes, and waited for counters. Even when Vietnam pushed, Thailand stayed patient. Sarach Yooyen's opener was not luck. When a team defends deep and transitions fast, long-range shots carry real value. Thailand executed that plan. Vietnam's possession was sterile. High ball share, many passes, but most of them safe and in front of a deep defense. Shots came from outside the box. There were few entries into dangerous areas, no clear target for crosses, no one winning duels against Thai center-backs. This is the classic picture of a team that controls the game but cannot break down a low block. Expert Doan Minh Xuong called it a clear weakening. Not because Vietnam lacks good players, but because the attack lost its adhesive. Xuan Son is a rare striker: physical, able to shield the ball, able to operate alone in the box. With him, Vietnam could play more directly. Without him, the whole attacking system had to find another way, but there was neither time nor enough quality. Kim Sang Sik's in-game adjustments revealed the problem. The 3-4-3 became 3-5-2. Cao Quang Vinh, a left-back, was moved into central midfield. That was not a planned tactical innovation. It was a patch for a thin central area. When a full-back must play in midfield, it means the squad lacks depth in a key position. In the second half, Hai Long and Hoang Duc came on. Vietnam's rhythm improved and the team were more cohesive. But the crucial part still did not arrive: a goal or a clear chance. Better tempo could not compensate for poor quality in the final third. Thailand showed squad depth and tactical flexibility. Chanathip played as a false nine. He did not get stuck between center-backs. Instead, he dropped into midfield, pulled a Vietnam defender out of position, and created space for teammates. Thailand's midfield was thicker, allowing them to rotate without losing quality. That is a structural advantage, not just a one-match edge. Vietnam were forced into the opposite of their preferred game state. Their best weapon is defensive counter-attacking. But after conceding first, they had to push forward against a low block. Their strength became their weakness. Thailand got the ideal situation: lead, concede space, counter. They did not need to play better, only to follow the plan better. Still, the story “no Xuan Son means a weak attack” is convenient and incomplete. It is true on the surface but hides deeper problems. Vietnam entered the tournament with poor fitness, an incomplete squad, and a thin midfield that forced a full-back into the middle. That is not bad luck. That is preparation, scheduling, and load management. A big team must have a Plan B. When the main striker is missing, the team needs a different attacking pattern, even if less effective. Instead, Vietnam became a team of long-range shooters. The lack of a functional backup is a squad-design issue, not just an individual absence. Dinh Bac, the young forward asked to replace Xuan Son, became a target of criticism. Expert Doan Minh Xuong said he could not do much. But was Dinh Bac played in the right role? He is not a target forward who can hold off Thai center-backs. Forcing a young player into the wrong role is the fastest way to turn talent into a scapegoat. The team should protect young players, not let them carry the blame for a systemic problem. Pressure is growing on Kim Sang Sik. When a respected expert says the attack is clearly weaker, the public tends to blame the head coach. But the defeat came from fitness issues, an incomplete squad, and injuries to key players. The coach may deserve questions, but he should not carry the whole burden alone. I have followed regional tournaments for years and have rarely seen a Vietnam team so dependent on one striker. That approach is risky. In football, rumors are the most expensive thing and truth is the cheapest. The truth here is simple: the team had no Plan B. The reliance on a naturalized striker also highlights a gap in domestic No. 9 development. For years, fans have waited for a local striker to take that role, but no one has truly done it. Nguyen Xuan Son's eligibility was a timely solution, but a temporary solution should not become the only foundation. Thailand won more than one match. They showed a model with depth, adaptability, and multiple attacking options. Chanathip did not need to sprint for 90 minutes. He just had to play the creative role at decisive moments. Sarach Yooyen is not a center-forward, but he can score from the second line. Vietnam seemed to have only one idea: get the ball to Xuan Son. When that idea disappeared, the whole team lost direction. Vietnam still have matches ahead. But if the thinking remains “wait for Xuan Son and everything will be fine,” the same mistake will return. A team must operate as a system, not rely on one individual. Losing a good player is a challenge, but it is also a chance for others to grow and for the coaching staff to find new answers. Kim Sang Sik's position is now under heavy pressure. The media and fans will scrutinize every decision. But the urgent task is not to find a scapegoat. It is to improve fitness, strengthen central midfield, rotate the squad better, and build an attacking plan that works without a target forward. Doan Minh Xuong's verdict may sound harsh, but it points to a truth the coaching staff must face. Instead of defending an old narrative, Vietnam should answer a bigger question: if Xuan Son cannot play in the decisive matches, how will this team attack? Without an answer, every big match risks repeating the Bandung script. People inside the game never say “impossible.” They say “not yet solved.” Vietnam are currently in a “not yet solved” state. The 0-2 loss to Thailand is not the end of the world, but it is a warning sign. Football does not reward teams with one great star; it rewards teams with an effective plan. A contract never dies, it just waits for the right person to sign it. For Vietnam, what waits is not a contract but an attacking system that can exist without a single name. When that system appears, the attack will truly be strong, with or without Xuan Son.