Nguyen Tien Minh Wins Vietnam Open 2026 Opener: When Experience Speaks, But the Gaze Remains Skewed

At noon on September 8, 2026, at Phu Tho Stadium, Nguyen Tien Minh stepped onto the court with his racket in hand. His opponent, Nguyen Hoang Thai Son, was nearly two decades younger but a doubles specialist. The match unfolded quietly, without live television, without a roaring crowd. Only a few scattered applause and the eyes of those who truly cared. Minh won. A qualifying victory to earn a spot in the main draw. But as he left the court, the lingering question was not "How did he win?" but "Why, at 43, is he still the one who has to win?" Vietnam Open 2026 is a BWF World Tour Super 100 event, held from September 8 to 13, 2026. The tournament gathered over 300 players from 27 countries and territories. It is a playground for players seeking ranking points, young talents needing exposure, and veterans wanting to maintain their competitive edge. Nguyen Tien Minh, at 43 and ranked 254th in the world, is one such figure. He entered the qualifiers, where he faced Nguyen Hoang Thai Son – a doubles specialist with little singles experience. Minh won. But behind that victory lies a broader picture of the Vietnamese badminton team: Le Duc Phat, the top men's singles player, is battling knee and heel injuries, requiring pain-relief injections to compete. Nguyen Hai Dang, another young player, lost in the qualifiers. Meanwhile, in women's singles, Nguyen Thuy Linh – once considered the "other half" of Vietnamese badminton – entered the tournament as a seed, facing Xu Wen Jing, a 19-year-old from Taiwan. The contrast between a 43-year-old veteran still forced to play and young female players seeking their place caught my attention. Minh's victory over Thai Son was not a peak technical performance. According to Minh himself, his opponent was "not strong in singles" but had "strength and speed." It was a modest assessment, but also a tactical truth: Minh exploited the weakness of a doubles player stepping onto the singles court. Doubles players tend to rush the net, move in tandem, and are less accustomed to covering the entire court alone. Minh, with 29 years of experience, needed only a few rallies to recognize that. He directed the shuttle to the corners, varied the pace, and waited for errors. It was the play of someone who understands the court deeply, but it also revealed the quality of the tournament: a Super 100 qualifier, where players like Thai Son participate to test themselves, not to compete on equal terms with singles specialists. But stopping there would miss the more important point. What matters is not that Minh won, but how the media and fans received that victory. In a post-match interview, Minh said: "I still love badminton. I still want to compete." That quote was widely cited as an example of perseverance. But few asked: Why, at 43, is he still the one carrying the burden? Why is there no 20-year-old capable of replacing him? The answer lies in the structure of Vietnamese badminton, where men's singles is witnessing a stagnation of the next generation. Le Duc Phat, the hope, is plagued by injuries. Nguyen Hai Dang, another name, lost immediately in the qualifiers. And Minh, despite being on the downward slope of his career, remains the biggest hope. Based on my experience covering matches, Super 100 events rarely attract major media attention. There is no Hawk-Eye, no rallies analyzed to the millisecond. Metrics like smash speed, rally length, and unforced error rates are hardly recorded. This makes post-match analysis emotional. We only know Minh won, but not how: was it superior fitness, smart tactics, or simply a weak opponent? Without data, any conclusion is speculation. And in the darkness of missing data, heroic narratives are easily woven. This leads me to another angle: the contrast between the gaze on Minh and the gaze on female players. In the same tournament, Nguyen Thuy Linh – who qualified for the Tokyo 2026 Olympics – is preparing for her match against Xu Wen Jing, a 19-year-old. Thuy Linh is 31 this year, still at her peak. She is a seed of the tournament, but how many articles were written about her this week? How many spectators came to watch her play? Meanwhile, Minh's every move is recorded, his every word becomes a quote. The badminton court does not discriminate by gender; only the gaze discriminates between players. That gaze is fixed on a 43-year-old man, while talented women continue to compete in indifference. I am not saying Minh does not deserve praise. He is a legend of Vietnamese badminton, who brought the sport to the world for over two decades. But precisely because he is a legend, we need to look at this victory more soberly. A qualifying win at a Super 100 against a non-specialist doubles player is not a measure of a comeback. It only shows Minh is still capable at this level, but says nothing about his ability to compete at higher tiers. His world ranking – 254th – is an honest number. At 43, he is no longer a threat to top players. But he remains a model of perseverance, and more importantly, a reminder of the void behind him. One detail that received little attention: while Minh was playing, Le Duc Phat – considered his successor – was receiving pain-relief injections to take the court. Phat's knee and heel injuries are serious. According to medical staff, he needs painkillers before every match. This raises questions about the athlete support system: do we have enough medical staff, enough rehabilitation experts to help players stay strong? Or do we simply rely on resilient individuals like Minh, who manage with experience and instinct? Another aspect to consider is the nature of the tournament. Vietnam Open 2026 is a Super 100 event, the lowest tier in the BWF World Tour. It does not feature top players like Viktor Axelsen or Kento Momota. Instead, it is a stage for regional players seeking points to improve their ranking. With 300 players from 27 countries, the tournament is competitive but not of high professional quality. This explains why a 43-year-old can still win in the qualifiers. But it also raises a strategic question: if we only host mid-tier events like this, how can young players learn from top opponents? I recall my own story. In 2026, I left the newsroom to found "Nua San Co" (Half a Pitch), a platform dedicated to women's football. Many thought I was crazy. But I believed that what is overlooked often holds the greatest value. The same applies here. While all eyes are on Minh, the other half of the badminton court – where Thuy Linh and other female players compete – remains in silence. That is a waste. For if Minh is a symbol of endurance, Thuy Linh is a symbol of progress. She has beaten strong opponents, qualified for the Olympics, and continues to improve. Yet she does not receive commensurate attention. This is not Minh's fault. It is the fault of how we perceive sports. Back to the match. Nguyen Hoang Thai Son, Minh's opponent, is a doubles player. He has strength and speed but lacks singles experience. In badminton, singles and doubles are two different worlds. A good doubles player can move flexibly and coordinate well with a partner, but on the singles court, they must make decisions alone, cover the entire court alone, and be responsible for every rally. Minh, with the instinct of a seasoned singles player, exploited that thoroughly. He did not need to play too risky. He just needed to keep the shuttle stable, put the opponent in difficult situations, and wait for errors. It was a smart tactic, but also an easy one. It did not require peak fitness or high-speed rallies. It only required experience. And experience is something Minh has in abundance. However, precisely because of that, this victory cannot be seen as an indicator of Minh's form at larger tournaments. If he faced a true singles player with comprehensive technique and abundant fitness, the result might be different. We have no data to compare, but one thing is certain: at 43, Minh can no longer maintain the intensity of his prime. He participates in this event to keep his feel, to satisfy his passion, and perhaps to earn extra ranking points. But he is no longer a candidate for major titles. And that is normal. What is abnormal is that no one is replacing him. I have followed Vietnamese badminton for many years. I remember the days when Minh was in the world's top 10, facing Lee Chong Wei and Lin Dan. Those matches were symbols of a golden era. But that era has passed. Now we need a new generation. And where is that generation? Le Duc Phat, Nguyen Hai Dang, or other names have yet to reach world class. Meanwhile, in women's singles, Nguyen Thuy Linh has achieved what her male counterparts have not: she qualified for the Olympics and has performed consistently in international events. But she does not receive commensurate investment and attention. That is a paradox. I wonder: is it because women's badminton is considered less "attractive"? Or because Thuy Linh's achievements are not covered strongly enough by the media? In a previous article, I said: "The court does not discriminate by gender; only the gaze discriminates between players." That statement still holds true here. Minh deserves to be celebrated for his contributions. But Thuy Linh also deserves to be recognized as a true star, not a vague "hope." For his part, Minh says he still loves badminton. He says he wants to inspire the younger generation. That is a good intention. But inspiring is not just about continuing to play. It is also about creating an environment where young people can develop. If Minh truly wants to help Vietnamese badminton, he could transition to coaching or support young players. But that is his decision. We cannot force it. We can only observe and ask questions. In the context of the transfer window and news about contracts and sponsorships, one thing is often overlooked: Vietnamese players at Super 100 events often cover part of their expenses themselves. They do not have large sponsorship deals like international stars. They compete for passion, for honor, and for modest prize money. This explains why players like Minh continue. They have no other choice but to keep going. And that is a sad reality. I do not want to turn this article into a lament. I want it to be a reminder. We have an opportunity to reconsider how we evaluate sports. Do not look only at age. Do not look only at gender. Look at performance, at progress, at what is happening on court. And look at what is happening off court: injuries, hardships, forgotten dreams. In women's singles, Nguyen Thuy Linh will face Xu Wen Jing, a 19-year-old. This is a notable match, not only because Thuy Linh is a seed, but because she represents a generation of Vietnamese female players quietly rising. Meanwhile, in men's singles, after Minh, we have Le Duc Phat with his injuries, and Nguyen Hai Dang has lost. This contrast says a lot. It shows that Vietnamese women's badminton has more depth, or at least is more stable. But it also shows the imbalance in investment and attention. If we allocated more resources to women's badminton, perhaps we would have more than one Thuy Linh. I recall the story of "One Half of the World" – the series I did in 2026 on women's football. Back then, I discovered that Vietnamese television broadcast 4,200 hours of men's football in 2026 but only 12 minutes for women's football. A difference of 21,000 times. That number shocked me. But it also showed me the power of data. When you put numbers side by side, injustice becomes clear. In this case, we do not have similar numbers for badminton. But we can sense the disparity through what is said and what is not. Minh was interviewed after the match. Thuy Linh was not. Minh had a dedicated article. Thuy Linh was only mentioned in a roundup. That is why I always try to find overlooked stories. In sports, as in life, the loudest things are not always the most important. Sometimes, a qualifying win by a veteran attracts more attention than a match by a female player at her peak. That is a reality I want to change, by writing about it, by asking questions, and by creating new spaces for forgotten voices. Back to Vietnam Open 2026, the tournament continues. Minh will enter the main draw against Zhe Ying Wu, a player from Taiwan. That will be a much tougher challenge. Thuy Linh will face Xu Wen Jing. Both represent different aspirations. And behind them is a system that needs improvement. I will keep watching, not just to see who wins or loses, but to see which stories are told, and which continue to be forgotten. Contrarian angle: While most media praise Minh as a symbol of endurance, I argue that this victory reflects a more serious structural problem. At 43, Minh is still the one who has to take the court to earn a main draw spot at a Super 100 event. That does not speak to his greatness, but to the absence of young players. If Vietnamese badminton had a proper development system, we would not need a 43-year-old veteran to carry the burden at a mid-tier event. Moreover, focusing on Minh inadvertently obscures other stories, such as Le Duc Phat's injuries or Nguyen Thuy Linh's progress. We are looking at one half of the picture and calling it the whole. "One Half of the World" – that is how I refer to what is left behind. And in this case, the left-behind half is female players, young people, and systemic issues. People call it leaving; I call it finding my half of the court. With Minh, perhaps he does not want to leave yet. He is still searching for his other half, even at 43. But that half cannot always have only one person. It needs young people to step in, female players to be recognized, and a system that knows how to ask the right questions. So next time you see news that Nguyen Tien Minh won a match, do not just ask "How does he do it at 43?" Ask "Why, at 43, is he the only one who can?" The answer will not be found in a single match, but in an entire system. And until we change our gaze, the other half of the badminton court will remain in silence.