Tan Sinh, two kicks, and a forgotten fate in Dong Nai

On the evening of September 20, at CLB Thanh pho Dong Nai's ground, the 78th minute. Dinh Bac was holding the ball in midfield, his Cong An Ha Noi shirt soaked in sweat. From behind, Huynh Tan Sinh closed in. The first kick hit the heel. The second kick struck the standing leg. The 22-year-old forward lost his balance and collapsed onto the turf. The referee showed a yellow card. One yellow card for two consecutive kicks at the legs of a player who no longer had the ball. Football is not always as beautiful as we imagine. Sixteen minutes earlier, Van Son had left the pitch with a red card for a cheap shot. The home side were down to ten men, the score already 0-3. Cong An Ha Noi did not need another goal, and Thanh pho Dong Nai had no chance of turning the match around. Yet in the 78th minute, Tan Sinh still lunged at Dinh Bac as if the game had just begun. That kick did not belong to any tactical plan. It stood outside football. Huynh Tan Sinh was born in 2026. At 21, he was part of the Vietnam U23 team that won the gold medal at SEA Games 2026. He lifted the V-League trophy wearing the colors of Ha Noi, then Cong An Ha Noi, then Quang Nam. My notebook once described him as one of the most promising young central defenders in Vietnamese football. Tonight, I opened that notebook again and saw how old those words had become. A career never follows a straight line. In 53 years of watching football, I never chose a seat shaped to watch goals. I watched the slips. A defender's sliding mistake often tells us more than a goal. In the 78th minute, I did not see a slip. I saw two deliberate kicks. Tan Sinh was not looking for the ball. The Dong Nai player aimed his boot at Dinh Bac's ankle, not at the ball. The referee blew the whistle, showed a yellow card and let the game continue. But anyone who has played football knows those two kicks could have carried a man off the pitch on a stretcher. Fans were furious. On social media, they wrote angry comments. One fan wrote: "Tan Sinh, we are colleagues, why are you so cruel? You must respect a colleague's legs." Another wrote: "This is too ugly, unacceptable. This is deliberately trying to destroy an opponent." They called for heavy punishment, suspension, even a lifetime ban. I understand that anger. But I also understand that the anger of the stands does not rescue anyone. It only exposes a truth: Vietnamese football still does not know how to protect its small people. Tan Sinh was once a hero. Tonight, he was the aggressor. But I cannot forget a third image: a 28-year-old player lowering his head and walking back to midfield after the yellow card. They call me a dreamer. But the ball has never hidden anything from me. In one instant, the hero and the violent man lived inside the same person. That kick was the collapse of a fate that has never been fully told. I was in Moscow in 2026, when Luka Modric cried in the World Cup semifinal. My notebook still carries a few Moscow tears. But on September 20, there were no tears. Only a whistle, a yellow card and a defender with his head down. There are things the scoreboard cannot reflect. Football writes poetry in forgotten places, and tonight it wrote about helplessness. Van Son's red card in the 16th minute was also a stain. But the red card at least matched the action. Van Son threw a cheap shot, got a red card, left the pitch. Normal procedure. Tan Sinh, however, delivered two consecutive kicks and received only a yellow. The referee seemed lenient because the team was shorthanded, weaker, losing heavily. Vietnamese football's disciplinary system has always had a blind spot for deliberate actions that are difficult to prove with camera replay. That is the blind spot of justice. I am not writing this to defend Tan Sinh. I only want to say that we should not turn him into the single villain. In Vietnamese football, violence does not start in the 78th minute of September 20. It starts when children are taught that winning is everything. When small clubs are left behind in the relegation fight with thin squads and unstable contracts. When referees fear responsibility more than they fear mistakes. Tan Sinh is a product of a system. He deserves punishment, but the system must also answer. People say victory is glory. But Cong An Ha Noi's 3-0 victory tonight brought no glory to football. It only showed one team that is stronger and better organized, and one team that fell apart emotionally. Thanh pho Dong Nai played with ten men from the 16th minute, conceded three goals and ended the match in anger. They lost not only on the scoreboard. They lost the way they handled themselves. For 69 years, I have believed that a beautiful pass is a confession of love. But on September 20, I saw no beautiful pass. I saw only a curse. If anyone asks me what this match says about Vietnamese football, I will not answer with the score. I will answer with another question: Can we raise players who respect the legs of their opponents? I do not dream of a league without violence. I have lived long enough to know that does not exist in any football culture. But I still believe a tackle can be strong without being cruel. A match can be fierce without trying to destroy the opponent. Tan Sinh deserves a ban. Van Son deserves a ban. But above all, Vietnamese football needs to look at how it treats those who were once heroes and are now only shadows of themselves. When the radio goes on air in the middle of the night, the silent pitch knows how to wait. I am waiting for a miracle that has nothing to do with goals. A miracle where a 22-year-old boy receives two kicks and still gets up. A miracle where a former national champion understands that his legs and the legs of his opponent are both the most valuable possessions. Vietnamese football should not let tears fall in the wrong places.