World Cup 2026: When Huynh Nhu and Vietnamese Women Rewrote History

Forsyth Barr Stadium in Dunedin, New Zealand, July 22, 2026. The Vietnamese women's national team walked out of the tunnel to the applause of more than 12,000 spectators. The opponent was the reigning world champion - the United States. I stood in the commentary area, looked down at the pitch, and remembered 2026 when I founded my first YouTube channel in Nha Trang to broadcast the national women's championship. Back then, a match only got 2,347 views. Now, the whole world was watching them.

The Vietnamese women's team arrived at the 2026 World Cup as one of the weakest teams in the tournament. They were placed in Group E alongside the USA, the Netherlands, and Portugal - three teams of completely different caliber. But to me, the scoreline was not what mattered. What mattered was that they were there. For the first time in history, Vietnamese women's football had reached the biggest stage on the planet.

The journey of the Vietnamese women's team to the World Cup is a story of perseverance overcoming every limit - both on the pitch and in society.

I had followed them from the very beginning. In 2026, at the SEA Games in the Philippines, I witnessed Huynh Nhu score the decisive goal against Thailand in the final. She ran toward the stands, tears streaming down her face. The stands erupted. But few knew that to reach that moment, Huynh Nhu had to overcome years of training in inadequate conditions - substandard training grounds, low salaries, and skepticism from those around her.

At the 2026 World Cup, the Vietnamese women's team had no victories. They lost to the USA 0-3, to Portugal 0-2, and to the Netherlands 0-7. But I don't want to talk about those scores. I want to talk about what happened in the locker room - the place where I've spent years listening to stories that have never been told.

Behind the locker room door, there are stories that have never been told.

I remember my online interview with Chuong Thi Kieu during the COVID-19 pandemic. She told me that her family had to sell their motorbike to support her football career. When I published that interview, the fan community raised 117.5 million VND for the "For Vietnamese Women Footballers" fund. It proved that when we listen, we can create change.

At the 2026 World Cup, I had the chance to talk with some players after the match against the USA. They didn't talk about the score. They talked about the feeling of standing on the world's biggest stage, of hearing the Vietnamese national anthem at a World Cup. In their eyes, I saw pride - not because they won or lost, but because they dared to dream and dared to fulfill that dream.

The stadium was empty, but the voices from the locker room never stopped echoing.

Huynh Nhu, at 32, made a bold decision: leaving Vietnam to play in Portugal for Länk FC Vilaverdense. It was the first time a Vietnamese female player went abroad. She represented not just herself, but a generation of Vietnamese female players yearning for recognition. When I asked her about this decision, she simply said: "If I don't go, no one will. And if no one goes, we will forever be left behind."

Looking back at the journey of the Vietnamese women's team, I realize that their success lies not in statistical numbers. It lies in the shift in how society views women in sports. When the Vietnamese women's team stepped onto the pitch at the World Cup, they carried not just 23 players. They carried the dreams of millions of Vietnamese girls - girls training in inadequate conditions, girls being doubted about their abilities, girls waiting for the day they can stand on the big stage.

When there is no audience, we truly listen to athletes.

I went to Russia for the 2026 World Cup and asked the question "Where are the women?". That year, there were no female referees at the tournament. I predicted it would take four more years. When Stéphanie Frappart officiated at Qatar 2026, that analysis was shared thousands of times. But at the 2026 World Cup, I no longer needed to ask that question. Women were there - on the pitch, as referees, as coaches, and as storytellers.

The Vietnamese women's team may have lost on the scoreboard, but they won in spirit. They proved that Vietnamese women's football not only exists but can grow. They opened the door for the next generation - girls who will no longer face the skepticism that Huynh Nhu's generation faced.

But the question is: after the World Cup, what will happen? Will we continue to invest in women's football or return to indifference? I have witnessed too many times short-lived successes being forgotten. I hope this time will be different.

Voices from the locker room - that is what I always listen to. And that voice is telling me that Vietnamese women's football stands at a crossroads. We can choose to continue treating them as outsiders, or we can choose to invest in them seriously - not just financially, but also in facilities, youth development, and respect.

I remember once I made a mistake by mispronouncing a player's name. I publicly corrected it and learned from that mistake. The Vietnamese women's team is the same. They made mistakes at the World Cup - not because they lost, but because they lacked experience to compete at the highest level. But they learned valuable lessons. And I believe that with proper investment, they will come back stronger.

In Nha Trang that year, I didn't just open a channel - I opened a door.

That door led me to stories never told - stories of sacrifice, of passion, of sisterhood in the locker room. And now, that door has led me to the World Cup, where I witnessed Vietnamese women writing history.

They may not have won on the pitch, but they won the hearts of millions of fans. They proved that no dream is too far-fetched, no ambition too big. And when I watched them stand on the world stage, I knew their story would not end here.

The Vietnamese women's team has opened a new chapter for Vietnamese women's football. The remaining question is: how will we write that chapter?