It was a late autumn afternoon, while the waves of the Mediterranean lapped the docks of Marseille where I live, when the phone rang like the warning whistle of fate. "Hanoi FC has lost, my friend," said a fellow reporter in Vietnam, his voice trembling. I was silent, staring out the window where ships loaded with migrant dreams left the shores of Asia. Suddenly, a sentence I had written years ago came back to me: "I thought I was writing about goals — but in fact what I was chasing was real people."

The Thong Nhat stadium was awash in the red jerseys of Cong An TPHCM fans. The LPBank V-League 2026-2027 season had just kicked off, but the first fixture at Thong Nhat was already defined as a harsh test for the team nicknamed the "dark horse" of the city bearing Uncle Ho’s name. Their opponents were Hanoi FC – the most successful club in Vietnamese football history, a side accustomed to dominating possession and pressing with authority. Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Lach Tray stadium echoed with the shouts of Hai Phong fans, a club that had always made life difficult for any visitor. Yet Ninh Binh brought a strange composure. Some called them "newcomers," but which newcomer could control the game and convert chances so cold-bloodedly?

Round one: the opening round, the round of promise and turbulence. I followed both matches on a small screen in an obscure corner of Marseille, not with my eyes but through the vibration of the people on the touchline.

Back to Thong Nhat: Cong An TPHCM entered the match against Hanoi FC with a deep and disciplined formation. They did not push forward recklessly. It was clearly a pre-planned scheme: low-block defence, patience, and an explosive counter-attack. Hanoi FC dominated possession but lacked a penetrating final pass. The goal came as a clean cut: Tien Linh — the veteran striker of the home team — slipped behind the defenders to meet a raking pass. One touch, one shot: simple, but enough to break the visitors’ resistance.

The stadium erupted in the joy of the underdog. But that goal was merely the start of a bigger statement. Even after conceding, Hanoi FC kept possession, probing for an opening. In the 52nd minute, the second shock arrived: from a quick goal-kick by the Cong An goalkeeper, the ball bypassed Hanoi’s entire midfield. The No.10 midfielder, arriving from deep, settled the ball at the edge of the box and fired a low shot into the far corner. It was a goal born of an idea, not sheer force. Hanoi briefly pulled one back with a header from a set piece, but in the end it was Cong An who sealed a 3-1 victory with another rapid counter-attack.

At Lach Tray, a nightmare named Ninh Binh unfolded. Hai Phong started with enthusiasm and took the lead, but Ninh Binh remained patient. In the second half they pressed high and exploited the home side’s vulnerable defence. Vinicius, the No.99 striker, scored a hat-trick in the 51st, 73rd and 90+1st minutes. The first goal was a neat turn and finish; the second was an audacious back-heel in the box; the third, in stoppage time, sealed a 4-1 victory. Watching Vinicius jog, I was reminded of a boy I had once filmed for 47 seconds on a Marseille beach – a talent born from hardship. Vinicius of Ninh Binh, however, is a fairy tale written in numbers: three goals, one victory. His striker’s instinct and cold-blooded finishing are the materials of a true star.

Yet after two rounds of football, I remind myself not to get swept away. Football is a long river, and one match – even an opening two matches – never provides a complete portrait of a season. Cong An TPHCM’s counter-attacking style is clear, but what happens when they face opponents who sit deep? What about physical decay and paperwork? As for Ninh Binh, scoring four goals at Lach Tray is a dream debut, but Hai Phong are known as a side that thrives on spirit. That second-half collapse could stem from a fitness issue or psychological fragility.

I have lived through two decades of football in France and Europe. In Ligue 1, teams like Clermont or Lens lack star mainstays, but they have a system that creates surprises. Without long-term defensive solidity and swift transitions, their early-season gusts vanish. Vietnamese fans should not forget the lessons of European football when judging Cong An and Ninh Binh after one round.

However, emotional atmosphere is important. When a small club beats a traditional giant, or a newcomer scores a hat-trick, we see football’s promise of justice. My friend, a veteran journalist, often says: ‘Do not call me nostalgic, for I have seen miracles at the World Cup on Russian soil, where Antoine Griezmann turned away without a shout, leaving the story to speak for itself.’ Nothing compares to watching real people write their own stories with sweat.

Silence, no ball rolling, time scoring on its own — that phrase has haunted me since my early days. In a transfer-heavy season, clubs spend fortunes on names, but victory rarely lives in the pocket. It comes from a moment of understanding, from a coach’s half-time adjustment, and from a striker’s natural habit of being in the right place. Cong An TPHCM and Ninh Binh have proven that at the beginning of any season, nothing is written in stone.

I look at the data. There are no expected goals (xG) or pressing numbers – modern statistics that journalists often rely on. But football is more complex than numbers. A goal from a goalkeeper’s long kick teaches us that football does not need endless short passes; it needs space and courage.

The details stay with me: after the second goal for Cong An, the scorer did not shout. He turned to the stands as if searching for someone. Those silent moments tell more than any comment.

The biggest question now is whether these wins signify a real shift in the standings or merely a blink of luck. In domestic leagues, most favourites lose their crown not to a single loss but to the attrition of a long season. The real contenders – teams with squad depth and staying power – are likely still running silently.

Hanoi FC are not weak; they have historically recovered from early setbacks. Hai Phong need to reflect on their inability to protect a lead. For romantics, these underdog tales are irresistible. But life and sport do not end in one afternoon. There are still hundreds of minutes, hundreds of thousands of touches, and endless drops of sweat. Sport’s beauty lies in its unpredictability. At 44, I understand that sport does not end with the final whistle – it rolls inside the human heart. And the story of Cong An TPHCM, Ninh Binh, and all the surprises of the 2026-2027 season is only beginning. A silent goal is worth more than a hundred minutes of shouting; a humble victory leaves a bitter aftertaste to the giants. Let time draw the conclusion. The season is a marathon, not a sprint. With the belief of someone who has followed sport since the age of information, I am ready to watch the next performances, where smiles will fade and true faces will emerge.

This article reflects the personal views of Hoang Thanh, a Vietnamese journalist based in France.