Vietnam's golden generation of table tennis stands at a major crossroads

The training hall in Cau Giay district is quiet on a Monday morning. Only the steady sound of balls bouncing on wooden surfaces breaks the silence, mixed with the heavy breathing of young people honing each spin shot. This is an image I have witnessed throughout two decades of following Vietnamese table tennis, and it has never changed — except for one thing: the number of practitioners training together is gradually declining. Since joining the sports journalism industry in 2026, I have witnessed several generations of athletes. The first generation I wrote about were the elders, who competed during the subsidized economy era, when wooden rackets were the only tools and training spaces were cramped rooms. Then came the second generation — younger faces, beginning to approach international competitions and bringing home Vietnam's first medals from continental arenas. And now, the third generation stands before a question that even I, at 41 years old, have not found a complete answer to: Can Vietnamese table tennis reach the world stage, or will it forever remain a niche sport? Last week, I had the opportunity to speak with a veteran coach in Hanoi, who has guided multiple generations of athletes. He shared that ten years ago, each morning training session could gather thirty to forty young children. Now, that number has dropped to around fifteen. "It's not that children don't like table tennis," he said, his voice as hollow as the echo from the empty training hall. "It's that table tennis no longer offers enough appeal in a world where they have far too many other entertainment options." That assessment is one I cannot refute. While following international tournaments, I realized that Vietnam's table tennis development is facing three major challenges. First is the infrastructure issue. While countries like Japan, China, and Taiwan have invested in building modern training center systems with serving robots, Vietnam is still struggling with deteriorating tables at local sports centers. Second is the expertise issue. Inviting highly qualified foreign coaches to work in Vietnam still faces many barriers regarding procedures and funding. Third, and perhaps most importantly, is the psychological aspect of international competition. I still remember a match at the Southeast Asian Championship three years ago. A young Vietnamese athlete, only eighteen at the time, had played excellently throughout the first four games against an opponent from Thailand. But in the fifth game, when the score was balanced and the stands grew noisier, the young man made three consecutive errors returning the ball out of bounds. In the end, he lost 3-2. After the match, I asked him about that moment. He simply said quietly: "I'm not used to competing in front of so many spectators." That answer, I believe, reflects the situation of an entire generation. However, alongside concerns, there are also encouraging signals. This year, a young female athlete from Ho Chi Minh City made a strong impression at the Asian Youth Championships, reaching the quarterfinals of the women's singles — Vietnam's best result in ten years. She has an aggressive playing style with powerful forehand smashes and agile footwork. Notably, she was trained at a private club under the guidance of a Japanese coach, a model that experts are considering expanding. In my view, this could be the right direction. Instead of concentrating all resources on the traditional state sports system, Vietnam could experiment with a model combining private club training and state support for infrastructure and expertise. This is the approach Taiwan implemented two decades ago, resulting in an entire generation of athletes capable of competing at the world level. Returning to the training hall in Cau Giay, as I prepared to leave, a boy of about ten was practicing spin serves with remarkable concentration. I paused for a moment, watching how he adjusted his racket angle after each failure. Those eyes, I realized, were no different from the eyes of those who came before him that I had written about. The deep forest does not need singing, only a silent bite. Perhaps Vietnam's golden generation of table tennis is not disappearing, but waiting for a new wind to blow at the right moment.