The VFF Chairmanship and Nguyễn Đức Thụy's 600–1,000 Billion VND Programme

On 22 October, in Hanoi, the action programme of Nguyễn Đức Thụy's candidacy for the presidency of the Vietnam Football Federation (VFF) for the 2027–2031 term was published. I followed it on a livestream from a small flat in London, the audio running nearly two seconds behind the picture. What made me stop was not the two figures, 600 and 1,000 billion VND. It was the silence right after they were read out, and the fact that nobody asked what should have been obvious: what is the federation's current revenue?

I wrote that question in my notebook, beside pages of notes on matches. A financial programme that does not publish a starting point cannot be measured as a doubling or a tenfold increase. Supporters may not need that figure. Delegates who vote do, because they are being asked to hand over a chair in exchange for a promise.

Three candidates, two banks, one chair

The VFF congress for the 2027–2031 term has three candidates. Trần Quốc Tuấn, born 2026, is the incumbent chairman seeking another term. Nguyễn Đức Thụy, born 2026, is Standing Deputy Chairman of Sacombank's board and holds no office in the current VFF executive. Nguyễn Xuân Vũ, born 2026, is the sitting VFF Vice Chairman and simultaneously a Sacombank Deputy Chairman.

I read that list of profiles three times before the notable detail surfaced. Two of the three candidates are senior executives of the same bank, and one of those two already sits inside the executive. The race is presented as an equilateral triangle, but the real axis of power has only two ends: the incumbent and the financial bloc.

Thụy stands outside the machine. That is both his greatest asset and his largest gap. Holding no office means no record from the previous term to be cross-examined; it also means no internal voting network. In thirteen years of watching Vietnamese football from a distance, I have learned that federation congresses are rarely decided by action programmes. They are decided by phone calls nobody minutes.

The financial pillar: revenue first, redistribution second, state budget zero

The loudest part of the programme is the target of raising 600–1,000 billion VND a year from sponsorship, business cooperation, broadcasting rights, digital content and football services. At roughly 26,000 VND to the dollar, that is USD 23–39 million annually. From 2027 the VFF is to be 100 percent self-financed with no state budget; the roughly 80 billion VND currently allocated each year would be redirected to sports capable of winning ASIAD and Olympic medals.

The quietest part is the most concrete: the support packages flowing down the pyramid. Each qualified local football federation receives 2–3 billion VND a year. Each V.League club receives 3 billion VND a season. Each first-division club and each women's club receives 2 billion VND a season.

I tried an arithmetic the programme itself does not perform. With roughly 14 V.League clubs, about 12 first-division clubs, around 8 women's teams and 20–30 qualified local federations, the annual distribution commitment lands near 150–200 billion VND. Against the 600 billion floor, that is 25–33 percent of revenue that does not yet exist. Against the 1,000 billion ceiling, it is 15–20 percent. Put plainly: the programme promises to share a large slice of money it has not raised.

In compensation, the governance section is far sturdier than regional convention. Audit by one of the Big Four, supervision by member organisations, public disclosure of targets, progress and results; any delay must name its cause, its responsibility and its remedy. At Southeast Asian federation level, binding yourself to such a disclosure mechanism is rare. It converts a campaign promise into a future accounting event.

The international section also carries measurable indices: hiring foreign experts for youth training, coaches, referees, national teams, sports medicine and data; training more than 20 officials in foreign languages, governance and professional skills from 2027 onward; placing 5–10 Vietnamese in positions at AFF, AFC and FIFA by 2030; contesting the AFF chair, AFC vice-presidency and FIFA Council seats. The programme also mentions inviting top world clubs to Vietnam to play, exchange and train, and studying the feasibility of hosting continental and world tournaments.

The blind spot sits where nobody takes photographs

This is where I want to linger, because it runs against the way the story is being told.

In the summer of 2026 I wrote 5,000 words on how Antoine Griezmann broke Uruguay's defence with four off-ball runs in a World Cup quarter-final. The piece drew 12 reads. Readers cared only about the 2–0 scoreline. Thụy's programme will meet exactly that fate if the public remembers only the 1,000 billion figure and forgets the audit mechanism attached to it.

The strongest part of the programme is the least quoted part. Independent audit, published progress, named accountability for delay — those can be verified. The 600–1,000 billion band cannot. The gap between floor and ceiling reaches 3.3 times, a spread far too wide for a programme that has been genuinely costed. When a programme publishes a band that wide, it usually means it was drafted before sponsorship commitments were quantified.

The pitch never lies — only the narrator knows how to hide his loneliness behind every goal. A federation's revenue ledger behaves the same way: it does not lie, but it only speaks when someone agrees to publish the starting point.

Then there is concentration. Three names are given as programme backers: Phạm Nhật Vượng of Vingroup, Đỗ Quang Hiển of T&T, Đoàn Nguyên Đức of HAGL. In Vietnamese business circles those are the heaviest names available. And precisely for that reason, the 600–1,000 billion revenue line depends on a very small group rather than a diversified sponsorship base. The patron-funded federation model has produced governance instability at several Asian federations when a handful of key sponsors withdrew.

And there is a gap that a programme detailed to the point of excess does not mention once: conflict of interest. Two of three candidates lead the same bank; the core funding comes from a group of individually named businessmen. No recusal mechanism, no procurement rules, no sponsor-independence principle. That silence, inside a document dense with transparency commitments, is hard to read as accidental.

Giving up the 80 billion VND of state budget is a deft political move. It draws a clear line against the incumbent and buys goodwill from regulators and from Olympic-sport stakeholders alike. Financially, though, it erases a stable and predictable revenue line in exchange for volatile commercial income. Redirecting that 80 billion also requires the agreement of the sports authority, so it is properly a proposal, not a decision the federation can make alone.

Tactics are prose, moments are poetry — and the match is where the two swallow each other. Here, the prose is the audit mechanism and the club support packages; the poetry is the 1,000 billion figure. The electorate at this congress will vote for the poem, but four years later they will have to live with the prose.

What stays afterwards

When the stands fall silent, we hear the heart of this sport beating with the longing of millions. At a federation congress, silence is not longing. It is the space a governance mechanism should have filled.

I do not know whether Thụy wins. I know one thing: if this programme passes without three conditions — publication of the VFF's current revenue, conversion of verbal sponsor support into multi-year contracts held by the federation, and a conflict-of-interest policy issued before the vote — then the 1,000 billion figure will be the first thing forgotten, and the first thing held against him.

There are talents that never appear in a ranking — they hide in the eyes of those who believe in what has not yet happened. Here, that talent is an independent audit mechanism, a public progress commitment, a conflict-of-interest rule. Nobody applauds them. But they are the part that will remain once the term is over.