Vietnamese Golf: From Practice Grounds to International Stage – Lessons from Slow Rhythms

Long Bien Golf Course, Hanoi, 6 AM in July. The humid air of the Northern summer covers the fairway with a thin layer of mist. I stand at hole 3, a par 4, watching a group of young golfers – all members of the national team – practicing their tee shots. The Korean coach, Mr. Park, stands behind a 17-year-old boy, adjusting his shoulder angle. No one speaks. Only the sound of the club swinging, the ball dropping, and the wind blowing through the rows of casuarina trees. In that moment, I remembered a phrase from an old colleague: "The recorded sound of wind still blows through me whenever the course is empty." But this course is not empty. It is filled with growing dreams. The context of Vietnamese golf is no longer a story of a foreign sport. According to data from the Vietnam Golf Association (VGA), by the end of 2026, the country has about 120 active golf courses, an increase of nearly 30% compared to 2026. The number of registered amateur golfers has exceeded 200,000, and this figure does not include golf tourists. But the most impressive number lies in the youth training system: more than 15 professional golf academies have opened in major cities, from Hanoi, Da Nang to Ho Chi Minh City. Among them, the academy of former national champion Nguyen Thao My in Da Nang has brought 5 young golfers into the national U18 team in just three years of operation. However, this development is not uniform. While major cities have good economic conditions, provinces in the Central Highlands and Central region still suffer from severe lack of facilities. I once visited a 9-hole golf course in Gia Lai – where the fairway was cut with old machines, the green was flat but not up to international standards. But what impressed me was not the facilities, but the spirit of the children there. They practiced with old clubs, worn-out balls, but each shot contained absolute focus. A name sung by the whole stand becomes the address of the heart – but here, no stand has sung their names yet. Only the wind and the sound of clubs echoing. In terms of tactics, modern golf requires more than just ball-striking technique. Data from international tournaments shows that top golfers like Scottie Scheffler or Rory McIlroy are not only strong in driving distance, but also excel in ball control from 100-150 yards. According to PGA Tour statistics for the 2026-2026 season, Scheffler averaged 1.85 Strokes Gained: Approach per round – the highest figure in tour history. This means that, instead of focusing only on power, young Vietnamese golfers need to develop precise ball-striking skills from all distances. But at academies in Vietnam, I notice a misalignment: most practice time is spent on driving and putting, while approach skills – which determine scoring – are neglected. In 2026, I realized that the second stand has no seats but has real people. That was when I followed the national amateur golf tournament at Da Lat course. There was no stand, no live television, but hundreds of local residents stood along the fairway, watching every shot. They did not understand golf rules, but they understood effort. An elderly farmer told me: "I don't know what they're playing, but seeing them so patient, I feel like they're like me when planting rice." That statement made me think about how we build golf culture in Vietnam. We are focusing too much on bringing golf to the international stage, forgetting that the foundation of this sport lies in patience and discipline – values that Vietnamese people already possess. A team is not only led by tactics, but by the names people call each other. In golf, this is also true. I once witnessed an American coach in Ho Chi Minh City calling each student by their first name, asking about their personal lives before starting the practice session. The result was that those students improved much faster than the group trained with purely technical methods. This is not coincidental. Sports psychology research shows that when athletes feel respected and connected to their coach, they tend to be 40% more persistent in overcoming difficulties. In Vietnam, where collective culture is still strong, building relationships between coaches and students could be the key to sustainable talent development. But there is a counterintuitive perspective I want to raise: the rapid development of Vietnamese golf may be creating a generation of golfers who are "old before their time." When I watch national youth tournaments, I see many 15-16 year olds playing in a very "Western" style – long drives, confident putting, but lacking flexibility in handling situations. They learn from online videos, imitating the techniques of international stars, but do not understand why those techniques work. As a result, when facing different course conditions – like strong winds in the Central region or complex sloping greens in Da Lat – they easily lose strokes. Meanwhile, young golfers from countries like Japan or Korea are usually trained systematically from a young age, with emphasis on course reading and game management. There are recordings we never release, because they are the soul of the course. I remember an afternoon at Vinpearl Nha Trang golf course, when I recorded the sound of sea wind blowing through the fairway of hole 7. There was no golfer on the course, only me and an old security guard. He told me that he used to be a caddie for a Korean group, and they taught him how to read wind direction by observing the grass tips. "Vietnamese people can learn that," he said. "It's just that we haven't had many opportunities." His story made me realize that golf is not just a sport for the elite – it can be a sport of observation and patience, qualities that Vietnamese people have long possessed. In the transfer rhythm, everyone looks at the clock, but I listen to the sound of departing footsteps. In golf, the "transfer" is not players, but coaches and experts. Many talented young Vietnamese golfers have been recruited by foreign academies, but not all succeed. I know a case: a 19-year-old golfer from Da Nang received a full scholarship to an academy in the US, but after two years, he dropped out because he could not handle the pressure and loneliness. He returned to Vietnam and opened a small golf equipment store. When I met him again, he said: "I thought golf was about technique, but it turns out it's about spirit. In America, I had no one to share with." This story shows that sending young golfers abroad is not always the best solution. We need to build a support ecosystem for mental well-being right here in Vietnam. The new generation watches the ball with their eyes, I still listen with my ears, and both are ways of loving. In golf, this is reflected in how we approach the sport. The young Vietnamese generation watches golf through YouTube, TikTok, learning from famous golfers. They love golf with their eyes – through beautiful images, impressive shots. But I, with 37 years of following sports, love golf with my ears – through the sound of clubs swinging, balls dropping, wind blowing, and fans cheering. Both ways are worthy of respect, but I believe that for sustainable development, we need to combine both: creating attractive images to attract the youth, while preserving the deep emotional values of the sport. An empty course, the wind still keeps the rhythm for the ball. I have witnessed many Vietnamese golf courses abandoned during economic difficulties, but the wind still blows, the grass still grows, and golf lovers still come. That gives me hope. Vietnamese golf does not need to rush. We do not need to have a top-100 world golfer immediately. We need to build a solid foundation: from youth training systems, to golf culture in the community, to mental support for golfers. If we do that, international success will come naturally. Looking back at the development journey of Vietnamese golf, I see a colorful picture: bright colors of rapid development, but also dark patches of inconsistency. However, what makes me most optimistic is the spirit of those working in golf in Vietnam – from dedicated coaches, to passionate young golfers, to local residents who, despite not understanding the rules, still show respect for the sport. They are the "heartbeat" of Vietnamese golf. And as I often tell young colleagues: "Listen to that heartbeat, don't just look at the scoreboard."