The night the country watches football
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At about seven in the evening, the chairs outside a hundred cafes turn to face the same direction. Screens come out onto the pavement, plastic stools fill up, and a street that was traffic becomes an audience.
A Vietnam match is the closest thing the country has to a national pause.
What are people actually watching?
Three things, in this order of intensity.
| Competition | Who plays | How big |
|---|---|---|
| National team | Vietnam, in qualifiers and regional finals | The whole country stops |
| Southeast Asian championship | Vietnam against Thailand, Indonesia | Enormous, especially the final |
| V.League 1 | Domestic clubs, spring to autumn | Strong in the provincial cities |
| European leagues | The Premier League above all | Late-night, and widely followed |
The regional rivalry is the part visitors underestimate. A qualifier against Thailand carries more weight in a Hanoi street than a Champions League final, and the bia hoi tables sell out for it.
How do you get into a stadium?
For a league match, walk up. Tickets run from about 50,000 to 150,000 dong, the gates sell on the day, and the atmosphere in a place like Hai Phong or Nam Dinh is a genuine one: drums, flags and a full end behind the goal. Kick-off is usually 18:00 or 19:15, after the heat.
A national team match is the opposite. Those sell online, they go in minutes, and resale is a market of its own. My Dinh stadium in Hanoi holds about 40,000 and could sell it several times over. If you are in the country when one falls, decide early or plan to watch from a pavement, which is not a consolation prize.
Where do you watch without a ticket?
Wherever there is a screen and a plastic stool, which is everywhere. Cafes put the television in the doorway and the seating on the pavement; bia hoi places do the same and sell beer by the litre while they do it.
Arrive an hour early for a big football match or you will stand. The coffee shop guide describes the ordinary version of the same pavement, and the street food around it keeps trading right through.
What happens if Vietnam wins?
Di bao — the victory ride. Within minutes of a big win, tens of thousands of motorbikes take to the road with flags, drums, pot lids and horns. City centres turn into a slow-moving parade that runs for 2 or 3 hours.
The parade is celebratory rather than aggressive, and it is genuinely chaotic traffic. Watch from a kerb, a balcony or a cafe. The motorbiking guide is the argument for not being on a bike in the middle of it, and the police close some central streets anyway.
Does it change anything practical?
For a couple of hours, yes. Restaurants and cafes are full, taxis and rides get slow, and a driver may well be watching the match on a phone propped on the dashboard.
Afterwards, if the result was good, the roads belong to the celebration. Plan an airport run around a big kick-off rather than through it, and the transport guide covers how tight those margins already are.
Can you play rather than watch?
Yes, and cheaply. Artificial five-a-side pitches — san bong — sit on the edge of every town and rent for roughly 200,000 to 400,000 dong an hour in the evening, floodlit until late.
Turning up alone works more often than it should: teams are usually a player short, and a foreigner who can pass gets adopted for the evening. It is the easiest social opening in the country, which the solo travel guide does not have many of.
Why does it hit this hard?
Because the results are recent. Vietnam's rise through the regional game happened within the memory of everybody now watching, and the country reacts like somewhere that still finds winning surprising. Football here is roughly where a European league town was fifty years ago: the club is the town, and the national team is everybody.
The closeness of club and town is what makes the pavement worth sitting on. The football itself may or may not be good; the street around it is the thing you came to see.
FAQ
Is football popular in Vietnam?
It is the national sport by a distance, and a men's national team match stops ordinary evening life. Cafes turn their screens outward, restaurants fill, and the streets afterwards belong to whoever won.
What is the domestic league?
V.League 1, running roughly from spring to autumn with a mid-season break, with clubs in Hanoi, Nam Dinh, Hai Phong, Thanh Hoa and elsewhere. Crowds are strongest in the northern port and provincial cities.
How do you get a ticket?
For a league game, at the stadium on the day for a small sum. For a national team match, online in advance and quickly, because those sell out and the resale prices climb.
Where do you watch if there is no ticket?
A pavement cafe or a bia hoi with a screen. Every one of them shows the match, chairs face the street, and the crowd outside is usually bigger than the one inside.
What is di bao?
The victory ride. After a big win, tens of thousands of motorbikes pour onto the streets with flags, horns and drums, circling the city centre for hours. It is loud, good-natured, and worth staying off the road for.
Is it safe to be out in a Vietnamese football celebration?
For a watcher on a pavement, yes. On a motorbike in the middle of it, less so — riding is erratic, and police close some streets. Watch from the kerb rather than joining the traffic.
Can you play?
Easily. Five-a-side pitches rent by the hour in every town, and groups look for players. Ask at any san bong, the artificial pitches lit up after work.