Doan Van Hau kisses wife in coronation ceremony: CAHN wins 2026-2026 National Super Cup with 5-0 victory

There are moments that one does not need to rewatch to remember. The moment Doan Van Hau ran toward the stands, lifted his wife in his arms and kissed her amid the roar of thousands of CAHN supporters at Hang Day Stadium is one of them. Minutes earlier, the referee had blown the final whistle, closing the 2026-2026 National Super Cup final with a 5-0 scoreline in favor of Cong An Ha Noi over Cong An TP.HCM. But for me, the match truly ended long before that — from the way CA TP.HCM's defense retreated like a symphony with broken strings, and from the way those players who had just returned from the ASEAN Cup defense campaign still ran tirelessly on the Hang Day pitch. The context of this match is more special than any Super Cup in Vietnamese football history. Just days earlier, the national team players — including Doan Van Hau, Quang Hai, Dinh Bac — had just successfully defended the ASEAN Cup title with the Vietnam national team. They barely had time to rest, rushing from the airport to the training ground, then entering the Super Cup final as V.League champions. Their opponent, CA TP.HCM, arrived as the National Cup champions — a younger team, thinner in squad depth, but not lacking in desire. I have followed Vietnamese football for nearly two decades, and I can say that rarely have I seen a team display such complete dominance as CAHN did in this match. Not because of the 5-0 scoreline — the scoreline is merely a consequence — but because of the way they controlled the tempo of the match. From the opening minutes, CAHN's midfield, with the mobility of Quang Hai, completely suffocated CA TP.HCM's midfield. Every pass from the away team was intercepted before reaching its destination, every attack was broken at its inception. This was not a match, but a performance — a concerto conducted solely by CAHN. But what truly made me think was not the victory, but the price paid for it. Look at the schedule: the national team players had just endured a grueling ASEAN Cup campaign, traveling constantly between Southeast Asian nations, playing at the highest intensity, then returning within days to play a domestic cup final. This is a issue I have raised multiple times in my writings: the scheduling overlap between the national team and club football. VFF and V.League need to sit down together to address this problem, not only for the health of the players, but also for the quality of the league itself. Tactically, this victory shows something clear: Alexandre Polking has built a system so smooth that it can operate even when key players have just returned from international duty. This is a sign of a coach who truly understands his team. Polking does not try to impose a foreign philosophy on his players; he builds the system around the people he has. The result is two Super Cup titles in his hands — an achievement that not many coaches in the V.League can boast. However, I want to look at a hidden corner that few mention in this victory: CA TP.HCM's failure is not just a defeat, but a warning bell about the imbalance of power in Vietnamese football. When a team backed by the Ministry of Public Security like CAHN can assemble nearly all the national team's core players in its squad, while other teams struggle with tight budgets, the gap will only widen. I am not saying CAHN is doing anything wrong — they are simply doing what is within their capacity — but I am concerned for the competitiveness of the league. A league dominated by a single team will soon become boring, and boredom will kill audience interest. Returning to the moment Doan Van Hau kissed his wife. I have witnessed many players celebrating victories in my career — some rolling on the pitch, some crying uncontrollably, some running around the field like children. But Van Hau's moment had a difference: it was not for the audience, not for the cameras, but for one person only. His wife, who was by his side during his injury days, during the days he sat out due to injuries, during the days he struggled to find his form again. She was there, in both the glorious moments and the darkest moments of his career. And when he lifted the trophy, he sought her out first. That is a story of patience, of love, of quiet sacrifice that not everyone can see. In a football world full of scandals, massive transfer contracts, and fierce competition, that moment reminds us that behind every player is a human being, and behind every human being are those who love them unconditionally. Dinh Bac, the rising young player of CAHN, also had a memorable moment when he was surrounded by female fans requesting photos after the match. The popularity of this young player is a positive signal for Vietnamese football — it shows that the new generation of players is not only skilled but also has media appeal. But it also raises a question: will early fame ruin a developing talent? I have seen too many cases of young players being swept away by the spotlight before they could establish themselves on the pitch. I hope Dinh Bac will keep his feet on the ground, because his talent is too precious to waste. Quang Hai, described as "always shining at important moments," once again proved why he is one of the most important players in Vietnamese football. He is not always the scorer, but his presence on the pitch always makes a difference. He is the type of player coaches call a "big-game player" — one who performs best when the pressure is greatest. And with his track record, from the 2026 AFF Cup to the 2026 ASEAN Cup, Quang Hai has proven that this title is well deserved. Le Van Do, who lifted the cup with his girlfriend, is also a notable figure in this victory. Though not always called up to the national team, at club level he is an irreplaceable pillar. He is the type of player I call "the anchor" — not the helmsman, but the one who keeps the boat from drifting. In a team full of stars, players like Le Van Do are often undervalued, but they are the glue that holds the team together. As for CA TP.HCM, the 0-5 defeat is a shock. I could feel their disappointment through the TV screen. But I also want to say: do not rush to condemn this team. A defeat, no matter how heavy, is just a defeat. What matters is what they learn from it. If they use this defeat as motivation to improve, to invest in their squad, to rebuild their tactics, then this defeat will become a positive turning point. But if they let it drown their spirit, then that would be the real tragedy. I want to end this article with a question: are we witnessing the beginning of a dynasty, or just a fleeting moment of glory? CAHN has proven they are the strongest team in Vietnam currently, but football is a game of change. Other teams will learn, will invest, will find ways to close the gap. The question is: can CAHN maintain their dominance, or will they become victims of their own success? Only time will tell. But one thing is certain: this year's Super Cup final will be remembered not only for the 5-0 scoreline, but also for the moment a man sought out his woman amid a sea of cheering people, and kissed her as if no one else existed in the world. The match ended, but the poem remains unfinished.