VAR in the V.League: The Two-Minute Wait and the Expensive Price of Trust

In the 2026 season, I sat in the stands at Hang Day Stadium and witnessed a moment that made me open my notebook and write it down immediately. In the 78th minute, a Hanoi club player put the ball in the net. The whole stadium erupted. Then the referee put his hand to his earpiece. Two minutes and seventeen seconds later, the goal was disallowed for an offside earlier in the move. The stands fell silent. Not silent with anger, but silent with exhaustion.

I have followed football for nearly half a century, from local radio commentary stints in 2026 to sleepless nights watching English football. People call me reckless, but the numbers have never learned to lie. And the numbers are telling me something hard to hear: VAR in the V.League has not failed because of technology. It has failed because of time.

VAR was introduced to the V.League in the 2026 season, a step any football nation must take. Vietnam is not far behind the world. The Premier League only adopted full VAR from the 2026-20 season. But the gap between football nations is not in the start date; it is in how the system is run.

Vietnamese football is in a golden era. The national team won the 2026 AFF Cup under coach Park Hang-seo, reached the quarterfinals of the 2026 AFC Asian Cup, and the U23 side finished runners-up at the 2026 AFC U-23 Championship in Changzhou. The V.League draws among the highest stadium attendances in Southeast Asia, with some matches exceeding twenty thousand people. As the football grows, the pressure on referees grows with it.

I once wrote: "Home is no longer a fortress. The pandemic proved that." For the V.League, this is especially true. But that is the fans' story. The VAR story sits somewhere else.

The first problem is time. In modern football, a VAR check in the Premier League averages about 60 to 90 seconds for clear situations, rarely exceeding two minutes. In the V.League, from what I observed across many matches in the 2026 and 2026 seasons, checks routinely exceed two minutes, with some taking nearly four minutes for an offside. Four minutes is more than enough for a goal — the most primal emotion in football — to be smothered.

What is worth noting is that this problem is not in the machines. Semi-automated offside technology or camera systems can all be bought with money. What is missing is process. A properly trained VAR referee needs about two to three years of continuous practice on high-pressure matches. How many people in the V.League meet that bar? By the figures I have gathered, the number of VAR-licensed referees in Vietnam can be counted on the fingers of one hand, while each round has five to seven matches played at the same time.

It is simple arithmetic. Seven matches, a few VAR referees, and a standard that cannot be compromised. The result is slow decisions, prolonged arguments, and fan trust eroded round after round.

The second problem is economics. A V.League match lasts 90 minutes, but with VAR, the actual time can reach 100 to 105 minutes. For fans, that is fifteen extra minutes standing outside the stadium, fifteen extra minutes television must cut to commercials, fifteen extra minutes sponsors do not get the value they paid for. Vietnamese football needs money — from broadcasting rights, from sponsorship, from the fans. Slowing the match down is impoverishing itself.

I remember a conversation with a television man in Hanoi. He told me that every minute of broadcast beyond the scheduled window is money. Not the referee's money, not the club's money, but the whole football industry's money. When VAR stretches a match by fifteen minutes, what burns is not only time but the league's credibility in the eyes of sponsors.

The third problem, and the one I want to give the most ink to, is home advantage. "Home advantage is dead." I have said this many times, and the V.League is living proof. Before the pandemic, a V.League team playing at home typically took about 55 to 60 percent of the maximum points. After football returned with crowds, that figure across many Asian leagues dropped to about 50 to 52 percent. Home still has value, but it is no longer an impregnable fortress.

This matters for VAR for a subtle reason. When home is no longer frightening, teams are forced to seek advantage elsewhere — tactics, fitness, squad depth. VAR, if run correctly, can be a reliable equalizing tool. But if run badly, it becomes what every away fan suspects: a tool that accidentally favors the home team, or worse, the stronger team.

I have no evidence of bias. But I have eyes. And my eyes tell me that in those VAR-waiting moments, the V.League stands stop singing. They go quiet and wait. Vietnamese football is famous for its passionate stands, with tens of thousands singing. When VAR takes away the moment of eruption, it takes away part of the very soul of this football.

In 2026, I predicted that Liverpool's trio Mohamed Salah, Roberto Firmino and Sadio Mane would score at least 84 goals in all competitions. "The number 91 is not a lucky number; it is the destination of a plan." By season's end, they scored 91. The number did not come from magic. It came from a plan designed in meticulous detail. VAR is the same. No plan, no number. No number, no trust.

But I must be honest with myself here. "I was once wrong about the 2026 World Cup. And it is the most expensive lesson I have." I once thought Croatia could not reach the final, and I was completely wrong. I could also be wrong about VAR in the V.League.

The counter-view is this: perhaps VAR is not the problem. Perhaps the problem is that we are using VAR to cover a bigger disease — inconsistency in how refereeing is run. If a referee does not dare make a decision on the pitch, VAR becomes a crutch, and that crutch only weakens the leg further. In the Premier League, people argue about VAR all day, but the refereeing foundation there is strong enough to stand. In the V.League, that foundation is still thin.

The key point I want Vietnamese football people to hear is this: VAR is only a mirror reflecting referee quality. If the mirror shows something ugly, we should not smash the mirror. We should ask why the image in the mirror is not yet beautiful, then fix the root — people, process, training.

After nearly fifty years writing about football, I have learned one thing: data does not kill emotion. It gives emotion a frame. VAR, done right, is the same. It does not take away the joy of a goal. It only ensures that joy is real.

Vietnamese football is at a crossroads. VAR is an opportunity, not a burden — if we invest in people before investing in machines. "Football waits for no one. It only waits for those who dare to ask questions." The question is not whether to keep VAR, but when the V.League will have enough VAR referees for a check to take only ninety seconds. When the answer is "enough," Vietnamese football will turn a new page. And I, at sixty-five, will still be in the stands, notebook in hand, waiting for that moment.