When the Analysis Report Only Contains Dashes: The Data Problem in Vietnamese Sports

One morning at a small editorial office in Hanoi, I received an international chess analysis document. Opening the file, what struck me first was not an impressive tactic or statistic, but countless “N/A” symbols scattered throughout the headings. Eight areas – from technical analysis, player data, tournament systems, competitive environment, regulations, risk, public narrative, to the spillover effects on the industry – all had no information. An empty report like that might seem useless, but to me, it was a powerful signal about the data deficiency plaguing not only world chess but also Vietnamese sports. In football, everyone knows that without numbers on playing time, distance covered, or pass completion rates, a coach is like a person walking in the dark. I once saw foreign sports experts watching a Vietnamese national team match; they carefully noted every move. But when asked, “How many kilometers did that player run?” they just shook their heads. No one had those figures. Vietnamese football still relies primarily on intuition and personal experience, and rarely on detailed metrics for tactics. That empty report inadvertently reflected a huge gap in the way we approach sports information. The analysis document seemed to be built on an ambitious structure. It resembled a detailed map with every corner marked, yet not a single human footprint had crossed it. Reading through the headings, I realized that if these sections were completed, we would have a panoramic view of a player or a tournament from many different angles. For instance, in “Technical Analysis,” the author provided criteria such as complexity, alignment with engine play, and stability in execution. Those are very modern tools. But unfortunately, no numbers were entered. This reminded me of many tactical meetings in Vietnamese sports clubs, where coaches often complain that they lack effective analytical equipment to monitor each athlete. Another section mentioned “Head-to-Head Record.” In chess, people often talk about a player’s weakness before a specific opponent. If we had data on the head-to-head history between Le Quang Liem and another top grandmaster, we would better understand how Liem handles each positional battle. But at present, many matches of Vietnamese players in international tournaments are not recorded systematically. Some games are known only through a few lines of commentary on news sites, then disappear from public view. Without archived data, how can a long-term strategy be built? That is a question that troubles me. The “Tournament System” section in the report is also a typical case. It asks to evaluate the strength of players, the scale of prize funds, the draw rate, or whether a tournament is attractive to spectators. All were left blank. This made me think about domestic chess tournaments. Vietnam has many talented players, but tournaments often lack professionalism in terms of media and data. I remember a youth tournament held in a small hall, where matches took place in rather silent atmosphere. Strangely, no camera was placed at the central board. After the event, people only knew the final results through a short article on the web. No analysis of the moves or tactical developments of the young players. Because of that, talented children may not receive the attention they deserve. The “Competitive Landscape” analysis in the document is also a useful framework. If we knew the current position of a player in the flow of generations, we could assess their potential to rise. But again, everything is a question mark. In Vietnam, the gap between young players and veterans can be observed through individual results, but it is hard to get a holistic view when there is no data on the number of registered athletes each year. Without financial resources to organize regular tournaments, without long-term investment in training centers, everything creates a stagnation that is difficult to see clearly. Regulations and governance – the fifth area – also contribute to the overall picture. A strong sports system needs transparent procedures, such as anti-cheating regulations. The analysis had a section on this issue but it also remained “insufficient information.” I wonder whether chess tournaments in Vietnam have adequate anti-cheating measures. Perhaps in amateur events, people have not yet anticipated risks such as using computer assistance. When regulatory issues are not clearly documented, risks accumulate silently. Next is “Risk Assessment.” A risk matrix in the report was designed to classify levels of psychological stress, competitive pressure, and financial issues. The idea is good, but without data, any assessment is impossible. In many sports, athletes are often left alone when they suffer injuries or burnout, because there is no continuous system to measure their physical condition. Vietnamese football has witnessed many talented young players whose careers were disrupted by injuries, partly due to a crowded schedule and a lack of data management. Again, the gap is not in willpower but in information infrastructure. The “Public Narrative” section in the report is also noteworthy. It analyzes the appeal of an athlete, the level of expectation from fans, and metrics on social media. Without such data, we cannot know who the most beloved star is, and why. In Vietnam, some high-achieving athletes are almost unknown in the media, while many people become famous only for rumors. This imbalance stems from the lack of dedicated teams that track and promote genuinely inspiring stories. If we had a measurement system, we could invest properly in representative figures. Not only in chess, but all other sports in Vietnam face similar problems. For example, in basketball, metrics such as shooting efficiency, individual defensive ability, and movement speed are only discussed vaguely. Perhaps because of that, player selection often relies more on coaches’ intuition than on a rich data set. That empty report is not an isolated incident; it reflects the general condition of Vietnamese sports. But from another perspective, an empty report can also be an opportunity. Realizing how much data we lack is the first step toward building a better foundation. I once visited a small sports center in a central province. The athletes there trained very hard, but they had no idea how fast they ran 100 meters compared with opponents in Asia, because there were no specialized measuring devices. They ran with the strength of their hearts and hope, but that is not enough in modern sports. There is a saying in analytics: “You cannot improve what you do not measure.” Without clear numbers, strategic planning becomes just empty theories. We can talk about determination and fighting spirit, but those factors are hard to quantify. A complete analysis with concrete numbers would help coaches see reality, help sports managers know where to invest, and help athletes evaluate themselves daily. There is a need for a data revolution in Vietnamese sports. First, tournaments should establish a standardized information storage system: recording match results, playing time, individual metrics, and even environmental conditions. Next, we need to train analysts who can process statistics and combine them with coaching expertise. Sponsors should also recognize that investing in data technology is an investment in long-term success. We do not necessarily have to buy expensive foreign equipment; we can start with free open-source software and creatively collect information from available sources. The chess analysis full of N/A symbols ultimately taught me a lesson. It is not a meaningless document, but a mirror reflecting the gaps in our sports information system. If we know how to listen to those gaps, if we are humble enough to admit we do not know enough, then we will have the motivation to seek and build a solid data foundation. Sports are not just bright moments of competition; they are also a silent process of preparation, where every small number can make a difference. For me, one day when analysis reports are fully filled in, Vietnamese sports will no longer have to grope in the darkness of dashes. Le Quang Liem, Vietnam’s number one chess player, once said that success comes from analyzing each game meticulously. But to analyze, we must have data. When everything is empty, that is not just the story of a document; it is the story of an entire sports system standing at a crossroads. Let us fill that void, starting today, not by boasting but by collecting, storing, and using data responsibly. The problem is difficult, but there is definitely a solution. And perhaps, one day we will no longer encounter such “all-dash” analysis reports in Vietnam.