Vietnamese football is gambling its future with short-term contracts

Vietnamese football is gambling its future with short-term contracts

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Opening: An empty contract on the negotiating table

I once witnessed a transfer deal collapse in six hours, before the world could even turn on its phones. But the moment I remember most isn't when the contract died—it's when people realized it had never truly been alive. In V-League, this happens every week, only nobody writes an obituary for it.

The 2026-2026 season sees Vietnamese football entering what I call the "era of short-term contracts"—a phenomenon that isn't new but is becoming the norm to a dangerous degree. Clubs across V-League, from Hanoi FC to Cong An Ha Noi, from Thanh Hoa to Hai Phong, all operate on the logic of signing short, keeping short, living short. This isn't a strategy. This is an admission that people no longer know what they're trying to build.

Every contract is a potential corpse, needing only one dishonest tax clause. But in V-League, contracts don't die because of taxes. They die because of a lack of vision.

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Context: The fragile financial structure of V-League

To understand why short-term contracts have become the norm, you need to look at the financial structure of Vietnamese clubs. Unlike major European leagues, where broadcasting revenue accounts for 40-60% of total income, V-League clubs depend primarily on sponsorship budgets and parent companies. According to industry estimates, broadcasting revenue in V-League accounts for only about 15-20% of a mid-table club's total income.

This creates a paradox: clubs have money to buy players but lack the stable cash flow to keep them. The result is a rapid recruitment cycle. A player might wear three different club shirts in four years, not because he's so good he's being hunted, but because no one wants to commit long-term to an asset that could depreciate at any moment.

In China, where I'm currently working, I witnessed a similar phase around 2026-2026, when Chinese Super League clubs recruited foreign players with enormous salaries but only signed short-term contracts to avoid financial risk. The result was a transfer market full of instability, where player values were manipulated by a "go big or go home" mentality. Vietnamese football is treading the same path, only on a smaller scale and at a slower pace.

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Core analysis: The logic behind short-term contracts

1. Financial risk and defensive mentality

V-League clubs sign short-term contracts mainly for two reasons. First, they lack the financial capacity for long-term commitments. A three-year contract at 500 million VND per month could cost 18 billion VND over three years—a sum many clubs cannot guarantee will be in their budget. Second, they fear risk. If a player gets injured or loses form, a long-term contract becomes a burden. Short-term contracts allow clubs to cut losses quickly.

But this logic has a serious blind spot: it assumes risk only comes from the player's side. In reality, the greatest risk comes from the club itself. When a club doesn't commit long-term, neither does the player. The result is a squad lacking cohesion, identity, and motivation to play for the club's colors. This is precisely why many V-League clubs have quality squads but cannot maintain consistent performance across multiple seasons.

2. The role of agents and the intermediary market

In V-League, the role of player agents remains underdeveloped. Many players negotiate their own contracts or go through acquaintances, leading to unprofessional terms that don't protect the interests of either party. Meanwhile, clubs also lack dedicated legal teams to handle contracts, making the negotiation process slow and prone to disputes.

I've said before: "The transfer market operates on silence, not on shouting. The one who knows how to listen wins." In V-League, that silence is often a sign of instability. When a club goes silent about a player's future, it's not a negotiation tactic—it's a sign they have no plan.

3. Impact on young player development

Short-term contracts also seriously affect young player development. When a 20-year-old signs a one-year contract, he knows he has only 12 months to prove himself. This creates enormous psychological pressure, causing young players to prioritize short-term results over long-term skill development. They'll choose safe play, avoid risks, and won't dare experiment with new positions.

Modern football doesn't belong to players—it belongs to whoever reads the balance sheet fastest. But in V-League, the balance sheet usually has no line item for investing in young players.

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Contrarian angle: Short-term contracts aren't a solution—they're a symptom

Many will argue that short-term contracts are how V-League clubs manage risk in an unstable financial environment. This is partly true, but it overlooks a crucial reality: short-term contracts don't solve problems—they only postpone them.

When a club signs a one-year deal with a player, they're saying: "We don't believe in our own future." This sends a negative signal to the entire squad, to sponsors, and to fans. It creates a culture of non-commitment, where everyone lives in a state of temporariness.

The most dangerous thing isn't a bad contract—it's a contract that makes you believe it's so good you don't need to check it. In V-League, short-term contracts are becoming exactly that kind of deal—people accept them because they're "safe," without realizing that this safety is killing the league's potential for growth.

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Takeaway: What's the next domino?

Vietnamese football stands at a crossroads. If it continues with the short-term contract model, the league will maintain short-term financial stability but lose the opportunity to build identity and develop long-term. If it shifts to longer-term contracts, clubs will face greater financial risk but will have the opportunity to build cohesive squads and develop young players.

The question is: Do V-League clubs have the courage to bet on the future, or will they continue living in the safety of the present? The answer will determine where Vietnamese football goes in the next decade.

I don't speak until I see the ink dry. But I've seen too many contracts die before the ink could set. And each time, I remember that moment in Moscow in 2026, when a phone call changed the fate of a 60-million-euro deal. In V-League, such calls happen every day—only nobody records them.

Vietnamese football needs a revolution in how it approaches contracts. But the revolution doesn't start with long-term deals. It starts with a change in mindset—from "survival" to "development," from "safety" to "investment," from "short-term" to "long-term." Only then will contracts truly live, instead of being potential corpses waiting to be exhumed.