When Pickleball Tape Covers Vietnam's Tennis Lines

I stood beside a tennis court in Ho Chi Minh City on a May morning. The white lines were fading beneath the yellow tape of a pickleball court. The hollow click of the plastic ball felt different from the deep thud of a tennis ball that I have listened to for three decades. People call it a trend, but I see it as a mirror reflecting what Vietnamese tennis has been missing. Nearby, young players were still working on their footwork on the clay court. Their technique looked solid, but none of them had a personal sponsor. The coach paid for balls and court time from his own pocket. I have witnessed that scene many times over the years, in many different countries. For years as a sports commentator, I have learned that every sport is a supply chain. Behind every athlete standing on an international court, there is a system. Professional tennis runs on four layers: training academies, a ladder of small tournaments, media rights, and sponsorship. When one layer is missing, the whole structure wobbles. The problem with Vietnamese tennis is not technique. Many young players I have met have good forehands, reliable serves and strong fitness. The problem is that they do not get enough competitive matches to grow. An 18-year-old needs roughly 60 to 80 official matches per year to truly improve. To get those matches, you need tournaments. To get tournaments, you need money. To get money, you need media exposure and sponsors. That circle keeps turning in strong tennis nations, but it is standing still in many other places, including Vietnam. One of the biggest mistakes Vietnamese tennis has made is believing that a star alone is enough. In tennis, star players do not create the next generation by playing well. They create the next generation when the system around them is strong enough to keep young talent in the sport. When the system is weak, the success of one individual often becomes the door that lets that individual leave. This is not unique to Vietnam. The story of sponsorship in tennis is more complicated than it looks. A brand that wants to link its name to a sport usually looks for values that the sport represents. Tennis has long been seen as an elegant, international and disciplined sport. But in the Vietnamese market, the gap between world-class tennis and local recreational tennis is huge. Sponsors do not see a clear pathway from local events to international competition, so they hesitate. They prefer sports with more obvious stories. Looking at countries like Thailand and India, I notice that they have built strong club-level competitions. Tennis clubs in Bangkok run tournaments all year round, with their own rankings and local fans. Young players compete constantly in a real competitive environment, get measured regularly, and receive sports medicine support early. When they step onto the international stage, they are not shocked by the pressure because they are used to it. Vietnamese tennis, by contrast, still focuses on seasonal recreational events with very few matches. The gap between junior events and professional tournaments is a deep chasm. A junior national champion may have no transition tournament for the next two months. Two months without competition is long enough to lose feel for the ball and to lose confidence. I have seen talented young players leave tennis because they could not find the path forward. If people think that bringing one international tournament to Vietnam is the breakthrough, I beg to differ. A big event brings spotlight, but it does not bring foundation. The foundation lies in every local tennis club having enough courts, enough balls, enough coaches and enough matches to keep young players engaged. When every province has a regular tournament, when every club has an internal ranking, when every practice session is filmed and analyzed, only then will Vietnamese tennis truly move in the right direction. Injury is another issue I want to emphasize. Modern tennis demands a very high level of fitness. Many young Vietnamese players train with great intensity but without an age-appropriate program. I have seen too many cases where a 16-year-old suffers a knee injury because of overtraining, then disappears from the sport a few years later. The rush in youth development is destroying the second phase of players' careers. The psychological fear of returning from injury is far harder to overcome than physical recovery. A healthy tennis system needs sports medicine experts from the beginning; it needs to monitor training loads and it needs to know when to stop. That cannot be done without stable financial resources. Where does that money come from? Partly from tournaments with media rights, partly from corporate sponsorship. But to have valuable media rights, you need an audience. To have an audience, you need stories that are told well enough. Vietnamese tennis stories exist, but they are hidden behind the shadow of underinvestment. I still believe these stories carry real weight: a girl who overcame dengue fever to return to the court, a young man who teaches lessons to pay for his own training, a coach who has stood at the practice court for forty years and never once appeared on television. These are the reasons I remain with this sport. Pickleball grows fast because it creates immediate value. A player can learn in thirty minutes, compete in one hour and connect with a community that same day. Tennis cannot do that. Tennis requires time, patience and larger resources. If Vietnamese tennis tries to imitate the speed of pickleball, it will fail. But if it sees what pickleball understands so well, the power of community and entertainment, it can find its own path. The greatest lesson from pickleball is probably flexibility. Pickleball courts appear in parking lots, rooftops and apartment corridors. It weaves into urban life. Tennis, meanwhile, is still tied to large courts on the outskirts of cities. If Vietnamese tennis clubs design short training programs, organize demonstration events near residential areas, and create welcoming social spaces, they can attract a new generation of players. The sport does not lack appeal; it simply lacks an approach that fits modern life. I also want to speak about fairness in allocating resources. In many countries, young players from wealthier families receive better investment, while underprivileged talents are left behind. That inequality is a major crack in the system. But I have seen many underprivileged talents succeed because they had a dedicated teacher behind them. If the system provides enough support, talents from remote areas can also rise. More than ever, Vietnamese tennis leaders need to sit down together. The federation needs to listen to the clubs. Clubs need to listen to coaches. Coaches need to listen to young players. Amid the sound of pickleball balls echoing through urban neighborhoods, Vietnamese tennis still has a chance that has not yet closed. That chance lies in patient investment in depth rather than chasing the spotlight. The court after the audience leaves is still there, and the quiet lives that keep the match breathing are still waiting to be recognized. Do we have the courage to listen to the breath of a generation of players before inviting them into the light?