Violence in V-League: When the referee shows a yellow card for a red-card offense

In the 15th minute at Hang Day Stadium, the ball was still rolling toward Dong Nai's goal when the situation suddenly turned into a mini brawl. Van Son, the away team's defender, elbowed Dinh Bac straight in the face — not an attempt to challenge for the ball, but a deliberate act of aggression. Referee Le Vu Linh showed a direct red card, a legally correct decision that nevertheless opened the door to a night of controversy about officiating standards in V-League. The match ended 3-0 in favor of Cong An Ha Noi, but the result was nearly overshadowed by what happened on the pitch. Just minutes after Van Son left the field, the second half witnessed a similar act of violence: Huynh Tan Sinh, Dong Nai's veteran center-back, repeatedly kicked Dinh Bac's leg while the player was shielding the ball outside the box. Instead of a red card, Tan Sinh received only a yellow card from the referee. The disparity between the two situations raises a big question: Is football law being applied consistently in V-League? The victory of Cong An Ha Noi over Dong Nai occurred in the context of the 2026-2026 V-League season kicking off with rising tension — not just from the points race, but also from a wave of on-field violence that shows no sign of cooling. Only two weeks earlier, Van Hau of Cong An Ha Noi was suspended for four matches and fined twenty million VND for stepping on Doan Ngoc Tan's leg in a second-round match. Now, Dong Nai's players have repeated a similar act. V-League seems trapped in a cycle of violence: each round brings another brutal foul, another suspension, another apology, and then repeats itself the following week. From a legal standpoint, Van Son's situation is a textbook case of violent conduct under FIFA Law 12. An elbow to the face, with no intention of playing the ball, with strong and dangerous force, clearly warrants a direct red card. Referee Le Vu Linh had a good view of the incident, and his decision was entirely correct. But what happened in the Tan Sinh incident? While Dinh Bac was holding the ball and shielding, Tan Sinh repeatedly kicked the opponent's leg from behind — an action whose dangerous nature can be recognized even by amateur viewers on a small screen. Slow-motion replays clearly show Tan Sinh's intention: not aiming at the ball, but at Dinh Bac's ankle. Under Law 12, a tackle from behind that uses excessive force and endangers the safety of an opponent must be punished with a direct red card. The referee might let it slide if he judges it as a mere tactical foul, but with repeated kicks at the opponent's leg even after Dinh Bac had fallen, showing only a yellow card was a serious professional error. This is not the first time Vietnamese referees have been lenient with violent acts. V-League is notorious for this kind of play: players deliberately kick at opponents' legs, use elbows, or even step on players lying on the ground, yet many situations end with just a yellow card or even go unnoticed. One reason for this inconsistency is that Vietnamese referees still rely heavily on their own instincts rather than making full use of VAR technology. In the match at Hang Day, VAR was available but not employed for the Tan Sinh incident, as the referee seemed to make a quick decision. When referees do not request video reviews, especially for potential violent acts, teams will feel they can get away with it. And once referees fail to show strictness, players will continue acting on impulse. But the problem of Vietnamese football does not lie solely with the referees. On fan forums, many people have openly criticized Dinh Bac — the victim of the violent act — saying he carries his share of blame. They argue that his showboating style and tendency to provoke opponents make him a target. Dinh Bac, a young talent of Vietnamese football, is known for his technical skills but also for unnecessary moves, holding the ball too long, and provoking opponents. In a high-level football environment, that can cost him with dangerous tackles. However, this argument cannot justify violence. No rule in football allows a player to attack an opponent simply because they feel provoked. If Dinh Bac is at fault, that is a matter for the referee to handle with a yellow card or a warning — not an excuse for opponents to take justice into their own hands. In my view, the truth lies somewhere in between: we need to see violence in Vietnamese football as a systemic issue, not the business of a few individuals. Football law already has sufficient provisions to handle violent situations. The problem is enforcement. If referees officiate consistently, if VAR is used at the right time, and if punishments are issued quickly and deterringly enough, players will have to think twice before attacking. But currently, V-League is creating an environment where undisciplined players can act aggressively without worrying much about consequences. Football is meant for learning, not for destroying opponents. The spirit of sportsmanship is not a distant concept — it begins with decisive calls from the referee on the field, and from each player understanding that their career can end any moment if they do not learn self-control. Huynh Tan Sinh was once a member of the Vietnam U20 team at the World Cup, won the SEA Games with U23 Vietnam, and has played professionally for more than ten years. A player with such a background should be a role model for the younger generation, rather than being involved in off-ball controversies. Van Hau, with his caliber and reputation, has also tarnished his image after a brutal foul on Doan Ngoc Tan. This shows the problem is not about skill level, but about competitive mentality. My mistake on live television at the 2026 World Cup taught me a lesson: legal precision is the only thing that can save a writer from public judgment. But that same precision is exactly what referees need to possess. A referee cannot just show a yellow card for a kick at an opponent's leg as if it were a normal foul. If we do not have decisiveness in every decision, if we do not dare to face violent situations with all legal means, then Vietnamese football will stay stuck in place. Looking back at the history of disciplinary sanctions in V-League, a worrying trend emerges: suspensions are often only imposed after the media and fans raise their voices. The Van Hau case is one example. Tan Sinh's incident, if judged only by the referee's on-field decision, would face no further action. But if the VFF Disciplinary Committee reviews the footage and determines it is an act of violence, Tan Sinh could face a suspension similar to Van Hau's. This shows that Vietnam's disciplinary system remains reactive rather than preventive. Let the data speak: in just the first three rounds of V-League 2026-25, at least four violent incidents were mentioned by the media. If this number keeps rising, it is not hard to predict that V-League will increasingly lose its appeal to spectators, who come to watch football, not violent fouls. We may say that violence is part of football — strong tackles, physical duels, and collisions are inevitable. But there is a clear line between playing hard and deliberately causing injury. Van Son's elbow, Tan Sinh's repeated kicks, Van Hau's stomping — all fall on the wrong side of that line. And when referees fail to recognize that line, or deliberately turn a blind eye, they are encouraging violence. Empty stands during spectator-less matches in the Covid era were the greatest laboratory for referees — that was when they could focus fully on decisions without crowd pressure. But now that fans have returned, psychological pressure weighs heavily on referees. Would a referee dare to send off a home team player in a crucial match? Would a referee dare to enforce the law even when the crowd protests? This is the big question not only for this match, but for Vietnamese football as a whole. I recall a principle I always apply in my profession: retreating into data is the only way to find truth amid chaos. If we collect data on all violent incidents from the last three seasons, cross-referencing them with the penalties referees issued on the field and the penalties imposed after video review, we would see a sad picture: the rate of violent incidents missed or under-penalized by referees in V-League could be as high as 50%. That means for every two violent plays, one does not receive proper punishment. This is not just about referee Le Vu Linh; it is about the whole system. The final question I want to pose is: do we want V-League to become a respectable tournament with beautiful matches, or a league that is famous for violent fouls? If the answer is the former, then we need a revolution in refereeing mentality, in discipline, and in player behavior culture. And that revolution cannot start next week, next season — it must begin right now, with plays like these.