Sepak Takraw at ASIAD 20: When the Gap on the Podium Is Wider Than the Gap on the Court

In the last three women's sepak takraw matches I had the chance to rewind, one detail kept repeating: the gap between an opponent's legs when they pivoted to receive the ball was always wider than the gap between our two players when they coordinated. That is the signature of a system trained to reflex, where every movement is measured in centimeters. But when the ASIAD 20 gold medal was awarded, the story turned in another direction – not on the court, but on paper. On September 29, in Nagoya, Japan, the Vietnam women's sepak takraw team won the gold medal in the doubles event. The three athletes were Nguyen Thi Thu Trang, Nguyen Thi Khanh Ly, and a third teammate (unnamed in the announcement). This was a historic gold medal for Vietnamese sepak takraw at the ASIAD arena – a milestone any sport craves. But what caught my attention was not the medal itself, but how the system behind it operates. According to Government Decree 349/2026/ND-CP, each athlete winning an ASIAD gold medal receives 280 million VND. Added to that is a special preferential treatment of 20 million VND per person per month, extending from the result until the next ASIAD – about 48 months. In total, each athlete receives about 1.24 billion VND from the state budget. Multiplied by three, the figure reaches 3.72 billion VND, nearly 4 billion as headlines reported. But that is only the first tier. The real story lies in the second tier: Resolution 82/2026/NQ-HDND of the Hanoi People's Council. Under this resolution, Hanoi athletes winning an ASIAD gold receive an additional 140 million VND per person, plus a special preferential treatment of 33.5 million VND per person per month for 48 months – equivalent to about 1.608 billion VND per person. In total, each Hanoi athlete receives about 1.748 billion VND more from the city budget. This means Nguyen Thi Thu Trang and Nguyen Thi Khanh Ly – the two athletes on the Hanoi payroll – receive a total of about 2.48 billion VND from the state and 3.496 billion VND from the city, nearly 6 billion VND each. Meanwhile, the third teammate, not on the Hanoi payroll, receives only the central budget portion: 1.24 billion VND. The gap between the two groups is nearly 5 billion VND – a gap that is not small, and it is not on the sepak takraw court. I do not have enough data to assert this is unfair. It may be an inevitable consequence of budget decentralization: a city with its own resolution gives its athletes more. But as a tactical analyst, I see a familiar pattern: when the system creates two tiers of benefits for the same achievement, the team's internal motivation erodes over time. An athlete whose name is not on the city's golden list will begin to question the value of their contribution. And in a team sport, where the gap between two people is a matter of survival, that erosion can become a real tactical hole. Look at how the system operates. Decree 349/2026/ND-CP was issued in 2026, Resolution 82/2026/NQ-HDND in 2026, right when ASIAD 20 took place. This is not a coincidence. It shows a process prepared in advance: set the gold medal target, build the reward mechanism, and disburse as soon as the result is valid. That is a well-designed system, not an improvised reaction. But well-designed does not mean blind spots do not exist. The first blind spot: the preferential treatment of 20 million VND per month (state) and 33.5 million VND per month (Hanoi) is calculated until the next ASIAD. If the next ASIAD takes place after 48 months, the total value is 960 million VND and 1.608 billion VND. But if the cycle is shortened or extended, the figures change. This is income dependent on the competition calendar, not a fixed sum. And in a context where the state budget can always be adjusted, there is no guarantee that this treatment will be maintained intact for four years. The second blind spot is coach Hoang Thi Thai Xuan. Under the rules, a coach receives 50% of an athlete's entitlement. This means Ms. Xuan receives about 620 million VND from the state budget – not a small sum, but calculated on the assumption that the athlete's entitlement is fixed. If for any reason the entitlement is adjusted, the coach's income is affected accordingly. Once again, the gap between the number on paper and the actual number may be larger than we think. The third blind spot, and perhaps the most important, is the hot bonus of 200 million VND from the delegation, not to mention rewards from the federation and sponsors. These are not included in the "nearly 4 billion" figure reported by the media. This means the athletes' actual total income may be much higher – but it also means the "nearly 4 billion" figure reflects only part of the story. When a headline chooses one number to represent the whole, it inadvertently creates a misleading expectation about the scale of the actual reward. I once wrote about a similar case in football: when a player transferred for 97.5 million pounds, the media focused only on that number and forgot that the transfer fee included many add-ons, and the actual value the club paid could be higher or lower depending on the terms. Here too. The figure of 3.72 billion VND is part of the picture, not the whole picture. And if we look only at that number, we will miss the more important gaps: the gap between athletes in the same team, the gap between provinces with different reward mechanisms, and the gap between what is announced and what is actually awarded. There is a saying I always keep in mind: "The gap never disappears, we just haven't been patient enough to see it." In this case, the gap is not on the sepak takraw court – where the athletes have filled it with technique and courage. The gap is in the reward system, where one gold medal can bring very different values to the people who won it together. And this is the point I want to emphasize: our reward system operates on a two-tier model – state and local. This model has the advantage of encouraging localities to invest in sports, but it also has the disadvantage of creating disparities between athletes in the same national team. If we want to build a sustainable sports foundation, we may need a regulatory mechanism to ensure that every member of a medal-winning team benefits proportionally to their contribution – regardless of where they are on the payroll. Of course, this is a hypothesis. I do not have enough data to assert that this disparity is a serious problem. But as an analyst, I have a responsibility to point out gaps that could become risks. And the biggest risk is not that one athlete receives less than a teammate – but that the system does not recognize that the disparity exists. Look at how sports nations develop. In countries with strong sports systems, reward systems are often designed to encourage fairness within the team. For example, in Japan, Olympic gold medal bonuses are distributed equally to all team members, regardless of where they come from. In South Korea, special treatment is applied uniformly to all medal-winning athletes, regardless of locality. This is not a comparison to say we are worse, but to point out that there are other models to reference. But I also do not want to paint an overly pessimistic picture. In fact, Hanoi having its own resolution on sports rewards is a positive signal. It shows the city government cares about high-performance sports and is willing to invest resources to encourage athletes. The issue is only how to expand this model to other localities, or how to have a coordination mechanism at the national level to ensure fairness. I recall the story of Barcelona 2026 – a team I spent six weeks rewatching 47 matches. What made them great was not the stars, but the system. Every player knew exactly their position in the system, and every gap was filled by another player. The same applies to sepak takraw. A strong team is not just three good athletes, but a system in which each person feels properly valued. If the reward system creates a sense of injustice, it can become a psychological gap – and psychological gaps, as I learned from football, are often more dangerous than gaps on the court. So what is the solution? I do not have a complete answer, but I have a suggestion: start by disclosing the entire reward mechanism, including the state, local, federation, and sponsor portions. When everyone knows clearly what they receive and why, the gaps become clearer – and can be addressed before they become problems. Another suggestion is to consider establishing a common reward fund at the national level, where localities can contribute and every medal-winning athlete benefits equally. This would not only address the disparity but also create a mechanism to encourage localities to invest in sports more sustainably. Of course, these are ideas that need careful study before application. But I believe, as an analyst, raising the issue is the first step to finding a solution. And in this case, the issue is not the gold medal – but how we treat those who brought it home. Look again at the figure of 3.72 billion VND. It is an impressive number, but it is only the tip of the iceberg. The submerged part – including hot bonuses, federation rewards, sponsor rewards, and disparities between localities – is what determines the true value of the medal. And if we look only at the tip, we will never understand the whole story. In the three matches I rewatched, there was one play I remember: Nguyen Thi Thu Trang received the ball in an almost desperate posture, but she still managed to pivot and send the ball over the net in one continuous motion. The gap between her and her teammate at that moment was only about 30 centimeters, but it was enough to create a counterattack. That gap was measured in technique and courage. The gap in the reward system is measured in policy and fairness. Both matter, but only one can be filled by training. If I am wrong, it means our reward system is perfect, and the gaps I see are illusions. But if I am right, then perhaps it is time for an excavation – not to find gold in the past, but to find gaps in the present. Because, as I have written many times, the gap never disappears, we just haven't been patient enough to see it. And in this case, the biggest gap may not be on the sepak takraw court, but on the podium – where three athletes stand side by side, but each receives a different share for the same gold medal.