Vietnam's Women's Sepak Takraw at ASIAD 20: Decoding the Nearly 4 Billion VND Behind a Historic Gold Medal

When Vietnam's sports delegation returned from the 20th Asian Games held in Nagoya, Japan, amid countless medals and short news briefs, one line made me read it a second time, then a third. It was about Vietnam's women's sepak takraw team — three small-framed girls on the court, bringing home a historic gold medal, accompanied by a reward system that, added together, could reach nearly 4 billion Vietnamese dong.

I have spent nearly three decades observing and writing about women's sports. From table tennis and badminton to women's football, women's basketball, women's volleyball. In every sport, I have encountered the same paradox: the women who carry the dream of an entire sporting world on their shoulders are usually the ones mentioned least, paid most modestly, and remembered most briefly. The sepak takraw gold in Nagoya is no exception. But the story behind it has something different.

Some stars do not need a spotlight; they light themselves from the darkness. Three women's sepak takraw athletes — with two names given, Nguyen Thi Thu Trang and Nguyen Thi Khanh Ly, alongside an unnamed third teammate — are such stars. They do not play a sport broadcast live every week. They have no lucrative sponsorship contracts. They play sepak takraw — a sport familiar to Southeast Asians but almost invisible on the world sporting map.

And precisely because of that, the nearly 4 billion dong reward figure becomes a story worth analysing to the very end.

Context: A sport without luxury seating

Sepak takraw is the signature sport of Southeast Asia. Players use their feet, knees, shoulders and chest to send a rattan or plastic woven ball over a net. It is governed internationally by ISTAF and in Asia by ASTAF, not by the Badminton World Federation (BWF), as many mistakenly assume upon seeing the word "cau". The sport's most prestigious arena is the Asian Games (ASIAD), under the Olympic Council of Asia (OCA).

In Southeast Asia, sepak takraw holds a special place. Thailand, Myanmar, Malaysia, Indonesia and Laos — the sport's traditional powers — all treat it as part of their national sporting identity. Vietnam belongs to that group, but for decades we have stood more often in the position of challenger than leader. Vietnamese sepak takraw golds at Asian Games or SEA Games are not unprecedented, but each one carries its own historical weight.

The 20th Asian Games in Nagoya is a significant milestone. This is not a purely professional event like a Super 1000 or a world championship in any sport. It is a continental multi-sport Games where every flag, every medal counts toward the national medal table. And there, a three-woman Vietnamese sepak takraw team stood on the highest podium.

What I want you to notice is how this story was told. There is no description of a score. Not a line about the opponents. No detail about the decisive play, the heading technique, or how they manoeuvred on the narrow court. That modest report — just sixteen information points — focuses entirely on rewards: state bonuses, municipal bonuses, preferential treatment, hot bonuses, and the coaching split.

An outcome is not technique. A gold medal is an outcome, not the mechanism that produced it. And when a report tells us only about the outcome and the reward while omitting the entire battle, that is a telling sign about how we cover sport.

Core analysis: Two tiers, one paradox

What makes the report about Vietnam's women's sepak takraw team interesting to me, as someone trained in economics, is the two-tier structure of the reward system. This is not one single bonus figure, but an architecture of layered payments.

The first tier is the state tier. Under Decree No. 349/2026/ND-CP, each athlete winning an Asian Games gold receives 280 million dong. This is the standard rate for the highest achievement at ASIAD. But that is only the starting point.

Alongside the one-off bonus is a special preferential treatment: 20 million dong per person per month, lasting from the result until the next Asian Games. With a four-year Asian Games cycle, this period equals 48 months. Multiplied by 20 million, that is 960 million dong. Added to the 280 million one-off bonus, each athlete receives about 1.24 billion dong from the state source.

Three athletes, multiplied, gives 3.72 billion dong. This is exactly the figure the media called "nearly 4 billion dong".

I checked the arithmetic again. 280 plus 960 equals 1,240 million. 1,240 times 3 equals 3,720 million. Precise. The "nearly 4 billion" figure is entirely well-founded, and it is so neat that it easily leads readers to nod and move on.

But that is only the first tier.

The second tier is the local tier, and this is where the story truly changes. Under Resolution No. 82/2026/NQ-HDND of the Hanoi People's Council, athletes on the Hanoi payroll additionally receive a 140 million dong bonus each, plus a special preferential treatment of 33.5 million dong per person per month. Multiplied by 48 months, this treatment reaches about 1.608 billion dong.

In total, each athlete on the Hanoi payroll could receive about 1.748 billion dong from the city. Added to about 1.24 billion from the state, each exceeds the 3 billion dong mark.

This is the key point. Of the three women athletes, only two are confirmed to be on the Hanoi payroll. The third — as I said, not even named — may not fall under the city's benefits. If so, the gap between the two teammates and the third could reach nearly 1.75 billion dong.

One gold medal. Three people. Two income levels.

I am not saying this to criticise the mechanism. Localised reward systems are a common reality in Vietnamese sport, reflecting how localities invest in their athletes. Hanoi invests more, so it rewards more. That is market logic, and it is also policy logic.

But as someone who writes about women's sport, I cannot help pausing here. Because what it exposes is not the injustice of a single resolution, but the fragility of the entire system. A woman athlete, after dedicating her youth to training, may or may not have a local "safety net". Her luck depends on which locality she was born in, or recruited into.

Beyond these two statutory tiers, there are other sums not yet quantified. There is the 200 million dong "hot bonus" from the delegation, awarded on the spot at the event and excluded from the figures above. There are also federation and sponsor rewards, which the report acknowledges exist without stating the amount.

And do not forget the coach — the woman behind the achievement. Under the rules, coach Hoang Thi Thai Xuan receives 50% of an athlete's entitlement. With about 1.24 billion from the state, her share is estimated at about 620 million dong. This is a small but notable detail, since sports reports rarely bother to break down coaching income. A system that specifies the coach's share clearly indicates a calculated mechanism, not spontaneous generosity.

Adding everything up, including both state and Hanoi sources for three athletes and one coach, the total could exceed 8 billion dong. The "nearly 4 billion" reported in the press actually reflects only the state budget portion for three athletes. It is not wrong. But it is incomplete.

Price reflects the market, but dignity reflects the person. And here, what is most clearly reflected is not the market value of the medal, but how we price it within an administrative system.

Contrarian angle: The blind spot behind the glory

At this point, I want to turn in another direction. Because if we stop at adding and subtracting numbers, we still have not touched the most important thing.

Look at how the preferential treatment is designed. It lasts "until the next Asian Games". This is a seemingly technical detail with life-or-death significance. It means the true value of the reward is not a fixed figure, but depends on the calendar. It depends on when the next Games take place, and whether the treatment is maintained throughout that cycle.

This is the key point the report does not state: most of the reward's value is not given now, but promised in the future. For a young athlete, a monthly income commitment over four years is a precious safety net, allowing her to transition between her competitive career and later life with peace of mind. But it is also a commitment dependent on budgets, political cycles, and the stability of legal documents.

If the budget changes, if the Games cycle is disrupted as happened during the pandemic, if a new decree adjusts the treatment system — then the real value of today's medal could be eroded. This is a silent risk, absent from headlines, yet something any woman athlete must consider when planning her life.

I have witnessed this in the context of another sport. In 2026, when the pandemic halted every tournament worldwide, I collected data from 27 women athletes and found their average income had fallen by 73%. That figure appeared in no glossy report. It only emerged for those willing to sit down and count.

Empty years are not silence; they are the foundation for firm choices. For the women's sepak takraw athletes, the four years after the Nagoya gold will be the foundation for their future. But how solid that foundation is depends on variables they do not control.

There is one more subtle blind spot. The report calls this gold "historic". That is a beautiful word. But historic compared to what? The report provides no information about opponents, the number of participating teams, the score, or the competitive margin. I have no basis to assess the real strength of the final opponent. I do not know whether this is Vietnam's first gold in this event, or its umpteenth.

That means we are celebrating an achievement without a yardstick to quantify it. And in sport, celebration without measurement often leads to two consequences. First, it creates expectations for the next cycle: if this is "historic", people will await another "historic". Second, it leaves the public unable to distinguish a dominant gold from a lucky one.

For women athletes, this burden of expectation is heavier. Because when you are part of a "historic" achievement, people will not grant you the right to fail next time.

Takeaway: From a medal to a system

I do not write this piece to praise or disparage the nearly 4 billion dong figure. I write it because behind that number lies a bigger question we often avoid: how are we treating women's sport?

Hanoi's decision — with a 140 million bonus and 33.5 million monthly treatment — could become a template. If other provinces follow, Vietnam's talent map will change. Young athletes will have more reason to commit to their sport, and localities more incentive to invest.

But this localisation model has a flip side. It could create a growing gap between athletes in wealthy localities and those in poorer provinces. It could turn a national gold medal from an equal achievement into a conditional stroke of luck.

They do not run for titles; they run so the next generation need not run as they did. The three women's sepak takraw athletes, named or not, have achieved what many generations of Vietnamese women in sport dreamed of: standing on the highest podium of a continental arena. What they need now is not only prize money, but a system that turns a gold medal into a sustainable platform for an entire career.

Every sporting life is an unfinished manuscript, and I am merely the scribe. But if that manuscript can be continued with better policy, that will be the true gold medal of Vietnamese sport.

And you, dear reader — when you read a figure of "nearly 4 billion dong", do you wonder where the rest of the story lies?