Vietnamese Golf: When the Course Is Bigger Than 18 Holes

The moment I remember most from the 2026 Vietnam Open was not the decisive putt on the 18th hole. It was Wednesday morning, when I stood at hole 3, watching a young Vietnamese caddie around 20 years old carefully cleaning each club for a Korean amateur golfer. He worked with absolute focus, as if each club were a work of art. I suddenly realized: Vietnamese golf is developing not because the number of courses is increasing, but because quiet people like that caddie are learning to understand this game at a deeper level. The stadium is empty, but the applause still echoes in my heart. Over the past 5 years, Vietnam has witnessed an unprecedented boom in golf. From 20 golf courses in 2026, that number has grown to over 90 courses by 2026. Numerous international tournaments have been held in Vietnam, from the Vietnam Open on the Asian Tour to LPGA events. But what concerns me is not those impressive numbers. I care about a deeper question: is Vietnamese golf developing in the right direction? When I began following Vietnamese golf in the 1990s, the entire country had only one golf course in Da Lat. I remember flights from Brisbane to Ho Chi Minh City to film small tournaments where Vietnamese golfers competed with old club sets and non-standard shoes. But their spirit was anything but outdated. They played golf with pure passion, untainted by money or fame. Today, everything has changed. Young Vietnamese golfers receive systematic training, have personal coaches, scientific nutrition plans, and modern equipment. They compete in international tournaments and bring home impressive achievements. But I wonder: do they still maintain that pure passion? Or have they been swept into the vortex of achievement and pressure? Based on my experience following matches over 49 years, I notice a remarkable pattern. Young Vietnamese golfers are learning to play golf from foreign coaches, mainly American and Korean. They learn swing technique, how to read greens, how to manage the course. But they don't learn the most important thing: how to tell their own story on the golf course. I remember the first time I watched a young Vietnamese golfer compete in the national amateur championship. His swing technique was nearly perfect - I watched his video analysis at least 20 times. But when facing pressure on hole 16, he chose a safe shot instead of a bold one. That's not a technical error. That's a psychological error. He hasn't found his own voice on the golf course. Golf is a game of patience. But patience doesn't mean passivity. Croatia didn't have the trophy, but they created a new measure of patience. Similarly, Vietnamese golfers need to learn to be patient actively - knowing when to attack, when to defend, when to accept a bogey to save a birdie on the next hole. I have followed Nguyen Anh Minh, one of Vietnam's most promising young golfers, for 3 years. He has a very powerful driver, capable of hitting the ball over 300 yards. But he often gets into trouble on short par 3 holes. Why? Because he always tries to overpower every hole with strength, instead of learning to read situations and choose smart shots. Rohan runs with his legs, but he wins with his breath. Similarly, Nguyen Anh Minh needs to learn that golf is not just about power, but also about finesse. Another issue I observe is the lack of connection between generations of Vietnamese golfers. In Australia, I see older golfers regularly sharing experience with younger golfers. They play together, train together, and most importantly, they tell each other stories about historic matches. In Vietnam, I see a gap between generations. Young golfers only focus on technique, while older golfers - those who laid the foundation for Vietnamese golf - are gradually being forgotten. This leads me to an important observation: Vietnamese golf is developing too fast in terms of infrastructure but too slowly in terms of culture. We have 90 golf courses, but we don't yet have a true golf culture. In Scotland, where golf was born, every golf course has its own story. In Vietnam, most golf courses are designed according to a common formula: 18 holes, 72 par, and beautiful names without meaning. Look at what South Korea has done. They didn't just build modern golf courses; they created a golf training system tied to Korean culture - discipline, respect, and team spirit. As a result, South Korea has produced world-class golfers like Pak Se-ri, Inbee Park, and Kim Si-woo. They not only have good technique, but they also have their own identity on the golf course. Vietnam can learn from that. We have a rich culture with values like patience, finesse, and hospitality. These values can be transformed into a unique style of golf. But that requires a shift in mindset - from chasing quantity to investing in quality and identity. I also want to talk about the business side of Vietnamese golf. In recent years, I have witnessed the increase of foreign sponsors in golf tournaments in Vietnam. This brings important financial resources, but it also raises a question: is Vietnamese golf losing its identity in the process of globalization? Shirt advertising is destroying the connection between clubs and local communities; global sponsors only care about exposure ROI. I see the same thing happening with Vietnamese golf. The counter-intuitive point here is: Vietnam doesn't need more golf courses. Vietnam needs more stories. When I talk to tournament organizers, they always talk about expanding scale, attracting more sponsors, increasing the number of players. But I believe the sustainable development of Vietnamese golf lies in building a unique identity - a way of playing golf that carries the distinct mark of Vietnamese culture. Let's try reversing the argument: if Vietnam had 200 golf courses but no golfer in the world's top 100, would we be proud? I think not. Conversely, if Vietnam had only 20 golf courses but 5 golfers in the world's top 50, that would be real success. The number of golf courses is not the measure of development. The quality of stories is the measure. Vietnamese golf is at a crossroads. One path leads to becoming a copy of Korean or Japanese golf. The other path leads to creating something completely new - a way of playing golf that reflects the patience, finesse, and endurance of the Vietnamese people. I don't know which path will be chosen. But I know that young caddies like the boy I met at hole 3 will be the ones to decide. Exhaustion is not a stopping point, but a crossroads where we choose the next path.