Nguyen Tien Minh (43) wins Vietnam Open 2026 qualifier: 'Not magic, but passion'

At Tân Bình district stadium, a dance of shuttlecocks was not heavy but light as a pink feather. Nguyễn Tiến Minh, 43, world No. 254, just defeated his 17-years-younger opponent Nguyễn Hoàng Thái Sơn in the men's singles qualifier at the Vietnam Open 2026 – a tournament in the BWF Super 100 system. The two-set score was not clearly reported, but the way he left the court with a wistful smile, nodding to the stands, tells a longer story than any milestone. As someone who has followed Asian badminton for more than four decades, I recognized it from the first serve. Thái Sơn – a player leaning toward doubles, with strength and speed as Minh himself admitted – still seemed to be finding his way on the vast singles court. Minh, by contrast, moved like a seasoned librarian who knows where every book belongs. Each step was not running, but light sliding, as if he had spent 43 years learning to fly over the wooden floor. After the match, Minh told reporters: 'Thái Sơn has strength and speed, but he is not strong in singles. I used experience to suffocate his counter-attacks. There is no magic here – I still love badminton.' That moment reminded me of the story of an unlocked door: many think older players cannot compete, but if you knock with the right technique, the door still opens. Vietnam Open 2026 is one link in the Super 100 series – the lowest tier in the BWF World Tour points system, featuring qualifying rounds and aimed at mid-tier or young talents. This year's event, held from September 8 to 13 in Ho Chi Minh City, attracted more than 300 athletes from 27 countries and territories, including players from Taiwan, Singapore, and several Asian teams. But there were almost no top seeds from China or Indonesia, making the tournament a 'stopover' for players to earn points or refine skills. In the context of Vietnamese men's singles, Nguyễn Tiến Minh stands as a legendary figure. He began his career over 20 years ago, once climbed to world No. 5 in 2026, and at age 43 remains in the world's top 254 – a respectable feat but only half of his peak period. 'Age does not spare anyone. But a slower pace is not an end, as long as the mind knows how to deceive the opponent,' Minh once said last season. Notably absent was Nguyễn Hải Đăng, and Lê Đức Phát – world No. 96 – required pain-relief injections due to knee and heel injuries. Nguyễn Hải Đăng lost in qualifying, and Lê Đức Phát was forced to withdraw or play sparingly. This reflects a reality: the new blood of Vietnamese badminton is still flowing unevenly, and at tournaments like Super 100, it is 'evergreen' players like Minh who carry the hope. However, looking only at the victory over Thái Sơn could trap us in romanticization. What is defeating a doubles-specialist in a qualifier? It is a light touch on history, not proof that Minh can still challenge top-tier players. His real opponent in the main draw is Zhe Ying Wu (Taiwan) – a young player with better singles technique. A single sample is not enough to paint the full picture; data from Minh's last three matches shows a decline in endurance in the third set, but he still won thanks to spinning shots and court reading. In my view, this victory is worth noting not for opening a new chapter, but for pointing to a larger door: the question is not what form Minh is in, but how young Vietnamese players are seeking a path. They have a living mentor in the form of an opponent who has surpassed age limits. His presence in the tournament is a corridor of memory – where young players can learn to gamble with their minds, not just their hands. Another counterintuitive angle: could this qualifier win be obscuring our view of the tournament's true value? Vietnam Open, organized by the Vietnam Badminton Federation, attracts over 300 players, but remains a Super 100 event – low ranking points, limited prize money, not part of Olympic qualification. A 43-year-old winning a qualifier is a personal achievement, but it is also a mirror reflecting the absence of a next generation. Lê Đức Phát is injured, Nguyễn Hải Đăng has not broken through, and Thái Sơn is merely a doubles player used in singles as an experiment. This imbalance must be viewed coldly, no matter how beautiful it looks. I still remember a line from my old article about the 2026 Sudirman Cup when I was 43 – exactly the age Minh now holds. I asked a fitness coach: 'If an athlete has only 70% stamina left, what tactics should they switch to?' The answer surprised me: 'They shouldn't switch to a new tactic. They should adjust how they move within the existing one.' Minh is doing exactly that – not re-choreographing his dance, only slowing the rhythm, making each movement more precious. He proves that a light slide at the right moment is worth three times a powerful jump. The Vietnam Open 2026 also features other notable names: in women's singles, Nguyễn Thùy Linh – the host's No. 1 seed – is expected to face Xu Wen Jing, a 19-year-old from Taiwan. But the most curious name is Jia Wei Joel Koh of Singapore, a young player deemed promising by experts. Yet structurally, Southeast Asian nations are sending young or veteran players, with almost no long-term planning. Vietnam especially is in a transition of a 'saturated' generation – where a veteran still sits on the throne, but beneath it lies a clear generational void. Lê Đức Phát with his knee and heel pain is a typical case. Once seen as 'the future of Vietnamese badminton,' when injuries linger, coaches must use painkillers to keep him playing in major events. His wife sat in section A, occasionally filming points. In a short interview, Phát said: 'Injury is part of the game. I know I could end my career if not careful, but I still choose to play. Family and fans are motivation.' The way he said 'choose to play' sent a chill through me – it contradicts the words about pain. If we accept a counterintuitive view, Nguyễn Tiến Minh's career at 43 could be a subtle trap for young players. They look at him and think 'no rush,' but his longevity is a signal of the system's failure to produce a replacement. When a locomotive runs too long on a track, it can obscure how corroded the track is. Without care, celebrating Minh is like photographing a late bloom on a dry field – beautiful, but the field needs water, not just flowers. Nevertheless, this qualifier provided notable tactical signals. Minh did not use explosive jump smashes; he used cuts to force Thái Sơn to move more. Statistics in the first set showed only 11 strong attacks, far fewer than his opponent, but his win rate from drop shots reached 68%. That is a weapon no young player can turn into a framework unless they practice for 20 years. However, statistics decide nothing in the next round. Zhe Ying Wu awaits Minh in the first round of men's singles. This Taiwanese player is 20 years younger, with a style of pressing from the baseline. Without a solid rhythm-control plan, Minh could be finished in 30 minutes. But I have learned that in badminton, especially at Super 100 level, matches often depend on who makes fewer mistakes, not who attacks more. At 43, each point is a debt to be repaid with compound interest from experience, not muscle. Looking at the big picture, Vietnam Open 2026 is one milestone in Vietnam's strategy to become a destination for BWF mid-tier events. The presence of delegations from 27 countries not only brings international atmosphere but also generates sports tourism revenue. But for long-term investment, one must ask: will young players be built physically, tactically, and mentally to succeed? Or will they continue running next to Minh's shadow until that shadow disappears? Five years ago, when I interviewed an 18-year-old player at a junior tournament in Northern Europe, the boy told me that older opponents are like yellowed books – everyone thinks they are old, but they still contain unworn pages of wisdom. Nguyễn Tiến Minh is that book, and the Vietnam Open 2026 is the display shelf. We should open it, read every chapter, and learn to rewrite the next pages for the next generation – before the last door of the court is locked. At 59, I still believe in map magic, but it does not come from delaying youth to worship age. It comes from knowing that each generation needs a storyteller, and sometimes the best storyteller is the one still holding the racket. Nguyễn Tiến Minh may win or lose against Zhe Ying Wu, but that match will not be the end – it will be a shuttlecock traced across the sky, painting a path for those willing to look.