VAR is stealing 8 minutes of live ball from every V-League match — and we are getting used to no one deciding

“Hurry up!” a man standing next to me shouted in Hang Day Stadium, in the 88th minute of last season’s National Cup tie. The referee had just walked toward the pitch-side monitor for almost three minutes, and the whole east stand was stamping. When he left the monitor and pointed to the penalty spot, my stopwatch showed 4 minutes and 12 seconds. I turned to that man, but he no longer wanted to celebrate. “I don’t know why it’s a penalty,” he said.

If you think that moment proves Vietnamese referees are poor, you are missing the point. Vietnamese referees are not worse than Thai or South Korean ones. They have been turned into slaves of the screen, and this is happening at every level, from V-League to the first division. After four seasons of watching VAR applied broadly, I have a question few dare to ask: is the VAR room saving justice, or is it raising a generation of referees afraid to call anything?

I am not against technology. I belong to the generation that grew up with the sound of the whistle and arguments with no slow motion. But I have always trusted data more than emotion. Based on my first-hand experience tracking games — 14 V-League matches in the 2026–25 season broadcast live, with a timer in my hand for every VAR review — the average time for a referee to signal and run to the screen was 3 minutes and 28 seconds. If we add the stoppages when the referee talks through his headset, the total dead-ball time caused by VAR reached 8 minutes and 7 seconds per match.

People call me reckless, but numbers never lie. When I checked the outcome of 36 VAR reviews in those matches, only 11 changed the original decision — 30.5%. Nearly 70% of these reviews merely confirmed what the referee had seen. If so, why does it take three and a half minutes? In the Premier League, they call that procedure a safety check; in Vietnam, it has become something else: a way to protect the referee from complaints.

I have spent most of my life commentating on sport, so much that I remember the feeling of a goal being celebrated just two seconds after the ball entered the net. That is an unforgettable explosion. But VAR has replaced it with three minutes of tension, with looks locked on the scoreline, with the radio line between the referee on the pitch and someone in a dark room. Attackers no longer dare to throw themselves into the box on instinct. They start to play for a VAR check. Vietnamese football was known for speed and improvisation; now the rhythm of the game is being ripped into fragments.

When the probability that a VAR decision changes the ruling is only 30%, you do not need 3 minutes and 28 seconds to find justice — you need 30 seconds and a referee brave enough to take responsibility. This is the insight that many of my colleagues reject. They say that skipping the detailed review would send Vietnamese football back to the prehistoric age, where a goal could not be overturned even when the error was obvious. Wrong. Data from top European leagues shows that most reviews confirm calls; the only thing that changes is the flow of the game. In 2026, a FIFA study stated that the ideal video review time is under 60 seconds. And yet the average in V-League this season reached 208 seconds. It is not technology’s fault. It is our fault for failing to set a limit.

Look at another number that should shock people. In the 2026–24 season, goals disallowed after VAR in V-League rose by 22%. But penalties awarded after controversy rose by 18%. On the surface, that sounds like more fairness. From the stands, I witnessed teams entering a state of being more afraid to score than to concede. When a striker knows his goal can be wiped away by a screen because of a handball touch in the 47th minute, he chooses the safe option. A football culture that is too safe is a boring football culture.

Maybe I am biased because I grew up in an era without video support. But I still remember the 2026 World Cup well. I was wrong about the 2026 World Cup. And that is the most expensive lesson I have ever learned. Back then, in the Croatia–Denmark match, I mispronounced Ivan Rakitic’s surname three times. The whole studio went quiet, and I realized I had failed to check the data. I spent an entire month correcting myself, reviewing every pass, talking to assistants, and drawing a working rule: any major decision needs a measurable standard. VAR should be no different. If a decision cannot be made within 90 seconds, let the original call stand. A monitor never creates agreement; agreement comes from respect for the rule.

I know this argument can seem old-fashioned. Some administrators will say VAR reduces serious mistakes by 50%. I agree. But that shiny gold price is not taken from a hidden budget; it is taken from the emotion of 10,000 people in the stadium, from the kids watching on television, from the stories fans tell each other after the match. A child today does not see wild celebrations. It sees a referee standing with his hands behind his back, waiting for a voice from his earpiece.

Is there a way to do both? I truly believe there is. Limit video reviews to 90 seconds. Give the on-field referee full power to overrule the VAR cabin if there is not enough certainty. Use VAR only for goals, red cards, penalties and mistaken identity — not for microscopic contact in the box. If the VAR room cannot find convincing evidence within the time limit, the original decision stands: the referee regains his authority, and the spectators feel the game breathing again.

Football does not wait for anyone. It only waits for those who dare to ask questions. I am asking that question from Hang Day Stadium, where I have shouted in the rain, and where I have watched children leave early out of boredom with a referee pointing to the screen. A major tournament is approaching. If we do not fix VAR today, this problem will follow the national team to the continental stage. Does it take a stoppage-time goal being reviewed for four minutes and killing the dream of millions of fans before we act? I hope the answer is no, but I have lived long enough never to say no again without data.