The Vietnamese-Liverpudlian Billiards Journey: When Passion Transcends Borders and Stereotypes

On the night of August 14, 2026, the Car Mechanics Club in Liverpool was unusually quiet. No roaring crowds, no thunderous applause when the white ball kissed the pocket. Just the soft click of each shot, steady as the heartbeat of a fifty-nine-year-old man sitting in the coaching area, watching young players practice billiards under dim yellow lights.

Pham Tung — a name well-known in Liverpool's billiards circles — was observing a match between a local player and a Vietnamese athlete who had come to train. He spoke little. His eyes tracked every ball path, every angle, every moment the white ball stopped precisely where it should or drifted off by a tenth of an inch. For him, it wasn't just a game of billiards. It was a spatial equation he had been solving for forty-three years.

Forty-three years. Enough time for a boy born in Hanoi to become part of Liverpool's billiards landscape, enough time to witness three generations of players take turns in his seat, enough time to understand that billiards is not a pastime for the idle, but a sport demanding absolute precision in both psychology and technique.

In Vietnam, billiards has long been the most popular participation sport — more players than football if you count regular patrons at clubs and halls. Vietnamese streets are lined with hundreds of billiard halls, from venues with internationally standard tables to run-down establishments with one or two aging tables. People play billiards at noon, in the afternoon, in the evening, rain or shine. But despite these enormous participation numbers, Vietnamese billiards has never been considered a "legitimate" sport in the eyes of the public and sports administrators.

For instance, while amateur football tournaments can attract thousands of participants with corporate sponsorship, billiards tournaments typically struggle with meager budgets, receive little coverage in mainstream media, and are rarely broadcast live. A skilled Vietnamese billiards player, even with international achievements, still finds it difficult to make a living without a second job. This reality has persisted for decades with no sign of change.

Meanwhile, in England — the birthplace of modern snooker — the sport has developed into a billion-pound entertainment industry. Events like the World Championship at Sheffield's Crucible Theatre have been broadcast live on BBC for decades, creating stars like Ronnie O'Sullivan, Judd Trump, and Mark Selby — names even non-players recognize. The difference between these two worlds lies not just in scale or budget, but in how the sport is perceived and defined.

Pham Tung, positioned at the intersection of both worlds, understands this disparity better than anyone. He's not just a sports journalist but a coaching staff member at a Liverpool billiards club, training both amateur and semi-professional players. Throughout his career, he has witnessed exceptional Vietnamese billiards talents, most of whom faced a harsh reality: lack of resources, lack of support, and lack of opportunities to reach the international stage.

Tactical Analysis: Why Vietnamese Players Are Skilled But Underrecognized

To understand why Vietnamese billiards has potential but remains underdeveloped, one must examine the sport's tactical structure — and this is where cultural differences become most apparent.

Billiards, at its core, is a sport of space and time. Unlike football or basketball — where speed and physical strength matter most — billiards demands patience, multi-step calculation, and above all, emotional control. One wrong shot can unravel hours of careful play in an instant. Conversely, a clever play can turn a disadvantageous situation into a golden opportunity.

Vietnamese people, according to many experts, have a particular psychological advantage in this sport. Traits shaped by centuries of history — flexibility, rapid adaptation to changing circumstances, and most importantly, the determination never to give up — translate into exceptional composure at crucial moments.

However, the opposite is equally true. This very flexibility sometimes becomes a weakness. Vietnamese players tend to play by emotion, by intuition rather than by system. While a professional British snooker player might spend fifteen minutes analyzing an angle before executing a shot, many Vietnamese players rely on instinct and "luck" — what Western coaches often call "playing by feel" instead of "playing by system."

Pham Tung once shared in an interview: "In the summer of 2026, I worked with a German snooker coach. He taught me something I've never forgotten: pressing isn't anger, it's a calculation. It's the same in billiards. If you only play by emotion, you'll never reach the highest level. You need a system, a method, disciplined thinking."

This is the central paradox of Vietnamese billiards: we have innate talent, burning passion, but lack a structured training system, investment in infrastructure, and most importantly, long-term vision from sports administrators.

Tactical Blind Spots: Why We Always Talk About Talent and Forget System

Whenever a Vietnamese billiards player achieves good results internationally, media typically praises "innate talent," "natural gift," or "destiny with billiards." Stories of players from poor families rising through billiards are retold like modern legends. But few ask: if talent is the deciding factor, why do we have millions of billiards players but can count on one hand those who truly shine internationally?

The answer lies in the system — or rather, its absence.

In England, a young snooker player can be identified early through organized youth development programs, then entered into an Academy system with professional coaches, sports psychologists, nutritionists, and critically, regular high-level competition opportunities. This system produced stars like Ronnie O'Sullivan — considered by many the greatest snooker player of all time — but even O'Sullivan has acknowledged he couldn't have reached his current level without systemic support.

In Vietnam, the story is entirely different. A talented young player is usually discovered by chance — through an amateur tournament, a video shared on social media, or simply through word of mouth. Then, if lucky, they might receive financial support from a sponsor, participate in a few international tournaments, but life and work typically pull them back to earth. No clear career path, no professional support team, no domestic tournaments of sufficient quality to maintain form.

This is the blind spot even those directly involved often overlook. We focus too much on finding and praising individual talent while forgetting that in modern sports, no individual can achieve long-term success without systemic support. Talent is only raw material. The system is the factory that processes it into a finished product.

Notable Signals: When the World Begins Looking East

However, not everything is bleak. In recent years, positive signals indicate Vietnamese billiards is gaining international attention.

First, the increase in international tournaments hosted in Vietnam. Events like the World Cup 9-ball, Asian Championship, and others have been scheduled in major cities like Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, and Da Nang. This not only creates opportunities for Vietnamese players to compete at home but also attracts international professional attention.

Second, the appearance of Vietnamese athletes in major global tournaments. While names like Nguyen Duc Long, Tran Quoc Hoang, and Ma Minh Long are familiar to domestic fans, younger players like Nguyen Dinh Tuan are gradually establishing themselves at Asian and world levels. They bring back not only achievements but also experience, knowledge, and most importantly, confidence that Vietnamese people can compete at the highest levels.

Third, changing perceptions among Vietnamese youth about billiards. Previously, billiards was associated with negative imagery — internet cafes, dropout teens, small gambling games. But today, more young people view billiards as a legitimate sport, a way to develop concentration, patience, and tactical thinking skills. Modern billiards halls are emerging in major cities, attracting not only amateur players but also those seeking professional careers.

Pham Tung, with his perspective straddling both cultures, observes: "I've seen the change. In Liverpool, people no longer view snooker as a sport for the elderly. There are clubs rejuvenating, tournaments with new formats, a blend of tradition and modernity. I think Vietnamese billiards is following a similar path. The question is whether we can accelerate this process."

Lessons from the Pandemic Winter: When Pitches Fall Silent, the Click of Billiards Still Echoes

In 2026, when the COVID-19 pandemic forced all sporting activities to halt, something interesting happened: billiard halls in many places worldwide, including Vietnam, were among the first to reopen. The reason was simple: billiards is a low-interaction sport, easy to maintain social distancing, requiring minimal space. But deeper, the pandemic revealed billiards' remarkable resilience in crisis.

For Pham Tung, the pandemic winter was a time for deeper research into billiards' connections with other sports. He reviewed hundreds of matches, analyzed data from pre-pandemic tournaments, and discovered spatial patterns he had never noticed before. "When pitches fall silent, I hear the cracks of a sports system refusing to change," he wrote in one analysis. "But at the same time, I realized billiards might be the answer to many problems Vietnamese sports is facing."

This is a bold but well-founded assessment. While sports requiring large investments in facilities, personnel, and technology struggle, billiards emerges as a more viable option. The cost of investing in a professional billiards hall is much lower than a football pitch or sports arena. Training time for a billiards athlete is also shorter, and career longevity can extend to 60 or beyond — unlike football or basketball, where peak years typically end past 35.

The Question to Ask: What Do We Want Billiards to Become?

Returning to Pham Tung's story at Car Mechanics Club on the night of August 14. The match ended with victory for the Vietnamese player — not because of superior technique, but because of patience and the ability to wait for opportunities. Pham Tung didn't applaud. He only nodded slightly, then continued observing what was happening on the table.

After the match, he had a brief conversation with the Vietnamese player. They discussed technique, angle calculation, competitive psychology. Then the young player asked: "Sir, in your opinion, do I have a chance to become a professional player?" Pham Tung was silent for a long moment. Finally, he replied: "Opportunity always exists. But the question isn't whether you have a chance. The question is: how much are you willing to sacrifice to pursue that chance?"

That brief answer accurately reflects the current state of Vietnamese billiards. We don't lack talent, we don't lack passion, but we lack a clear vision of how billiards should develop in the future. We need a structured training system, a specific career path for young athletes, and most importantly, commitment from sports administrators to invest long-term in this sport.

At fifty-nine, Pham Tung still believes in what he once mocked in his youth: billiards is a game of moments. But he also believes in something else — that those moments can be created, nurtured, arranged into a larger picture. As long as someone is willing to look beyond the present moment.

And perhaps, that is what Vietnamese billiards needs most right now: not an exceptional talent, but a long-term vision from those holding the sport's destiny.

The Liverpool night grows late. Pham Tung turns off the training room lights, but his eyes remain bright as in his younger days. He knows Vietnamese billiards stands at a crossroads. The question is whether those with decision-making power dare to take the step.