Vietnamese Martial Arts Lacks Data: When Sports Journalists Must Rely on Instinct

In modern sports, data has become an indispensable part of every report. From tactics to physicality to psychology, every aspect is examined by experts through numbers. Yet, one evening in March, at a martial arts event in Hanoi, I encountered a unique situation: the pre-fight analysis provided contained no specific information at all. The document was simply a line saying "Insufficient Information for Analysis." This reminded me of my years as a sports journalist in another country, where people relied so heavily on data that they forgot a match is played by human beings. That empty analysis raises a larger issue: our increasing dependence on analytical tools, even when data is simply not available. For traditional martial arts like Vovinam, collecting statistics on techniques, speed, or the fighters' heart rates remains very limited. Unlike football or basketball, Vovinam's structure lacks modern sensors tracking every movement. Fights are often assessed subjectively by judges. So when a media outlet requests detailed analytics, there is no data to provide. And this is not necessarily bad news; it is an opportunity to recognize the current reality. Many might argue that a lack of data signifies an undeveloped martial art. But I see a unique characteristic: emotion and intuition still play decisive roles. When I used to follow top-level combat sports in Europe, people brought a dozen tablets to analyze every metric. However, the bouts I remember most are those where fighters had to read situations through experience, not a virtual assistant whispering in their ears. Perhaps that is why Vietnamese martial arts, particularly styles like Vovinam and Binh Dinh gia, maintain a wild, unpredictable beauty. Imagine a young fighter stepping onto the mat with no information about his opponent. He only sees the colors of the uniform and the opponent's eyes. This forces him to react quickly and adapt flexibly. In contrast, a lack of data at an international competition would be a disaster. But at a domestic traditional martial arts competition, it is the norm. I recall an elderly master once saying, "The fight is not in the numbers; the fight is in the breath." That saying has stayed with me ever since. Yesterday, the Vietnam Vovinam Federation spoke out about media outlets complaining about the lack of technical analysis for the upcoming semi-finals. The federation stated that, lacking an official electronic database, they could only provide basic information such as fighter names, clubs, and recent results. This led many journalists to speculate, with some even writing that the fights would be "very unpredictable." The truth is, at the recent event in Hanoi, when I asked experts in the front row about winning chances, everyone shook their heads. Not because they lacked expertise, but because they knew martial arts are inherently variable. Improving the data infrastructure would be necessary to address this. Some regional countries have begun attaching sensors to uniforms to measure strike force and speed. But in Vietnam, equipment costs remain high, and the martial arts community is not yet open to scientific methods. Masters often keep secrets within forms, unwilling to turn them into open data. This creates an information gap. However, that gap also provides an interesting playground for sports journalists: they must use observation skills, interviews, and background knowledge to compensate. Looking back at the 2026 National Traditional Martial Arts Championship, the 70kg final was dramatic. Fighter Tran Van Hung won with a decisive strike in the third round, even though no one could confidently predict a win beforehand. International bookmakers even refused to offer odds due to lack of data. Yet Hung still defeated Nguyen Van An, a much more decorated opponent. That proves that when statistics are absent, mental strength takes precedence. Hung said after the fight, "I don't need to know how many fights my opponent has won; I just focus on my own techniques." That statement partly explains why Vietnamese martial arts preserve their identity. Many will argue that the lack of data is backwardness. But I believe that delaying technology sometimes prevents martial arts from becoming overly formulaic. In modern football, teams use xG (expected goals), pressing numbers, and dozens of metrics for tactics. The result is a homogenized playing style with fewer surprises. Conversely, martial arts, lacking standardized data, constantly produce ingenious maneuvers that machines cannot explain. This makes them uniquely appealing. For a sports journalist, the absence of data is a major challenge, but not insurmountable. In my years in Germany, I learned to observe quietly. Germans say, "Numbers don't lie, but liars also use numbers." Therefore, consider the absence of information not as a dead end, but as a starting point for investigation. A good journalist is not just one who analyzes data, but one who finds the story behind those numbers – or behind the emptiness. Remember, in those fights where the analysis sheet merely says "insufficient information," that is when your ears and eyes become sharper than ever. After all, people remember the strike, but I remember the way the stands sighed when they didn't know what would happen next. That is the beauty of sports – there is never a perfect formula, and no machine can ever predict the human heart.