Long An Stadium at 40: From Local Pride to the Park Conversion Crossroads and the Missed 1,822 Billion VND Question

Long An Stadium at 40: From Local Pride to the Park Conversion Crossroads and the Missed 1,822 Billion VND Question

The walls of Stand B are peeling in large sections, with a danger warning sign erected as a belated confession of prolonged neglect. The drainage system is shattered, exposing rusted steel bars pointing like arrows at a stark reality: the stadium that was once the pride of Long An sports no longer meets the standards to host a single professional match. Not a marquee fixture, not a decisive goal, but the deterioration of concrete, drainage pipes, and turf is the most compelling sports story in Tay Ninh right now.

Long An Stadium, located in Long An ward, Tay Ninh province (formerly Tan An city, Long An province), was built in 2026 with a capacity of 20,000 seats. The complex spans approximately 75,000 m², with the main stadium area covering about 3.2 hectares, including an auxiliary field, gymnasium, training hall, and swimming pool. For decades, it stood as one of the sporting symbols of the Mekong Delta region, witnessing the golden days of Long An football with two V.League titles in 2026 and 2026.

But time and administrative reorganization have eroded everything. From being an integral part of the province's sporting life, the stadium now only hosts small local tournaments, with the grass still mowed fairly flat but only for a few amateur matches. The surrounding area has been divided and leased for commercial purposes, with food stalls, coffee shops, and fashion stores. The absence of major sporting events in recent years is not just a consequence of deterioration but also a cause of further neglect. An infrastructure death spiral: fewer events lead to less maintenance investment, leading to more deterioration, and thus even fewer events.

Financially, this story has more layers than what appears on the surface. In 2026, a plan was approved to sell assets and transfer land use rights to fund a new sports center. By August 2026, the land was transferred to the Land Development Center with expectations of auctioning it for 1,822 billion VND. But the auction never took place. On June 25, the Government Inspector General concluded the auction plan was non-compliant. By August 26, the auction decision was officially revoked. The figure of 1,822 billion VND, a sum that could represent a significant portion of a mid-sized province's annual public investment budget, vanished from the fiscal balance sheet.

The financial calculus has now completely changed. Instead of a large revenue from land sale, Long An ward proposes converting this land into a green park and square serving the community. This proposal is under review by the Tay Ninh provincial authorities. On an emotional level, turning a dilapidated stadium into a multi-functional green space sounds reasonable, even humane. But from a cash flow perspective, this is a fundamental shift: from an asset capable of generating substantial revenue (albeit one-time) to a recurring maintenance cost with no offsetting revenue. The businesses currently renting space here will have to relocate, meaning the ward budget loses a small but steady rental income stream.

What's notable is how the story is framed. "Losing a stadium" is transformed into "gaining a community space." The design is described with green belts, walking paths, and multi-functional spaces. This is a clever communication strategy, appealing to public sentiment rather than dry numbers. But for someone who has followed the sports market for 43 years like me, the important question is not whether the stadium should be converted, but why a valuable public asset was neglected to the point where conversion became the only viable option.

The truth lies in governance. This stadium was abandoned for years, with no level of government truly taking responsibility for its maintenance. The administrative boundary change from Long An to Tay Ninh may have created a vacuum of responsibility and budget. When it was no longer a priority for the old province but not yet integrated into the new province's plans, this asset fell into a state of administrative orphanhood. The result is a downward spiral that no one took responsibility for.

Looking further, the Long An Stadium story is not unique. Many provincial stadiums built in the 1980s-1990s across the country are facing functional obsolescence as the V.League raises licensing standards. If the conversion proposal is approved, Vietnam will lose another 20,000-seat stadium from its national football infrastructure inventory, reducing the region's capacity to host tournaments. This raises a bigger question: what clear criteria do we need to decide whether to retain or convert aging stadiums?

Ultimately, the most urgent risk is not policy but public safety. With peeling concrete, exposed steel reinforcement, and deteriorating walls, this stadium is a potential hazard to anyone entering dangerous areas. Regardless of the final decision, fencing off and restricting access to hazardous zones is an immediate necessity. As for the small traders currently operating here, they have received no official notice of relocation, only hearing through informal channels. They are willing to vacate when formally required, but the lack of transparency in the process creates unnecessary insecurity.

The transfer window is just the tip of the iceberg; the hidden cash flow is the real control panel. In this story, the hidden cash flow is not player transfer fees but the missed 1,822 billion VND, the maintenance costs accumulated over 40 years that no one paid, and the commercial rental income that will disappear when the park is built. People ask me who will emerge this year. The correct question is: who has been silently dying on the balance sheet? Long An Stadium has been silently dying on the local government's balance sheet for a long time, and that death began with a decision no one wanted to take responsibility for.

Age 59 taught me one thing: every summer has a truth buried under hundreds of headlines. The truth here is not whether the stadium should become a park, but why a public asset was neglected to the point of having no other choice. When the pandemic closed stadiums, I re-read the entire market operation and realized we had been wrong all along. And when a 40-year-old stadium is about to become a park, I realize that the problem is not what we build anew, but what we failed to maintain over the past 40 years. The question for Tay Ninh, and for all localities owning aging stadiums, is not "should we convert or not" but "what have we learned from this neglect to avoid repeating it with other public assets?" Contracts don't create eras; eras create contracts. And neglect works the same way—it doesn't create a decision, it creates an obligation to pay for what was not done.