CAND Sets Off: The Wall Called Discipline and the Dream of Promotion

Busan, a late summer afternoon, I sit writing about a team more than 3,000 kilometers away. Not because of the score, not because of the stars. But because I see in the Cong An Nhan Dan (CAND) club something very familiar: the way a collective is built not to conquer, but to be forbidden from falling. On September 11, CAND will step into their opening match of the 2026-2027 National First Division, hosting Long An at home. The objective is unambiguous: win the First Division and earn promotion to the V-League. But behind that target board lies an entire story about power, discipline, and walls built so hearts can beat together. People call this the Ministry of Public Security's team. But I call it a symphony of organized endurance. And the conductor of that symphony is Nguyen Duc Thang — the coach who led Viettel to the 2026 V-League title with a calculated, defense-first brand of football. Thang is not a man who builds castles in the air. He builds walls. His 2026 Viettel side didn't have the league's most flamboyant attack; they had the league's most solid defense. They scored fewer goals, but they also conceded fewer. They didn't keep spectators on the edge of their seats with slick combinations; they frustrated opponents with a defensive structure honed to every detail. Now, in the First Division — where many teams will choose massed defense — Thang brings a weapon few First Division clubs possess: the match-management experience of a champion. He knows when to push the line high, when to drop deep and protect a lead, and more importantly, he knows how to make his players believe that patience is ultimately rewarded. Looking at CAND's squad list, I see a deliberate blend. Goalkeeper Nguyen Dinh Trieu — a former national team player — is the last line of security, a wall that First Division clubs rarely have. Le Viktor, a Vietnamese-Czech player with European football foundations, brings a different tactical mindset. Minh Vuong and Thanh Nhan are experienced links in midfield and attack. And Pham Ly Duc, Pham Minh Phuc are young names full of hunger. This is not a team built to play beautifully. This is a team built to be promoted. And that is the biggest difference. I have followed Vietnamese football from a distant vantage point in Korea, through screens, through news feeds, through late-night calls with friends in Saigon and Hanoi. I remember the Kazan summer of 2026, when all of Busan erupted over Kim Young-gwon's goal against Germany. I remember the uncles around the noodle shop hugging and crying. And I realized something: Vietnamese football and Korean football, despite different levels, share the same pulse — the pulse of people finding themselves in the colors of a collective. CAND is such a collective. But they are also a special collective, because they are backed by a machinery of power. Minister of Public Security Luong Tam Quang has personally directed, the club chairman has pledged to "concretize the directives." That means the pressure comes not only from the stands, but from those who hold ultimate power. This is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it creates absolute focus and discipline. On the other, it turns the season into a battle where failure is not an option. If CAND doesn't get promoted, it won't just be a sporting failure; it will be a political failure. And in football, when pressure exceeds joy, teams easily lose themselves. I witnessed this with Eriksen, with Denmark, when they turned pain into strength. But I have also witnessed teams collapse under the weight of expectation. Which direction will CAND go? There is one detail that makes me think. The transfer of PVF-CAND to become Hung Yen club — a new team also competing in the First Division — creates a structure of two clubs within the Ministry of Public Security's ecosystem. This raises questions about the transparency of league governance. Will the VFF see this as a potential conflict of interest? Is there a clear separation of power and finances between the two clubs? But I also see a positive side. Bringing football to Hung Yen — a province without a recent professional club — is a welcome geographic expansion. It brings football closer to new fans, creates new stories, new chants. And that is what I always care about: not the score, but the people behind the score. I came for the score, but I stayed for the people behind the score. For CAND, those people are police officers — people accustomed to discipline, to following orders. But on the pitch, they must learn to make their own decisions, read the game themselves, take responsibility. That is not an easy transformation. Thang understands this. He is not just a tactical coach; he is a manager of men. He knows how to talk to veterans, how to ignite young players, how to create an atmosphere where discipline becomes freedom, not constraint. There are walls not built to block, but to make hearts beat together. I believe CAND is building such a wall. A wall of trust, of sacrifice, of the belief that if everyone stands on the same side, nothing can break through. The opening match against Long An will be the first test. A victory will create momentum, establishing their status as the number one contender. An unfavorable result will immediately raise doubts about whether the team is overhyped. In football, stories are often written from the first matches. But I don't care about the first match. I care about the twentieth, the twenty-sixth — the matches where fatigue accumulates, injuries appear, and spirit is tested to the limit. Those are the matches where a team built with money can collapse, but a team built with discipline will stand firm. CAND has money. They have power. They have experienced players. But do they have enough patience? Do they believe in the process, or will they demand immediate results? That is a question only time can answer. But I believe one thing: if CAND gets promoted, it won't be a shock. If they fail, it will be a sad story about wasted potential. I will follow them. Not because they are the Ministry of Public Security's team, but because they are a collective trying to write their own story. And in every story, win or lose, there are moments worth remembering. Kazan doesn't remember the goal; Kazan remembers how people cheered with all their hearts. Perhaps, one day, CAND's home stands will become such a Kazan — a place where people come not just to watch football, but to cheer with all their hearts. For now, ahead of them lies a long season. A season where every match is a brick. And the only question is: will they build a fortress, or a tomb of expectations? I bet on the fortress. Because I have seen such walls stand through countless storms. And because, in football as in life, things built with discipline tend to last longer than things built with emotion. An empty stadium only lacks people, but echoes never rest. And I believe the echoes from CAND's stands will travel far, very far, beyond the boundaries of the First Division.