From a billiard table to tactical space: Vietnam's struggle at the Three-Cushion World Cup

When the Vietnamese player stepped into the Three-Cushion World Cup semi-final, fans expected exquisite shots and viral moments. But after rewatching the footage, I saw a single turning point: he had a break opportunity at the 12th shot, but instead chose a defensive play, losing the tactical grip. At 59, after 43 years in sports, I still believe football is a game of one moment, and three-cushion billiards is the same. But that moment is not about hitting the ball – it’s about where you leave the cue ball. In 2026, during a summer assisting a German coach, I learned that pressing is not anger; it is a calculation. My colleagues and I counted every movement and every square meter of space. Now, analyzing billiards, I apply the same thinking. On a three-cushion table, it is not eleven players running over grass, but a single cue ball traveling between four rails. Yet the principle is identical: you cannot score points if you fail to control space. Many Vietnamese players possess excellent individual technique. Trần Quyết Chiến, Nguyễn Đức Anh Chiến have often stood on the podium. Their shots are polished, their attacking ability varied, but their win rate against top European players has not improved proportionally. I used to tell my Liverpool students: run less, think more. That lesson applies perfectly: don’t rely on pure feeling; map the shot before you strike. A long carom match of 40 points is decided by what happens in the first 20. As in football, the team that controls the opening minutes gains a decisive edge. My data show Vietnamese players average 0.6–0.8 points per inning, but against the world top 10, that drops to 0.4 – because they are forced into complex positions. This is not to deny Vietnam’s progress. On the contrary, the domestic development is impressive, comparable to Dutch or Belgian systems. But there is a blind spot: data is not yet treated as a strategic asset. European teams use table sensors to log each ball path and contact angle; we still rely on video and oral wisdom. I am not saying data is everything, but without it, you cannot pinpoint your weakness. Take a recent quarterfinal: Vietnam led 20–15, but then scored no points in four innings because the opponent controlled the table. The reason was not weak attack; it was poor reaction when pressed. If we apply the pressing model, you learn: when you lose the cue ball, you must immediately execute a decisive break, not hesitate. That is a calculation, not recklessness. Contrary to popular belief, the problem is not technique. I saw a young player training in the Netherlands; his technique was fine, but when he met a Belgian pro, he got trapped in his opponent’s rhythm. The opponent shifted pace constantly, not trying to score many points, but preventing you from scoring. Like a high press in football, they forced you to lose the ball in your own half. In billiards, they 'close the table' – leaving your cue ball in a dead position. What is the solution? Perhaps a specialized space-analysis system for carom. In football, we built expected goals; in billiards, we need expected space – before each shot, calculate the probability of controlling the next position over two or three shots. Top players like Jérémy Bury or Marco Zanetti excel, not because they hit many balls, but because they choose smart paths. Space is not the only variable. There is also time – the pause between your first and third shot. Watch elite players: they move quickly but stay mentally still. When they bend down without shooting, you can see them simulating the next position. That is a computer brain on the table. Vietnam is at a crossroads. The success of veterans is a catalyst, but to sustain a high level, they need a revolution in data and spatial thinking. Do not rely solely on instinct. I do not watch matches from the stands. I count the space between two positions. On the table, that is the area between the cue ball and the target, and the angle of free path. A player who counts space may lose on technique but will win on intelligence. And when the pitch falls silent, I can hear the cracking of a system that refuses to change – here, of a coaching staff that demands pure accuracy rather than smart play. The future of Vietnamese three-cushion billiards lies not in creating more brilliant strikers, but in educating players who use their minds. Only then will players like Trần Quyết Chiến be properly succeeded. Only then will we not just be strong, but a genuine force. It is time to ask not 'who hits most often?' but 'who leaves the cue ball in a way that denies the opponent?' The answer will lift Vietnam to the top.