The Short Hair, the Mushin Spirit, and the Timeless Journey of Vietnam's Women's Kata Team

On the afternoon of August 22, at the national stadium of the host city of the 20th Asian Games, three young women – Nguyen Ngoc Tram, Bui Ngoc Nhi, and Hoang Thi Thu Uyen – had just completed their women's team kata performance. There was no roaring cheer, no joyful jumps like in other sports. They stood still, took deep breaths, and exchanged calm glances. When the score was announced, they nodded slightly, as if confirming that everything had gone according to plan. That is a moment I will never forget – not because of the medal, but because of the serene demeanor of people who had dedicated their entire youth to perfecting a martial arts routine rich in philosophy. This gold medal is Vietnam's first at the 20th Asian Games, and the second consecutive time they have won this event, after claiming victory in Hangzhou in 2026. But what impresses me is not just the number, but how they have maintained a tradition I have witnessed since the 1980s, when I began my sports journalism career. It is the tradition of short-cropped hair, of movements precise to the millimeter, and of a spirit that karate calls 'mushin' – a mind without attachment, a calm mind. Let us look at history. Nguyen Hoang Ngan, known as the 'queen of kata,' once won a silver medal at the Asian Games and a world championship gold in the 2000s. She was an icon of Vietnamese sports, famous for her short hair and calm competitive style. Later, Do Thi Thu Ha – a teammate of Hoang Ngan – joined her to win the Asian Championship in 2026. Now, Thu Ha is the head coach, continuing what Hoang Ngan left behind. And her students – Ngoc Tram, Ngoc Nhi, Thu Uyen – all share the same hairstyle, the same stance, the same breathing rhythm. This is no coincidence. This stability comes from a deep training system where coaches not only teach technique but also impart a life philosophy. Ngoc Tram, who has won gold at both Asian Games, once told me that the short hair is not just convenient for training, but also a way to connect with previous generations. 'The coaches are our idols, our close sisters. We share many commonalities, from hairstyle to beauty routines.' Her words show a bond that extends beyond the training mat into everyday life. But there is a detail few notice: the change in the team this time was a major challenge. This year, the women's team kata event had eight teams, double the number of the previous edition. Teams like Japan, South Korea, and China all have athletes trained rigorously from a young age. Vietnam was not considered a top favorite, but they showed remarkable composure. I remember during the score wait, I saw Ngoc Nhi – the 19-year-old – standing as still as a statue, her gaze distant. She showed no signs of nervousness. That is 'mushin' – an empty mind, free from attachment. 'Mushin' is a core concept in karate, rooted in Zen philosophy. When a martial artist achieves 'mushin,' they no longer think about winning or losing, only focus entirely on each movement. The Vietnamese women's kata team has been trained not only in technique but also in psychology. They practice meditation, breathing, and emotional control. This explains why they always maintain calmness in tense moments. The short hair is also a symbol of discipline. In many sports, athletes have hairstyles that express individuality, but here, all share the same cut. This creates a visual unity and is also a way to honor tradition. When I see an athlete with short hair, I immediately know they are a member of Vietnam's women's kata team. It is a brand, a legacy. The transition from coach Nguyen Hoang Ngan to Do Thi Thu Ha was a critical factor. Hoang Ngan moved to the Diplomatic Academy of Vietnam in October 2026, after years of dedication. Thu Ha, a former teammate of Hoang Ngan, took over the position. This meant there was no discontinuity in coaching philosophy. Thu Ha absorbed lessons from Hoang Ngan and passed them on to her students. This continuity is a huge advantage that many teams lack. I had the opportunity to watch a training session in Chiang Mai, where I live. The girls practiced with incredible precision. They repeated a movement hundreds of times, with coach Thu Ha beside them, adjusting the angle of a hand or the position of a foot. No one showed boredom. They treated it as a form of meditation. This meticulousness creates perfection, and perfection brings victory. Many might think this victory was easy because only 8 teams participated, and some were not strong. But I believe that is a misunderstanding. In karate, a small error can cost points, and the pressure of an Asian Games is immense. Moreover, changing two-thirds of the lineup was a huge challenge. Ngoc Nhi and Thu Uyen are only 19 and 20, and they had little time to blend with Ngoc Tram. Their ability to perform a synchronized kata down to the breath is a feat, impossible without serious training and team unity. I also reject the notion that the 2026 victory in Hangzhou was 'easy' because only 4 teams competed. Even with 4 teams, defeating Malaysia, Cambodia, and Brunei was not easy. Each team had its own challenging routines, and maintaining consistency throughout the performance was a test. They did it, and now with 8 teams, they did it again. That shows their solidity. Look at the opponents they overcame. Japan is often considered the king of karate, with refined techniques and perfect synchronization. South Korea is also strong, with fast and powerful movements. China has its own style. Vietnam competed against these teams and won. That proves they have not just luck but real strength. Technically, the team kata routine requires millimeter-perfect synchronization. Three people must execute simultaneously, same speed, same force, same breathing. A slight deviation can be penalized. The Vietnamese team trained to achieve that sync. I remember watching them practice, using a mirror to check every movement. They also recorded videos and analyzed each frame. Such meticulousness makes the difference. So, what happens next? I believe the future of Vietnamese karate lies in the hands of young girls like Bui Ngoc Nhi. She won a bronze in the individual kata earlier, and she displayed a rare maturity. With Thu Ha's guidance and the tradition built over generations, I am confident they will continue to succeed. But more importantly, they will become mentors, inspiring the next generation. As I left the stands, I met a veteran fan who had followed karate since the 1990s. He said: 'In the past, I saw Hoang Ngan compete, and she had absolute calm. Now, the young girls have the same calm. This reassures me.' I understood that this is a legacy, a continuity that never breaks. I think of my words when covering football: 'The media revolution can change how we watch football, but not how we love football.' Likewise, media can change how we view sports, but not how these girls love karate. They love it not for the medals, but because it is part of their life, their family, their heritage. I will continue to follow and record their steps, as a keeper of the beat. Because, as I said, 'I have kept the beat for this team for four decades. That beat has never belonged to me.' It belongs to these girls who wear the martial arts uniform, with short hair and an unbreakable 'mushin' spirit. Looking back, I realize this victory is not just a medal but a lesson in perseverance, discipline, and respect for tradition. It is a message to all who pursue sports: build a solid system, pass on core values, and trust the young generation. In karate, as in life, endurance is rewarded. The girls have left, but their image remains – the short hair, the calm eyes, and a natural confidence that needs no display. They made history, not only for themselves but for a whole nation. And I, as a journalist who has witnessed many generations, can only say: that is a miracle that only karate can create.