When Data Goes Blank: The Lesson of Honesty in Football Analysis

Last weekend, I received a 12-page analysis from a colleague via email. The cover title was grand: “Comprehensive Assessment.” In the football industry, this type of document usually contains tactical data, player metrics, transfer values, or match predictions. But upon opening, all the content inside displayed the cold symbol: N/A – Not Available. No player names, no technical metrics, no head-to-head context. Worse, there was not even a single number cited from a reliable source. I laughed. What is a sports analysis without data? It is a paradox: readers always seek information to satisfy their curiosity, but the analyst has to deal with having nothing to analyze. In many minds, sports is always associated with hot numbers: goals, passes, possession percentage, and recently xG (expected goals), PPDA (passes allowed before a pressing action). Without those numbers, we easily fall into subjective, emotional judgments – but that goes against the spirit of journalism that I have pursued for 41 years. In 2026, while still working in Shanghai, I wrote an analysis of Vũ Lỗi, a winger for SIPG, based on GPS data. His off-ball running distance reached 6.3 km per game, 41% higher than the league average. These numbers were not born out of thin air; they came from sensor technology and meticulous multi-source comparison. Thanks to that, my article quickly went viral, bringing a new perspective on an underrated player. But if I didn't have that dataset, would I have written it? If I had to fabricate numbers to serve my narrative, I would have betrayed the very principles I hold sacred. This leads to one of the biggest lessons from the 2026 World Cup. Spain dominated possession with over 70% possession rate. The media praised them as the number one contender. But I noticed an anomaly in their match against Iran: Spain's PPDA was 14.5 – meaning they let opponents make 14.5 passes before pressing. This suggested that the control was only cosmetic, not substantive. My article titled “The team that controls the ball but does not control the match” became a phenomenon. But if I hadn't cross-referenced data and context, I would easily have got caught up in the wave of praise. Honesty in analysis demands that we recognize opposing numbers as well. In reality, situations lacking data are not rare in football. During transfer windows, rumors spread like a storm, and fans constantly ask: “Which player will this club sign?”, “Who is leaving?” But most of these rumors are based on a single anonymous source, lacking verification. If a journalist rushes to publish, even just a guess, they may create a wave of impact on the transfer market – even if the information is false. One of the most severe mistakes of modern sports media is the race for news speed. When not yet verified, some outlets use AI tools to generate dozens of articles based on a single rumor. They think that adding a commentary paragraph, some imaginary quotes, is enough to fill the gap. This is extremely dangerous. It leads to the production of baseless “analyses,” polluting the information environment, and disorienting readers. That's why I always respect colleagues who, when lacking data, dare to say: “I don't know” or “We don't have enough information to make a judgment.” It requires courage, because no one wants to admit their limitations in the information age. Let's go back to that “Comprehensive Assessment” document. After my initial laughter, I sat down and thought. It turns out, N/A is not a failure. It is a powerful message: a writer cannot analyze without data. They refuse to give an opinion just to please the reader. They prefer to remain silent rather than speak irresponsibly. For a market like Vietnam, where football is considered the king of sports, fans deserve analyses that are in-depth, built on clear data and verified sources. So to avoid the so-called “bullshit” in media, writers should ask themselves before publishing: Where does my data come from? Is it trustworthy? Is it complete with context or just a fragment of numbers? In chess, you cannot make a move without looking at the whole board. Football is the same. A pressing action is not just the number of sprints; it is a question about the opponent's tactics. A transfer number cannot stand alone; it must come with contract details, player form, and club finances. In a conversation with a European scout in 2026, he admitted that my 20,000-word analysis of Dutch wingers was more valuable than a hundred prefilled template reports. The reason: I dared to leave blank the parts where I did not have solid data. This honesty helped him see risks others often overlook. This shows that in analysis, refusing to make a judgment when data is lacking is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of wisdom. Then why do we often accept articles with no real content, full of fabricated numbers? Because we fear incompleteness? Or because media platforms race to retain readers? Actually, once you – journalists, football writers – admit that there are topics that cannot be analyzed without enough data, you will be trusted by readers. They will return because they know what you write has been verified. Of course, “no data” does not mean “nothing to say.” You can explore what your eyes see, what players say, or subtle changes on the training ground. However, the difference still lies in the boundary between reliable information and emotional inference. When a coach says his team is having physical problems, an analyst can observe and prove that through distance data over the last three matches. Without that data, we can still visually note fatigue in the final minutes. But we should not conclude it is due to heavy training without evidence. A recent example: Vietnamese media was constantly reporting about the potential transfer of a foreign striker after he scored in two consecutive matches. People analyzed that he deserved a pay raise, but they ignored the fact that both goals came from penalties – a crucial piece of information that was forgotten. If journalists only look at the number of goals and ignore the context, they skew the narrative. The same happens when a player has high pressing numbers but fails to recover the ball. Aren't we mistaken when we think running more is always better? Data helps us distinguish between real effort and ineffective effort. In modern football, where numbers dictate tactics and transfers, surrendering to data gaps seems like failure. But just like in chess, sometimes the smartest move is not to move. Waiting for more information, refusing to make a judgment when understanding is incomplete, is a way to protect your accuracy. When the entire picture is not yet apparent, an early analysis is just painting legged snakes. In March this year, when a match between two top European teams was postponed due to logistical reasons, many sports media outlets panicked and released predicted lineups based on old information. As for me, I received a response from the editorial board with a note: “Do not imagine if you do not have new data.” This is very similar to that N/A assessment. It encourages us to be honest about what we don't know. On the other hand, N/A is also a signal to ask: why isn't data available yet? Is it because the collection source overlooked it, or is the issue too new to be studied? When that happens, instead of writing an analysis, we might write an interview or issue a note to open the way for further research. This is another approach – turning a deficiency into an opportunity for discovery. In my memory, in 2026 and 2026, when I was still a chess commentator, I witnessed the classic finals where players like Viktor Kramnik and Garry Kasparov changed history. At that time, there were no deep tactical analysis computers like today. The players relied on intuition and opening knowledge. But after each game, they spent hours reviewing variations, comparing with other matches to understand why a promising move failed. That spirit is important. It permeates my approach to football: never make a conclusion before I have looked at at least three different data sources. One thing that makes me sad is the disappearance of “opposing view” sections. Today, a journalist can quote two numbers and dissect a match, but they often forget to place them in tactical context. We need to remember that the value of data is not in the numbers themselves but in the story they tell. That story can be about a forgotten player, or about pressure causing a collapse in the 80th minute. In the transfer market, one of the things I often warn about is the temptation to use a high price to stir up readers. But if you don't look at contract details, signing bonuses, and actual wages, you can completely misunderstand a deal. And if you don't have those details, you should explicitly say “we are awaiting club confirmation.” Only then do you show professionalism. Additionally, data does not always determine a player's value. There are factors like leadership skills, chemistry with teammates, or influence in the dressing room – things that are difficult to quantify. But an analyst can create a qualitative index to sketch those. Without information about these factors, we should not hastily attach €20 million or €50 million to the definition of success. Instead, let's draw up a series of questions: does he run the required kilometers per game, can he adapt to new training drills? In the end, the biggest lesson I learned from that N/A document is humility. As a sports journalist in Vietnam like me, perhaps not everyone remembers my name from my articles about Chinese football or the transfer market in a few windows. But what I want to leave for the next generation is: be the one who says “I need more time to find data” before every article. Let the numbers speak – but never let them obscure the fact that you need to expand your references. Sports is always full of surprises. When fans follow a match, they want a quick result. A good sports newspaper does not need to answer immediately. They can sit back, wait, and in the emptiness of data, they may find better questions than hasty answers. And sometimes, an empty analysis like N/A is exactly what helps us realize that we are facing a big problem that needs a real investigation rather than a few hundred words next to a match. Sooner or later, we have to believe that a writer should not produce numbers just to appear opinionated. Set aside your ego, listen to the data and, more importantly, listen to the gaps that the data has not filled. Because only then can we truly be a responsible sports journalist – a storyteller through data but also someone who acknowledges the power of the word “I don't know,” one of the rare honesties this industry still lacks. For now, if you see an article based on subjective judgments, ask: “Where is your data?” And if you are a writer, don't be afraid to say: “I don't have an answer.” It is in that moment on the edge of information that you can see the most complete picture.