Lucao's hat-trick and Hai Phong fanpage's statement: What drags down the boundary of professionalism?

On the evening of September 5, at the final whistle at Lach Tray Stadium, Lucas Vinicius stood in the center circle with a soaked shirt, looking at a group of Hai Phong fans who were hurling insults that cannot be printed. He had just scored a hat-trick against his former club — a team he once called home for two years. Not the brace he scored last season wearing The Cong – Viettel colors, not meaningless goals in a nothing match. This was V-League 2026-2027, Round 1, and Ninh Binh FC had just won 4-1 right at the home of their opponents. Lucao's celebration enraged a segment of Hai Phong supporters. Hours later, Fanpage HPFC Capital wrote: "Raise a dog to see if the dog is loyal." That post did not stay confined to a page with 7,800 followers — it was quickly screenshotted, spread across football forums, and became an endless controversy. The context goes beyond a single match. For me, someone who has observed V-League for years, this incident feels like a stratum of reality exposing two worlds coexisting in Vietnamese football. The first world is a developing professional environment: clubs recruit foreign players seasonally, contracts are negotiated by agents, players move freely like any other labor market in Europe. The second world is a passion-driven ecosystem in the stands — where a segment of supporters still view a player leaving their club as a sacred betrayal and hold "one-club loyalty" as a moral standard imposed even on foreigners who come to Vietnam to work. When Lucao wore the Hai Phong shirt from 2026 to 2026, he was expected to be the attacking spearhead. Goals, turn-and-shoot moves, chemistry with teammates — fans in Hai Phong had every reason to adore him. He left on a transfer to The Cong – Viettel and scored a brace right at Lach Tray. That season, nobody said anything significant. This time, wearing a newly promoted Ninh Binh shirt with huge ambitions, Lucao returned to score three goals. The difference lies not in the number of goals but in how the stands behaved. I have read countless articles about players being jeered when returning to old grounds. But comparing a human being fulfilling an employment contract to a "loyal dog" — that language does not belong to football. It belongs to a dark corner that professional football is trying to overcome. Look at the data. Lucao is not a youth product of Hai Phong, carries no bloodline of the city, no childhood memories tied to Lach Tray. He is an imported Brazilian player — an international laborer. Throughout his career, moving from club to club has been the norm. Fans understand that a player signing a two-year contract then departing after its conclusion is a commercial relationship. Clubs pay for performance, not for affection. When Lucao scored a hat-trick, he was doing his duty as an employee paid by Ninh Binh PC. To blame him for not refusing to score? To blame him for suppressing the ecstatic joy of winning with his current team? It is so illogical that it would not warrant debate. Yet that absurdity stirred a social media storm and revealed that while Vietnamese football has made rapid technical progress, its fan culture still contains deep gaps. I used to watch Serie A and see how Italian ultras deal with players leaving their clubs. Take Krzysztof Piątek, the Polish striker who scored in the Derby della Madonnina between AC Milan and Inter Milan — he was immediately mocked, taunted, even had objects thrown at him by Milan fans, but nobody wrote that they "raised a dog" hoping for loyalty. The difference lies in boundaries: jeers and teasing all exist within football's unwritten emotional rules, but degrading a professional player with comparisons to animals crosses the line of civility. I look at comments by Hai Phong fans on that same fanpage — "I feel ashamed for Hai Phong people for having such an admin" — and recognize that resistance is growing. It shows supporter culture is not standing still. But my view does not stop at judging one fanpage. Look deeper into Lucao's story. When he transferred from Hai Phong to The Cong – Viettel, then to Ninh Binh, Lucao is not an emotionless scoring machine. He celebrated at Lach Tray as an away player — an image that is not offensive, only a respect for his own emotions in a sporting moment. Would anyone among those insulting Lucao accept staying at a lower-paying company out of "loyalty"? Would anyone tell their boss they will refuse a job offer with triple salary to remain faithful? I can bet very few would. So why should a Brazilian player — who left his family and country behind to live in a foreign land for years to earn a living — be held to a moral standard that those making the demands could not themselves meet? What HPFC Capital probably fails to understand is that their harsh reaction creates a reverse effect. Before the match, few outside Hai Phong fandom knew of the page's existence. After the post "Raise a dog," they made themselves the center of online outrage, rejected even by fans of the same team. It is a media lesson: in the age of social media, an uncivil statement not only expresses an opinion but also shapes the brand of an entire fan community. There is an irony: the post intended to diminish Lucao instead elevated his name and increased public sympathy for him. Perhaps in their attack plan, all they truly achieved was proving that a substantial minority of Hai Phong fans remain unready for a truly professional football culture. A contrarian angle I want to raise: instead of merely criticizing HPFC Capital, direct responsibility toward Hai Phong FC's leadership and its official supporter organizations. Fanpages multiply rapidly. The club cannot control everything, but when a page with 7,800 followers calls itself "HPFC Capital" — and many could mistake it for an official channel — the club should publicly distance itself. If such posts go unchallenged, the image of the city's club will be dragged down by a small group. More importantly — what comes to my mind when I review Lucao's celebration on September 5 — players currently representing Hai Phong are also hurt. They are the ones competing with spirit against a former teammate, sharing changing rooms and battles. The animosity of the stands does not give them extra motivation. It creates pressure. I have been to Lach Tray and felt its rare, warm atmosphere in Vietnam. Hai Phong's stands have their own cheering culture — intense, passionate, full of identity. But precisely because it is strong and full of character, it must distinguish between fierce passion and civility. A Hai Phong fan cursing Lucao for "betrayal" may simply be carrying a burning heart for football. But when that love becomes distorted by language comparing a man to an animal, it will only harm the club they love. I have witnessed talented foreign players leave V-League because of intolerable social media pressure. Not pressure on the pitch, but the pressure of personal attacks disguised as fan loyalty. Looking ahead, V-League will continue to integrate. Quality rises, wages rise, and foreign players from Brazil, Argentina, Korea, and Europe will arrive in greater numbers. They come, contribute, and leave when contracts expire. That is the essence of modern football. The question is not whether fans should be happy when a former player returns to score, but how they prepare psychologically for this new game. In Europe, fans are not happy when former players score against them — but they respond with creative mocking, with humorous banners, not with posts comparing humans to dogs. That cultural gap must be filled from both sides: football administrators need to promote civil conduct, and fans need to develop an open perspective on the profession. Strata never deceive. They only trick those too impatient to dig. With Lucao and HPFC Capital, many see only the surface of a social media story. But dug deeper lies the struggle of a football nation moving from amateurism to professionalism. Each uncivil statement proves that part of the community remains on the far side of the line. Yet, the numerous comments on that very page criticizing the admin — those "ashamed fans" brave enough to speak up — signal that a wave of civility is rising. I do not know if Lucao read the hateful posts, and I do not need to know. Some things on the pitch speak for themselves. Three goals on his return to Lach Tray — a more convincing answer than any public statement. For those who still believe a foreign player leaving a club (simply for better wages) constitutes betrayal, I want to say: hold a mirror to your own life. Ask yourself if you would refuse a promotion opportunity just to stay "loyal" to your employer. Professional football is not a sacred marriage. It is a job, a career, a life for people to provide for their families and futures. It is time to see foreign players as international professionals and treat them with the respect every worker deserves. A living room becomes a gym because talent waits for no one to make a bed. And a graceless fanpage with 7,800 followers, no matter how hard it tries to stir waves, cannot change the flow of a league striving for professionalism. Look at the Round 1 matches this season: Ninh Binh FC — a newly promoted team — handled Hai Phong away from home. That is not magic; it is the result of proper investment. And Lucao has proven he is worth every dong he is paid. The match ended 4-1. That fanpage still had not deleted their post. Lucao is celebrating with his teammates somewhere in Hai Phong. And our football nation — still maturing — stands facing a decisive path, choosing which emotions to nurture. The whistle has blown. Football is a game of joy, not hatred. That lesson is, perhaps, not only for Lucao.