Why Ivanković is still in charge

After the 0–7 defeat to Japan, Branko Ivanković followed it with another painful result: China lost 1–2 to Saudi Arabia despite Saudi Arabia playing with ten men. For many fans, that was the breaking point. Calls for him to be sacked have been everywhere.

The Japan match could still be explained, at least partly, as a collapse caused by a huge gap in player quality. But the loss to Saudi Arabia was different. That one had much more to do with coaching: in-game management, substitutions, and the failure to respond when the situation was clearly in China’s favor.

In the second half, facing a Saudi side down a man, China’s bench reacted too slowly. The opponent used substitutions to create a physical edge, while China, despite having the numerical advantage, somehow ended up being dragged into a rhythm that suited Saudi Arabia. A match that should have been there to take became another reversal. It was the kind of performance that makes the old saying feel painfully accurate: one incompetent general exhausts the whole army.

And yet the final round of Asian World Cup qualifying still has to go on. Whether Ivanković should be replaced depends less on fan anger than on how the Chinese Football Association views the rest of the campaign.

Judging by the outcome, the CFA has chosen the most conservative route: keeping him.

That decision is frustrating, but it is not hard to understand. There are three practical reasons.

First, the national team’s public image is at a low point, and its commercial value has fallen with it. Sponsorship income is no longer what it once was, which makes it far harder to attract a high-profile coach with a high salary.

Second, Chinese football is going through a level of damage and distrust it has rarely experienced before. The players are under nationwide scrutiny, and the pressure around the team is enormous. Under these circumstances, how many established coaches would willingly step into this mess?

Third, timing matters. If Ivanković were dismissed now, there would be less than a month before the next matches. That would almost certainly mean appointing an interim coach. But one month is not enough for a temporary manager to build anything meaningful. And once the interim job ended, China would still have to go through the full process of finding a new permanent coach.

So the situation is simple: the CFA may not be able to pay enough to attract a major name; the job itself may scare away serious candidates; and there is not enough time for a new coach to settle in anyway.

More importantly, changing the coach blindly is not necessarily a cure. Marcello Lippi already proved that Chinese football’s chronic problems cannot be solved simply by hiring a world-class manager. If even a coach of that level could not rescue the team from its deeper structural issues, then it is even less realistic to believe that a hurried appointment now would suddenly fix everything.

It may be better to accept reality: study the situation carefully, take enough time, and choose the coach who is genuinely suited to Chinese football, rather than rushing into another emotional, short-term replacement.

Respecting football is not an empty slogan

Sun Jihai once said that if he had a superpower, he would want to change how football is understood in China: less mockery, less abuse. If everyone respected football, then the sport would have a real environment in which it could grow.

That sentence sounds simple, but it points to something fundamental. Chinese football is not short of anger. It is not short of jokes, insults, or dramatic proposals after every defeat. What it lacks is an environment where the game itself is treated seriously enough for people to keep investing time, patience, and trust in it.

A football culture cannot be built only through outrage after losses. Nor can it be built by demanding that players “try harder” every time the national team collapses. Respect does not mean refusing to criticize. It means understanding that football development is a long process involving schools, communities, families, clubs, coaches, leagues, and markets. Without that basic recognition, every defeat becomes just another public execution.

The three mountains blocking youth development

The youth system remains one of the biggest problems in Chinese football. Three obstacles are especially obvious.

First, the level of grassroots coaching is too low. Without good scouts and good teachers, it is difficult to discover and develop talented players. A fine horse still needs someone who can recognize it.

Second, the pathway for elite players is incomplete. For too many children, “retiring at 12” becomes the helpless outcome. They may love the game, they may have some ability, but there is no clear route from school or local training into a higher level of football.

Third, the system is too impatient and too distorted. At the grassroots level, fairness, transparency, and basic sporting logic are often missing. In some places, families feel that children cannot get opportunities unless money changes hands. That pushes poorer children away from football. It also reverses the purpose of youth development: instead of patiently helping children grow, the system rushes them, selects them too early, and forces short-term results.

This is not how a healthy football base is formed. A national team cannot be separated from the soil that produces its players.

Heavy-handed punishment is not a real solution

After humiliating defeats, some people call for “severe measures” against the national team, even suggesting administrative or judicial intervention. Much of that is not really a serious proposal; it is anger speaking. Treating such comments as formal policy ideas can feel as absurd as seriously debating someone’s complaint that “the Earth should just explode.”

Still, behind the noise, there are two points worth taking seriously.

The first is that the football environment matters. A functioning football system requires sport, education, and the economy to work together. It cannot rely only on individual fighting spirit, discipline, or slogans about national honor.

The second is that a healthy league gives young players something visible to aim for. Children may love football, but parents usually care about whether that interest can become a future. If the league follows rules, respects market logic, develops gradually, and allows players to make a living, then more parents will be willing to let their children play. If that happens, Chinese football still has a chance to recover.

Of course, this argument becomes more complicated when you watch a team like Palestine draw with South Korea. Palestine does not have a stable sporting, educational, or economic environment in the ordinary sense. War and instability have not prevented them from producing moments of resilience on the pitch. That makes the discussion less tidy. But exceptions do not erase the broader need for structure; they only remind us that football also contains will, identity, and unpredictability.

What can be learned from Japan

There is a line that captures one contrast sharply: “China has too many clever people, and not enough hot-blooded fools.”

Japanese football offers many lessons, especially in schools. Once you look into the details, it becomes clear that campus football there is not just a school activity. It is something supported by schools, communities, and parents together.

The seed of valuing sport was planted as early as the Meiji Restoration. Over time, that became a broad public atmosphere of participation. On top of that came frequent training and competition in school football, followed by proper places for amateur, semi-professional, and professional players to go. Then came a high-level professional league that could operate in a relatively healthy way.

Japan’s rise did not come from one miracle generation or one genius coach. It came from layers of work: participation, competition, pathways, leagues, and a culture that treats sport as part of education and society. That is why Japanese football has been able to keep moving upward.

The hard road has only begun

What Chinese fans and football people want is not simply to win every match. Losing is not the only problem. The deeper hope is that the national team can feel shame after failure, turn that shame into effort, and find a real direction for improvement.

That requires getting rid of the noise that does nothing but damage the possibility of progress. It requires a clearer understanding of where Chinese football actually stands and what it actually lacks.

In plain terms: give up illusions, lower expectations, extend the time frame, and do the difficult work step by step.

Chinese football’s ordeal is not close to ending. It may only just be beginning.