The perfect son — but no talent, said Dad. Now this teen is en route to conquering the world.

New Straits Times

04-05-2025

IT'S a bit surreal, to be honest. One moment, I'm brushing shoulders with the likes of Agassi, the Johns brothers, McGuffin, Bright, Buckner and Wang — all pickleball (and tennis) royalty converging in Vietnam.
Fast-forward a few weeks and here I am: drenched in heat that's every bit as fierce as the tournament's name — The PANAS Cup 2025.
Court side in Setia Alam, Selangor, the temperature is practically boiling over, and out walks Quang Duong, or QD — Asia No. 1 and world No. 6 pickleball player.
Cap perched on his shaven head, he approaches me with a cautious smile; the kind that says he's still sizing up the moment. Right behind him, in complete contrast, is his younger brother Bao, bursting with a grin wide enough to rival the court itself. If QD is a measured sonata, Bao is jazz improv on a sugar high.
Fresh off their headline appearance at the event — an exciting showcase hosted by 9Pickle that drew together Malaysia's top pickleball talent and a slew of local celebrities bitten by the pickleball bug — the Duong brothers still had time for one last detour.
Before retreating to their hotel and the tantalising promise of Malaysian street food, they have graciously agreed to be "grilled".
Not on the court this time, but by yours truly.
By now, the once-thundering stands have thinned out. The crowd, largely comprising Malaysians, had cheered with warmth and good humour for the brothers, despite their own countrymen being in the draws.
The gregarious Bao, the 14-year-old wildcard, doesn't carry the weight of global rankings or media expectations.
He's dressed accordingly too — rocking a bright turquoise T-shirt and shorts like he's about to hit a beach party.
QD, meanwhile, is decked out in an understated grey sports attire — less "chill" and more "let's get down to business".
The latter carries himself with a quiet reserve. Warm, but measured. His younger brother? He's the kind of kid who probably came out of the womb smirking.
"I'm more talented than him!" Bao fires off with zero hesitation when asked what sets them apart.
He tosses a mischievous look at his big brother, who just shakes his head with a resigned grin.
"Yeah, he's the talent," concedes QD, before adding cheekily: "But I've got the discipline."
It's a sentiment echoed by their father — and coach — Duc Duong, the man behind the 19-year-old's meteoric rise.
Just hours earlier, I caught up with Duc in the grandstand, where he was observing the game with a handphone in hand, furiously scrolling on YouTube matches and casually dropping truth bombs.
"Oooh, QD? No talent. None!" he replied, laughing heartily, before adding swiftly: "But he's disciplined. Works harder than anyone. Bao just plays."
Mentally, QD is incredibly strong — he doesn't break under pressure.
"Every day he trains, and every day he proves he can perform. When the stakes are high, when the pressure hits, Bao tends to falter. QD rises," Duc confided proudly.
And somehow, that balance works. One son grinding away to the top of the world, the other dancing around the edges — definitely having a lot of fun.
My mind travels back to my earlier conversation with the head of the Duong family…
It certainly has been a dizzying ascent — from backyard drills in suburban Los Angeles to centre court showdowns in Asia.
But if you ask Duc, it was all part of the plan.
In the VIP section above the sweltering grandstand, the affable gentleman sits like a general surveying a battlefield.
Below, his sons make their entrance. The crowd roars their appreciation as Bao flashes his signature grin, while QD walks in with the steely calm of someone who's been through fire — and emerged totally polished.
"He's more like his mum," Duc says, throwing me a proud grin.
I'm standing next to him, sweating buckets but excitedly waiting for the exhibition match to begin.
His voice rising just above the din of the match announcer, the patriarch continues: "QD? He's shy, quiet. But Bao? Like me. All energy!"
The brothers, five years apart, couldn't be more different. One is already a global contender.
The other? A wildcard wrapped in charisma, untamed and unbothered. But the foundation they stand on is unmistakably solid: built by sweat, sacrifice and one man's relentless belief in discipline over talent.
IVY LEAGUE TO COURT
Rewinding back to Duc's own journey, it began thousands of miles away, both geographically and philosophically. Born in Vietnam, he moved to the United States at age 14, his mother in tow, after the death of his university-professor father when he was just 2.
He studied hard, pursued excellence and eventually became a chief technology officer in an American company, overseeing investments across Asia.
But by the time QD was 6, he was done chasing boardrooms.
"I kind of retired," confides Duc, adding: "I decided I wanted to train my little boy to be a tennis player."
He wasn't kidding. This was no "weekend lessons and snacks after practice" kind of parenting.
Before his boys could even walk, they were already in the pool — swimming lessons to develop coordination, stamina and, as Duc insists, height.
"Swimming makes them grow tall," he exclaims earnestly.
QD was the prototype of a plan meticulously designed before he was even born.
"They had no say," Duc says, before adding: "Before they could walk, they could swim. Then tennis. Everything else came after."
For years, when the children were growing up, the family bounced between Vietnam and the US, spending half the year training under Vietnamese skies before settling permanently in Los Angeles once QD turned 12. Tennis was the path. Until, quite literally, it broke him.
An injury during a pro tennis event derailed everything. A bad wrist. A career in limbo. But out of that uncertainty came opportunity. Recalls Duc, brows furrowing: "I told him, find something else. And that was when he found pickleball."
PRODIGY TO POWERHOUSE
At 19, QD is already the highest-ranked Asian male in global pickleball. His meteoric rise is built on the same values his father drilled into him since 6: repetition, structure, discipline. No frills. No shortcuts.
"He has no talent," Duc reiterates with a straight face, just as he did earlier. "It's all hard work. Bao? He's got the talent. QD has the grind."
And grind he does. From dawn to dusk, every movement is measured, every shot rehearsed.
Duc runs the whole operation — agent, coach, manager, academic supervisor... Every dollar QD earns is invested. Every travel plan scrutinised. Even flights come with lessons in humility.
Chuckling, Duc shares: "I tell them, we don't fly business class. Not yet. You need to suffer. Know how the normal people live. That's how you teach them how to stay grounded."
WARRIOR'S TEMPERAMENT
If QD is the stoic engine powering through adversity, Bao is the breeze that flits in and disrupts the silence.
He already commands a magnetic presence, even if his game is still raw. Where QD plots, Bao plays. Where QD drills, Bao imitates.
"He copies everything," Duc says, elaborating: "He doesn't train the same way. But he learns fast. He's talented."
QD respects the free-spirited nature of his brother. Meanwhile, Bao admires QD's steel. It's not rivalry. It's rhythm. They're dancing to the same beat — just in wildly different tunes.
"I'm stricter with QD," admits Duc, before adding: "If he misses one shot, I raise my voice. Bao? I let it go. Bao plays for fun. QD plays to survive."
What separates the older sibling isn't just discipline. It's the unshakable core beneath the surface.
Shares Duc: "QD doesn't get angry, doesn't complain. Even after everything I put him through… he just shakes things off."
But that unflappability can also be a weakness. Continues the patriarch: "I told him, you need to learn who's on your side. Don't be too nice. People take advantage."
It's the double-edged sword of humility. The same quality that makes QD admired on court can make him vulnerable off it. But as Duc points out, he's learning. Fast.
BEATING BEN JOHNS
There are wins that make noise. And then there are wins that echo across an entire sport.
For QD, that moment came on Jan 11 last year, in the sun-baked courts of Palm Springs, California.
At just 17 years old, the Vietnamese-American phenom, then seeded 17, walked onto the court at the PPA Hyundai Masters and did the unthinkable: he beat pickleball's most decorated male player, Ben Johns.
Johns, the face of professional pickleball, the standard every rising star measures themselves against was supposed to be unbeatable — until he wasn't.
Duc, watching from the sidelines with the same analytical intensity he's honed over years of engineering his son's development, confides that he wasn't too surprised.
"I was happy, of course. But I expected it. I remember Ben was a little 'bigger' (in weight) then. He wasn't as fast."
Shares Duc: "We'd looked at Ben's cat-and-mouse games, worked on a few things, including the new serve… everything. We watched footage on loop. Drilled scenarios. Over and over. And QD was able to capitalise on a few line calls too."
Just months earlier, in the semi-finals at the 2023 Baird Denver Open, QD had faced Johns but was dismantled — straight sets, no room to breathe.
"At that time, QD wasn't ready," Duc confides, adding: "He didn't understand how to play Ben yet. That loss taught us a lot."
That victory at the Hyundai Masters launched QD into a new stratosphere — suddenly, every match carried more weight. Expectations ballooned. Media attention intensified. Fans, once curious, were now watching his every move.
Still, the approach never changed.
Shares Duc: "We don't dwell on wins. Because Ben is out there, training harder now. Everyone's levelling up. That's why we keep grinding. Because winning once doesn't mean you win again."
Despite the relentless grind, QD is no machine. Off-court, he's a self-declared foodie who once dreams of becoming a Michelin-starred chef.
Chuckling, Duc shares: "I told him once that if tennis didn't work out, he could try culinary school!"
Their post-match ritual says it all: food. "That's when they can abuse me," Duc jokes. "After a match, everything breaks loose. We relax, we eat, we just enjoy being family. And QD loves to cook!"
For most people, beating Ben Johns would be the pinnacle. A line to etch in gold on your resume.
For Duc, it was just a milestone, one of many. Because for him, success isn't a ranking. Not a podium. Not even that earth-shaking win in Palm Springs.
So, how do you measure success for your son? I can't help asking.
Duc pauses. Not out of hesitation, but as though he's weighing something deeper than a trophy.
"As a human being," he begins, "I want QD to give back. That's success to me. Not how much money he makes. Not how many titles.
"I tell him all the time: you can stop playing pickleball at 25. Do business, invest, go into something else — but make sure you help people."
It's a striking perspective from someone who's spent nearly two decades in pursuit of excellence. But it makes perfect sense when you look at the full scope of the "Duong method". Every detail, every dollar, every discipline has been about shaping not just a champion, but a citizen.
"My kids, they may have fame — but they don't have money," confides Duc, chuckling heartily. Eyes lighting up, he adds: "I invest all of QD's prize money. Every penny. If he wants to eat, he comes to me and asks."
It sounds harsh. But it's not about control — it's about character and keeping the children grounded.
And grounded is exactly what QD remains. Even after beating the best player in the world, he didn't let the win change him.
"We don't dwell on the ranking. When he was playing tennis, I use to block them out anyway. I just told him to focus on training. That's his job."
The philosophy is simple, but profound. Discipline. Humility. Responsibility. For Duc, the true test of success isn't what his son achieves on the court — it's how he lives off it.
"Being a successful player is one thing. But to be a good human being? That's harder. That's what I want. That's what I teach."
On what advice he'd give to parents or kids hoping to replicate QD's success, Duc replies: "Discipline. It's everything. Train them young. Don't give them too much freedom. Guide them. Make them strong. Life will test them, so you have to ensure they're ready."
As the minutes slip away and I sense my time with Duc drawing to a close, I pose him my last question, intent on playing the devil's advocate: "QD sounds like the perfect son. But is he really?
Duc smiles. "QD is the perfect son," he replies, after a long reflective pause, a flicker of emotion breaking through. I sense a heaviness in his voice now.
"And yet... I feel for him," adds Duc.
Another pause ensues, before he continues: "When people interview me about this, I get emotional. Because I know what he's been through. Since the age of 6, he's been training — day and night. I put him through programme after programme, pushing him harder than most could endure. Not many would have made it through. But he did."
Eyes misting with pride, Duc concludes: "That's how tough he is. That's what makes him special. QD is a good son. A really good son."