One of the things I was looking forward to most before coming here was getting the chance to train in one of the country's Muay Thai (Thaiboxing) clubs (you may remember me from such columns as, 'Martial arts for the uninitiated'). I had been training away in a gym in Ireland on-and-off for well over two years and while I've never fought in a competition, the training itself was something I've always very much enjoyed. Spending a significant amount of time in the sport's ancestral home without linking up with a club was out of the question, so after a couple of weeks of acclimatisation (drinking) I wandered into a gym not far from my then residence on the holiday island of Phuket.
Muay Thai is predominantly a pursuit of Thais from poorer areas, so none of my work colleagues had any real knowledge of it. However, a particularly plucky member of staff called Jeab decided that she would come along to see if the farang who talked a good game could keep up with her countrymen. Upon hearing the news that their elder sister was about to take up Thailand's notoriously grueling fight form as a hobby, her younger brothers insisted on coming along. And so it was that the four of us arrived, three Thais who had never tried Muay Thai and an Irish guy who was borderline obsessed with it.
The biggest difference between Muay Thai gyms in Ireland and their Thai equivalent is that the Thai ones are for full-time professional fighters. Kids start training as young as five or six and after a token effort at schooling the best are kept on and fight regular bouts. The fights are often gruesome affairs with punches, kicks, elbows, knees, grappling and throwing all permitted. As they get older the frequency with which these guys enter the ring accelerates and its not uncommon for a fighter to clock up well over 200 bouts before retiring, body ruined, at around 25. Fighters however, are paid quite well by Thai standards and the superstardom that awaits the country's finest means Muay Thai is one of the few genuine opportunities youngsters have to escape the poverty that grips much of the country. But the flipside in a country with no social welfare system means that if you don't fight, you and your family don't eat. Its an equation that makes the Thais thoroughly fearsome in the ring.
It was a good 40 degrees on the day we arrived in the gym, which was basically a tin roofed structure housing a ring, some punch bags and assorted equipment all held up by four posts and no walls. After our party was paired off with a trainer each – mine was the burly joker of the bunch who went by the amazingly apt name of Bam – we got to work. Our warm up consisted of skipping for 15 minutes and by the end of it I was so exhausted that downing tools and going home seemed the only realistic option.
However, the thought of the jovial abuse I would have to deal with from the office girls upon my return to work the following Monday drove me on and next, we moved onto some padwork. Bam strapped the large Muay Thai pads to his forearms and led me to a sunbaked courtyard to one side of the gym. Just standing under the sun was tough – the ground itself had reached a farcical temperature that my barefeet struggled to endure and the dazzling glare meant opening my eyes beyond a squint was a major challenge. Sadly, the pads went up and it was time to start hitting them. Bam seemed happy with the fact that I wasn't completely new to the game and beyond a few minor pointers was relatively content my execution of the basics. My stamina however, was a major cause for concern as after the first five minute round I was soaking wet and struggling to keep my eyelids up, never mind my fists. But we ploughed on nonetheless – and after reaching the third I was permitted to go back inside, where incidentally, my Thai buddies had remained throughout. In my disheveled, sun-stroked head it was all a conspiracy but I was later told the reason behind it – they as beginners needed to work on technique while fitness was my main concern.
The rest of the session was taken up with rounds of shin-kicking one of the heavy bags that lined the building followed by a round of 'clinch sparing'. When two boxers clinch in a fight the referee moves in to break them up. In Muay Thai however, this forms an integral part of the discipline. The idea is to work your hands around the back of your opponents head via a combination of sly little elbow strikes, uppercuts and brute force. Once you have your hands in the required position you can then start launching knees into your opponent's torso, pulling them by the kneck into each strike. It's every bit as brutal as it sounds, but by the grace of God I was paired with an overweight Scandinavian who hadn't a notion. Not only did he fail to land any decent shots but his body shape meant I could hit him without bruising my knees. So, exhausted but with that dreamy sense of satisfaction you get from working your arse off at any given sport, we all headed to the beach. Probably the biggest plus though, was that all three of the Thais I had in tow had, like me, fallen head-over heels in love with the sport they had previously ignored.
