Sean's email write-up of Songkhla fight, June 2005:
Right. In case you don't know, I disappeared off the face of the planet as of Wednesday last week and have only recently emerged to discover an extensive backlog of emails I need to reply to. Now I'm just going to do one condensed monster email to explain what's been going on and sending it to a whole bunch of you. As such there's a lot of shit in it that some of you will understand, and some of you won't have a clue about. Sorry. This is a LOOOOOOOOONG email. If you really want to know what I've been up to the last four days, get a cuppa, and read this:
So, I was due to fight on the 4th down near Songkhla. In case you don't know, Songkhla is a town just off the Thai/Malasian border, about as far south as you can possibly go in Thailand. It's also the location of the string of bombings/killings over the past couple of years, a focal point for muslim fundamentalism in Thailand, all round lawless area and generally the one place in Thailand tourists are advised not to go to. So anyway, Thakoon has left for America, and Leon, Johnny and I are off to Songkhla. There was some doubt about whether or not I was going to go, as after being told for weeks on end that there would be no weigh-in, and as such, not bothering to watch my weight, I was told five days before the fight that I did in fact need to weigh in at 66kg. What this basically meant was that I would need to lose approx 8kg (it's water, not podge) in five days. I was expected to lose five kilos before we left on the 1st, go on a 12 hour bus journey to fucking war torn Songkhla, the hottest area in Thailand, during the hot season, spend two days there not eating or drinking, go to the weigh-in, skip off three kilos, and fight a couple of hours later. I don't fucking think so. We eventually came to a compromise with the promoter. Either I don't weigh in, or I'm not coming, so there. Anyway, it's back on. At this point I should mention for comedy value, that the Thais thought it was the funniest thing in the world that we were off to Songkhla, and took great pleasure in miming out their suspicions that we we're going to get shot by rebels. Fuckers.
On the Wednesday (June 1st), after emailing Anya, I'm sitting relaxing, not expecting to leave until the following evening, when Bee (my trainer) kicks the door in and declares we're leaving in an hour. Shit. One quick hair cut, shower, and packing of bags later, myself, Bee, Johnny (who was also fighting), and Leon (who's just along for the ride) are sitting in a cab in rush hour traffic, monsoon rain pelting down outside, on our way to the bus station. It takes about two hours, but once we get there we book bus tickets to Songkhla, get a bite to eat, and wait around for the bus to leave, which it does, at eight that evening.
To cut a long story short, the 933km bus journey is twelve plus hours of sleepless misery, broken up only once at 1:00am when we're ejected from our seats and herded into a roadside cafe (stretching the use of the term 'cafe' somewhat) by a fat megaphone wielding thai woman (I don't know who's fucking clever idea it was to give her that). Anyway, I dutifully finish off my rice gruel (really) in a bleary eyed stupor and allow myself to be herded back onto the bus.
We arrive in Songkhla around 9:00am, wait around like zombies for a while, and are eventually picked up by one of the promoters (we'll call him Sly promoter). He drives for about two hours out into the middle of no-where, to a place not even on the maps called Natawee. Natawee, as it turns out, is kind of like the Thai muslim version of white hick America. Picture a jungle. Now picture very long wide roads running through it. Now, at the roadside, picture a recurring theme of either a field, a cafe, a 'hotel', a brothel, a garage, or a derelict building. That's pretty much it. The population is predominantly muslim, and there aren't that many women to be seen. Apart from the hookers. The men seem to waste away the days sitting at coffee houses sipping iced tea/coffee/ovaltine, smoking, and chewing bettel nut (if you don't know, don't ask). Anyway, we spend the next day going through what rapidly becomes a somewhat monotonous process. Get in pick up truck, drive here, meet these people, get stared at by slack jawed local hicks, have tea/coffee/ovaltine, say thankyou, be nice to the man with the gun, get in pick up truck, drive here, meet these people, get stared at by slack jawed local hicks, have tea/coffee/ovaltine, say thankyou, be nice to the man with the gun etc...
We're then taken back to what the sly promoter calls the 'mansion'. Mansion, it ain't. It's a run down, dodgy looking guesthouse-esque building in the middle of a barren looking field, surrounded by jungle, the odd cafe, the odd brothel, and very little else. 'No phone', laughs the sly promoter, and adds 'no phone, no internet, no taxis, no buses'. Just fields. And jungle. And roads. And pick up trucks. There is a small shop, but it's closed and looks likely to remain so for the forseable future. On the plus side, we do have a bed and running water in our rooms, which was more than we hoped for. I'm also blessed with the company of a very large and highly vocal cockerel that lives outside my window and spends the days and sometimes nights in heated conversation with the local dogs (I'm getting a funny sense of deja vu regarding this set up Anya).
In any case, after an all too brief sleep, sly promoter takes us to what we later discover is the fight venue. We're not too sure what the place is. It might be an army barracks, at least there're enough guys in camouflage gear with guns for that to be the case. We stand around in the courtyard for a couple of hours, getting stared at, and occasionally getting proded a bit (Thais do that to you when weighing up whether or not they should bet on you when you fight, a bit like giving a race horse a once over). We're also introduced to another of the promoters (we'll call him Fat promoter). Briefly we meet our opponents. We're fighting local policemen, and have some horrible images of winning our fights only to have a kilo of heroin planted in our bags in revenge. After a while, sly promoter take us for food, which is pretty damn tasty, though I forget exactly what we had as I was too engrossed in watching the soldier across the road at the time. Something was obviously wrong with his gun and he was squinting down the barrel to see if he could find out the problem. Good to know we're in the hands of professionals.
Whilst eating, we're also introduced to one of the soldiers who we think might have been an officer, or something... He's apparently going to help show us around for the next few days and seems friendly enough (we'll call him Pistol Toting Maniac for reasons that will become apparent). As we're eating, the promoters (Fat and Sly) seem increasingly interested in Leon, and after a while lay their cards on the table by asking him if he would mind fighting. After initially declining, and then being harrassed for the next twenty minutes, Leon says maybe, and that he'll decide once he sees his potential opponent. It's all highly dodgy though and Leon eventually decides against it, not just because he hasn't been training much for the past month, but also too avoid the distinct possibility that he'll get fucked over just for the sake of lining the promoters pockets. After all, not much happens around here, so when a Muay Thai show comes to town everyone turns out for it, and two Farrang means the betting will be particularly lively and a lot of money will be flying around. If the promoters can get Leon in on the act as well, then all the better for them, and whether or not Leon is in any condition to fight, and whether he wins or loses isn't important (unless they're betting I suppose). Also, I can't help but recognise a few words of Thai from the conversation between Bee and the promoters. I distinctly hear 'farrang', 'weight', 'jogging', and 'tomorrow'. Either way, we don't trust them an inch. Though they treat us well enough, they spend a bit too much time whispering to each other then looking at us for our liking. They don't keep us informed either and we get the feeling they're constantly plotting something. Meanwhile we're stranded out here and are left for hours on end with nothing to do. We've got no means of comunicating with the outside world. I can't help but get the feeling we're going to get severly fucked over at some point.
Anyway, we head back to the 'mansion' (ha ha I love it), and sit about for a few hours until fat promoter comes to take us out for food. Johnny stays and goes to sleep but myself, Bee, and Leon all head out. By this point Leon and I have taken to riding in the back of the pick-up truck, affording us an amazing view of the stars as we drive, as well as a nice breeze to keep us cool. Now of the three entertainment establishments available in Natawee; coffee houses, brothels, and restaurants, one thing they all have in common is that they're invariably karaoke compatible. By the time we arrive at the restaurant, gun toting maniac soldier guy is already on his merry way with a bottle of Saang Som (cheap Thai whiskey) and is taking turns with his girlfriend at seronading the establishment with some questionable choices. All very surreal. Food is very good though, particularly the grilled fish with cashew nuts and mango, and the Tom Kha (tangy coconut milk spicy soup stuff). After a while it's time to leave and gun toting maniac gives us a lift back in his pick-up truck. He's a little unsteady on his feet, but once he sits down behind the wheel he seems okay, if a little confused about how he's going to drive with a pistol in one hand and his army issue revolver in the other. He's nothing if not resouceful though, and does manage it, even managing to stop to pick up more beers on the way back. We also stop briefly at his favourite local brothel, where he disappears for ten minutes. Leon and I stay in the truck and politely decline all advances. Once we get back it's pretty late, but we all sit outside, with Bee, gun toting maniac, and Leon polishing off the beers whilst I get stuck into the chicken (wherever you are in Thailand, the food is always good). And after that it's off to sleep. Day one is over. Just two more days until the fight, then we can get the fuck out of here. Whilst I slept, gun toting maniac took Bee and Leon to a local strip club. Great fun apparently. I don't know the exact details, but suffice to say Leon stumbled home wasted at four in the morning with two nipple stars as souveniers and stories of M-16 wielding locals for memories.
Day two was amazingly good fun. Seriously, and probably made the whole trip worth it even if we weren't fighting. Natawee itself may be a bit of a shit hole, and the people may be scheming fuckers, but the countryside is stunning. Once we wake up, after a hell of a good sleep, Bee send gun toting maniac's girfriend for food (too lazy/hungover to get up himself). The poor girl toddles off, and returns half an hour later with loads of goodies. Plenty of rice, chicken, pork and fresh fruit. Well fed, we then head out for 'ovaltine' with fat promoter. 'Ovaltine' is a term used to describe the frequent daily outings to one of many local coffee shops to have either hot or cold (iced) coffee, tea, or ovaltine, sweetened with condensed milk. These 'ovaltine' outings occur at least three to four times a day and are always welcome. After that, fat promoter takes us for a drive. Myself, Johnny, and Leon all pile into the back of the pick up truck and we're off. The drive is great. We really are in the complete middle of nowhere. Jungle covered hills literally as far as the eye can see, a clear blue sky, and fresh air are a welcome change from Bangkok. After about an hours drive, we get to the end of the road, and visit the preserved cave bunker system that housed troops over the second world war and more recently, chinese troops during the emergence of communist China. All lots of fun, but on the way back we stop at the waterfalls and Leon and I need very little encouragement to ditch our shoes and t-shirts and go for a dip, spending the next half hour leaping of the rocks into the water below, swimming around, and avoiding the local fauna, namely a huge fucking lizard thing eyeing me suspiciously as I took a piss in the bushes, and a beast of a spider crawling around the trees. All too soon we're heading off again, and on the way back stop for a quick drink of 'ovaltine', and some water.
But wait! The day isn't over! It's beach time! After a quick sleep, gun toting maniac takes us on a half hours drive to the beach, which is pretty dam impressive. Almost completely deserted, white sand, palm trees, clear water, we go for another swim, have a wander on the beach, have another swim, watch the sun go down, have some food, and head back.
Day three! Fight day! Surprise, we're checking weight. Or so I'm told. Then we're not, I'm told. Then we are. Then not. Then we're going for food. Then we're checking weight. Then we're not. I don't know what the fuck is going on, but we find ourselves back at the barracks. The ring is being put up in the courtyard (open air show), and after half an hour off pissing about, fat promoter calls me over to stand next to some guy I've never seen before. He looks us both up and down, shrugs, and walks off. "When do we weight in?" asks Johnny. "I think we just did", I reply. Apparently so, because it's off for food after that, then back to the mansion (I love calling it that) for a sleep. I sleep all day, and feel much better when I wake up. Bee takes us out for a bite to eat, and we bump into gun toting maniac (it'a a small place). He joins us for food, then we take a drive to his house in the jungle to see his bull (really). The sky is pretty dark, but Bee asures us it won't rain. Ten minutes later we're in gun toting maniac's house sheltering from the monsoon outside. Me and Johnny wonder if the show will be cancelled. Gun toting maniac's bull is outside, glaring at me through the window. I'm only too pleased when we eventually get back in the truck (inside this time, to get out the rain) and go for ovaltine. at a wee coffee shop just off the road. It's surrounded by rubber trees and jungle and we're introduced to some more middle aged men sitting smoking and sipping coffee. I'm starting to get the serious feeling that some of these people we're being introduced to are the guys that call the shots around here, not the police. Just to be safe, our bows are extra respectful, and once the rain's off, we finish our drinks, make our excuses, and leave. One of the men says he's betting on me tonight, and that I've to win.
By the way, despite the fun we were having, Leon had the good sense to get the fuck out of here and had left for Krabi early that morning. Even though he'd declined the offer to fight, the promoters seemed to be going out of their way to keep him here as long as possible. All very suspicious. He eventually got gun toting army guy to give him a lift to the bus station in Hat Yai about an hours drive away. For this privelage, and for lifts over the rest of the stay, crazy gun toting army guy ended up with a tidy 1000 baht for his troubles. To place this in context, 1000 baht gets you a 1st class VIP, air conditioned, fully catered coach ride 933km back to Bangkok. Seeing as he spent maximum two hours driving us around Natawee I think he did quite well for himself. Anyway, on the way home, we stop and wait in the truck whilst gun toting maniac stops off to pick up his son In the meantime Johnny and I attempt to convince Bee that it's not actually all that funny for him to wave gun toting maniac's loaded revolver around in the car. Back at the mansion. I get an hours sleep, then wake up around 7:00pm. The rain has stopped, so I make mysef a coffee and go and join Johnny and Bee in their room. The show starts at eight, but it's really nearby, and Johnny and I aren't on until later, so we wait in the room watching TV for a while. At about half nine, Bee, in the most overtly hetrosexual way possible, gives Johnny and I our pre-fight rubdown with Thai oil. We get our wraps on, hop in the truck, and off we go.
It's a warm evening at the barracks, and the courtyard is packed with spectators, most standing, some setting up picnic style camps complete with copious amounts of Saang Som and beer.The place is lit up with lines of bulbs strung amongst the trees and buildings, and a few street vendors have set up shop in amongst the crowd. There seem to be quite a few guys stalking about with M-16's. The goggle eyed crowd is pressed up right to the foot of the ring and onlookers seem particularly interested as Johnny and I warm up, doubly so when they see the tattoo on my back. Right, so Johnny's up first, and imagine our complete lack of surprise when Johnny gets in the ring and find they've switched his opponent without telling us. He's now fighting the guy I as originally supposed to fight. He's also told he's now fighting three rounds, not five, meaning that his opponent is hoping to just try to knock Johnny out from the word go and isn't confident his fitness will last five rounds. Johnny did really well, though he was a bit too defensive in the first two rounds, he kicked ass in the last, almost knocking the guy spark out before the final bell went (a bit prematurely in my opinion). The Thai guy wins on points, which pleases the crowd no end. Fuckers. Johnny would have knocked that guy out if it had been over five rounds like we'd been led to believe.
Twenty minutes later it's my turn. My guy is in the red corner, is heavier than my original opponent, though not in great condition. He dosn't return the smile I give him as I step over the ropes. I'm not bothered and keep smiling as I bow to the judges. Inside I'm sick and tired of being fucked around for the past three days and quite frankly I'm looking forward to pounding this guy in front of everyone. I'm wearing my plain blue Thaismai shorts, both my red and white armbands, Andy's Mongkon, and a new pair of blue Twins special 6oz mitts. I go through my Ram Muay, come back to the corner, and bow as Bee takes off the Mongkon. The ref calls me into the center to touch gloves with my opponent, and as I do so I can see him chanting under his breath and drawing on the floor between us with his toes. Oh! So that's the way it is, is it? In case you don't know, there's a strong tradition of use of magic and superstition surrounding Muay Thai, and this cheeky fucker's trying to cast a spell against me before the fight starts. Ha! Spells is it? I don't bloody think so! Of all nights, tonight I'm up to my eyeballs in my own magic spells and charms. For a start, a full back protective tattoo beats his piddly drawing in the ring and chanting crap any day of the week. Plus I've got Andy's Mongkon, plus my armbands, plus my buddha amulet thingy! So there! Keep chanting bitch! You're about to get you ass handed to you! Erm... not that I believe in that sort of thing...
Round one starts. I smile, touch gloves, and drill a left jab into his face. Perhaps it's the three days relaxing before hand, but I feel great. Everything seems to be falling into place like it hasn't done in a while. I fake a right low kick, and chamber it into a front kick which knocks him back onto the ropes. We mess around for a bit, neither one throwing anything serious. I fake a low kick again then step through as he lifts his leg to block and whip a low kick into his standing leg. Good good I think. I throw a jab cross and fake another right low kick. As he tries to block I pull it into a right front kick to his standing leg, kick off it into a right cross, a left uppercut, a right cross, and skip across him with a solid right low kick to finish. I back off a bit and he whips in a roundhouse kick. It's pretty fast, but there's nothing in it as I take it on the arms. Later in the round I trip on the mat and fall on my ass. The crowd goes nuts, and my opponent puffs out his chest like he just fucking dropped me himself. Right. I get up, smile at him, nail him with a left jab, then step in with a left jab right cross. The cross lands an absolute peach if I do say so myself. I push off my rear heel, turning my body from the toes up, following through with my shoulder and snapping my fist shut tight through his face. A good connection, absorbed nicely by the guy's teeth as he stumbles back onto the ropes to remain standing.
Round two gets going in a similar fashion, and just as I'm thinking all this guy has is a right and left roundhouse, he only goes and smashes around the side of the head with a right cross elbow. Didn't even see it coming. The crowd goes nuts for this. This does a number of things to my mental state. Firstly, it pisses me off in principle because it's pretty bad form to throw elbows like that so early into the fight, two, it pisses me off because it occurs to me at some subconscious level that the crowd probably thinks I've no idea how to use elbows or even how to clinch. Oh yeah! The white boy can kick and punch but he can't clinch or use elbows! Of course. Only Thais can do that. In retrospect, I had been drinking coffee since I got up that morning, had just necked an M-150, was suffering the stress of being fucked around for the past three days and was probably a little tense/irritable. This may have contributed somewhat to my response to being elbowed in the head, but either way I went on a sixty second elbow tastic slashing frenzy, opening up two impressive gashes in his head and flooring him for a standing eight count before the ref stopped the fight because he was bleeding everywhere.
Two points worth mentioning: 1) The standing eight count, where my back was to the ropes and I hit him with a left cross elbow, turned him on the ropes with my left and pulled him straight into a right cross elbow. Right on the chin. Hit the floor like a sack of spuds. He was up by the count of four but it was still sweet. 2) Pulled off that cool 'left hand scoops opponents left arm out the way, pulling them into a right cross elbow in the teeth' technique. And there we go. We make our excuses and leave, stopping only to pay our respects to the promoters (bastards) and take a couple of photos with the odd happy Thai that bet on me to win.
Next morning Johnny heads off to join Leon in Krabi and Bee and I head home to Bangkok. Pretty miserable bus ride home, leaving Songkhla at 3:00pm and not getting back to the gym until about 5:00am.