Fight night
By James Fuller
The night's venue is in Lampang, one hundred kilometres south-east of Chiang Mai, Northern Thailand. Typical of most venues away from the stadiums of Bangkok, the ring stands in a field adjacent to a temple.
Tarpaulins erected to form a wall encourage spectators to pay a nominal entrance fee. Vendors sell local whisky, beer, Chiang Mai sour fermented sausage, pancakes and noodle soup. Some simply operate from a grill set-up on an adapted side-car of a moped.
Our entourage of boxers and trainers is waved through the gate.
The grass underfoot is plush from the recent weeks of rain; its sheen catches the incandescent light of the bare high-watt light bulbs, strung corner-to-corner across the ring.
The crowd is already enjoying a fight between novice boxers. Children cling to the structure of the ring to see in. Those too young to stand are cradled in their parents' arms. An old woman puffs on a huge hand-rolled cigarette. A man already drunk at the evenings start is deterred from climbing into the ring to the crowds amusement.
Kem weighed-in this morning at 141 pounds, as did his opposition, the current champion. They both swaddled themselves in layers of tracksuits and began to jog in the morning sun. Kem found a sauna-like telephone booth, where he jogged in place, whilst his opponent bounced bizarrely in the cab of a pick-up truck.
Having urinated and spat for good measure, Kem stripped, towelled-off and crept onto the scales for 139 pounds. His strength was soon replenished at breakfast - each meal was supplemented with a drink claiming to contain the essence of chicklets.
Emyr, from England, has been with the camp for three months and will fight for the first time tonight. Napporn, at fourteen years old, will fight a second time. At twenty-one years old, Kem is a seasoned boxer, having already had sixty fights and held titles in lighter weight categories.
Napporn dispatches his opponent in the second round with a leg kick followed by a knee to the head. Den, the camps senior boxer with over three hundred career fights and current Northern Champion at 118 and 125 pounds, and Taywin, a trainer and veteran boxer, act as corner men. Emyr is well composed as he enters the ring. His ram-muay (the ceremonial dance that pays respect to trainers and the spirits of boxing) generates applause - if well delivered, a beautiful ram-muay is as much appreciated as witnessing a kick to the head.
The strains of the Thai oboe and percussion follow the bell for the first round. Emyr's counterpart does not observe the usual practise of using the first round to test one another, and suffers for it. Emyr is clearly more prepared, regardless of experience. In his excitement, Emyr knocks him out in round two with a knee to the head following a grapple.
The rapid pace of the evening is followed by the headman's fight- a three round bout between two men in their fifties. Spectators cheer enthusiastically as both men's gloves are raised in victory.
Kem's body shines. He has been rubbed down with boxing liniment to loosen-up and promote a faster sweat. Vaseline has been applied about his face and neck. Another knock-out fight makes way for the evenings main event. Money changes hands between each fight - even between individual rounds. Gambling is an intrinsic part of the boxing night. Men can be observed gambling on the toss of a coin as they cue to enter a stadium. Fighters commonly wager on themselves what they can afford to supplement their winnings.
Kem's classic ram-muay gives him a final stretch. This is his second day off from training. Yesterday he received a massage from a fellow boxer as the others trained. He stands a couple of inches shorter than the current champion. His weight is in his legs and his back, that spreads as he takes his stance. They move about each other in rhythm to the music, mutual respect is evident in the care with which they test reactions.
Combinations are brief. Between rounds Taywin and Chamlang vigorously rub down Kem's limbs, pausing to mime with advice. Others would have soon been dispatched by Kem's leg kicks - I've seen him knock them out in such fashion - but the opponent nods and smiles to salute the strikes and moves in again.
Kem catches his kicks several times throughout the fight, delivering a hook punch and sweeping the other leg. Cheers accompany each blow landed. Before the fifth round the opponents trainer gestures for him to use his knees. This strategy is briefly effective, but Kem's ability to choose the distance and change from left to right stance avoids that threat.
To the very end, they wear the nonchalant smiles that accompany most fighters on both receipt and delivery of pain. The trade of blows is consistent, but Kem dominates. He is rewarded with an unanimous decision.
He "wais" to each judge and the referee and goes to the other boxers corner to pay respect and receive the customary drink of water from them. The championship belt is strapped around his waist by a boxing official and stances are resumed for the few cameras.
We are soon rolling up the mats to return to Chiang Mai. I greet Jongjaroin - owner and trainer of the former champions camp - and meet his wife and children. He congratulates me on the good fortune of three victories for the camp. The ring is rapidly dismantled. The tarpaulin wall has been pulled down by eager spectators long ago. We are buffeted in the back of the pick-up for the ride home, cushioned by our success.
All photos and text copyright (c) 2000 by James Fuller.
All rights reserved.
