In My Corner

Those of you following this scrupulously will be aware that this Saturday, which is to say two days from the composition of this post, I will have my first competitive fight. A little over an hour ago, I found out that my opponent is to be a man named Craig, who arrived at the camp around the same time I did, and has been at the periphery of my experience for the past several weeks. I've spoken to him since I saw the matchings, and he's as good-natured as I would hope for him to be, and I have good expectations for a clean, challenging fight.

For the fighters and martial artists who read this, I suppose it's also relevant to mention that I outweigh Craig by about 5 kilos, though he's clearly much stronger. He has broad shoulders and a stout frame, his arms are large and much more muscular than mine, though I stand several inches taller than him, giving me a significant reach advantage. I don't know what his background is, but I take our boxing skills to be roughly equal, though it has been a long time since I sparred with him.

I am somewhat encouraged by the fact that very rarely do the trainers allow us to kick during sparring, and so hopefully my strong background with lower-body techniques will be another point in my favor. I have to say, however, that Craig is, by his bearing, the veteran of more than one street fight, and I heard him once explaining to someone that he has been to prison back in England (though I don't know how many times) for some extended term, and I must presume that that stay was hardly untroubled. All told, he is a daunting opponent, and one that I consider to be at my level, not significantly above or below. All signs point to a hard fight, though I remain cautiously optimistic.

I spoke to my mother yesterday, who perhaps unsurprisingly seems confused about the need for me to participate in something like this, and apparently would prefer that I avoided it entirely. In response to a similar reaction which I anticipate from some of my readers, I feel that perhaps I should explain.

On one level, I am not being in any way facetious or insincere when I say that a fair part of my interest is academic. My purpose here is to study the way in which Muay Thai relates to Thai culture and history, and an official and organized Muay Thai fight is rich in both. Before the fight, both combatants enter the ring much in the style of Western boxers, following a presumably grandiose announcement from an official, including the notable parts of a fighter's record, along with their country of origin. Once both parties are present, a traditional piece of music beings to play, referred to as Pi Muay, on an instrument which somewhat resembles a clarinet. As the music plays, both fighters proceed in a dance called the Wai Kru, which begins by walking around the ring three times and bowing/saluting in some fashion at each of the corners, and after a minute or two of formulaic dancing, finishes with whatever personal touches the fighter wishes to add.

Technically speaking, the laps around the ring are not actually a part of the Wai Kru, but are referred to as "sealing the ring," as they seal the ring from evil spirits by walking with one hand on the ropes, and stopping to pray at each corner. The Wai Kru itself has a certain series of proscribed movements, but these are more convention than ceremony, which is to say that many/most fighters alter or even abbreviate this part. The dance itself, in whatever form it takes, is actually very important, however, as "Wai" means "bow" and "Kru means "teacher," the dance is the fighter's opportunity to show respect and thanks to his or her trainers and teachers. In other words, the dance may be and usually is adapted to personal taste, but should never be excluded.

Below is a link to a video of this dance as performed by Nazee, one of my trainers, and the man with whom I have been taking private lessons in preparation for the fight. He proceeds through the dance almost entirely according to conventional practice, but the main personal touch is right at the end and is in fact Nazee's trademark. Before going back to his corner, he mimes drawing and firing an arrow at his opponent, stepping forward, surveying the damage, and concluding that the other fighter's future is grim. Much, much more about Nazee to come.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCX41E9J5yM

During all of this, the fighters wear a headpiece called the Mongkon, which in years long past was a towel or a cloth twisted tightly around the prayers and good wishes of the fighter's trainers, friends and family. Today, the Mongkon still represents the same thing, though one is usually re-used by a gym or a group, and it does not usually contain the written prayers anymore. Sometimes the fighters enter the arena with the Mongkon already in place, but while wearing this, the fighter will never duck between the ropes to enter the ring, but will instead enter only over the top rope to show respect for the prayers, and to symbolize that God and prayer are above all things.

In the last week, Nazee has been teaching me this dance, and while he is somewhat critical of my funk, and insists that I move more to the music, I think that I'm at least getting enough of a handle on it so that I won't embarrass myself or him on Saturday.

In addition to studying the cultural/historical aspects of this ceremony firsthand, a great deal of my motivation is social. About a month ago, I mentioned Dang, the head trainer in the beginner classes, and the fact that he started fighting when he was still a small child. Though I was aware at the time that his case was hardly atypical, I have discovered since then that without exception, the trainers at the gym have all entered the ring several dozens of times at least, giving them a fight record as long as most professional boxers in the Western world. For some time, I have felt that my utter lack of experience in serious combat with a trained opponent is something unimaginable to the Thais here, and in fact could become a source of alienation. I don't mean that they would think of me as weak or cowardly, but rather that they would (and in fact do already to some extent) question my motivation in training Muay Thai without ever thinking to apply it.

Most of the trainers have in fact fought far more than any western boxers would in two lifetimes, and they still continue to compete. I feel that I should warn everyone who could be reading this while running or operating heavy machinery to pause for a moment before I impart this next piece of information, as the average professional boxing carrer is usually thought to be around 50-80 fights in a lifetime. Nazee, my personal trainer pictured in the video above, will fight at Patong Stadium here in Phuket in two weeks. This will be his 382nd fight. Three hundred and eighty-second fight.

Surrounded by people like this, it is easy to see that fighting in the ring is such a quintessential part of the characters of the trainers here, that I know that I am expected to enter the ring and test my own skills. Just as I was pushed to advance from the beginner mats, and again from the intermediate area, my trainers (particularly Nazee and Phatet, who I consider to be the most talented and helpful of the advanced trainers) have been subtly encouraging me to step up to the level of a Muay Thai fighter, and not just an American with a hobby.

Add to this the fact that as a lifetime martial artist, actual combat is something that has always lurked at the back of my mind as a silent challenge from the world. It has always seemed to me that to conduct oneself with legitimacy in the arts that I have chosen to study, one must be able to apply them to a hostile opponent. I've waited this long because I believe that there is also a great value in perfecting technique for its own sake, even if it be in a vacuum, but a large part of the aesthetic value of martial arts is their power, and it's time I tested my own.

Two days ago, I asked Chris if he would be my corner-man for the fight, and help me warm up and get focused on the night of. He was honored, and agreed instantly, and I'll be very glad to have him there. While perhaps not as terrified as I had always expected to be at this prospect, I admit that I am rather apprehensive about the whole event, and as Chris is my oldest and closest friend here at the camp, I expect him to be a very helpful and reassuring presence. I am also confident that he is well suited to the responsibilities that will await him in this, as he is not only an insatiable aficionado of combat sports, and so well versed in the preparation and care of fighters, but also he is the veteran of a significant prison sentence, served mostly in Texas penitentiaries, in which he once had to fight a man to save his own life.



At this moment, sitting on my bed alone in my room, it seems that I have come to be very far away from my life back home. I am still very much glad to be here, and I am excited for the fight on Saturday, but as I read back over this post, thinking of how personable I've become with these hard-knuckled men of necessity, with their shotgun biceps and backs and stomachs made of iron and knotted rope, I admit that part of me very much wants to read a book, and then talk about it with someone who has weak shins.