RALPH ginger ninja James Cooney gets fighting fit in a hardcore Muay Thai training camp.
My head is pounding, my clothes are soaked in sweat and I haven't even left the airport. Welcome to Thailand.
I came here to train in Muay Thai — the "art of eight limbs" and the national sport of Thailand. I want to train
like the Thais — for six hours a day, six days a week. Or as long as I can hack it.
My destination is Fairtex Pattaya, the best training facility in the country, 165km south of Bangkok's titty bars, on the east coast of the Gulf of Thailand.
Stayin' alive
It's 7am on my first day at the camp. I groggily make my way to the training area. It consists of 15 kick bags, four boxing rings and enough pads and gear to train an army. There are 10 other blokes from different parts of the world warming up and wrapping their hands. Most of them look like professional fighters who could beat me into a puddle without breaking a sweat.
Routine spirit
THE arvo session is a lot like the morning one, except it’s hotter than Satan’s beanbag. One of the trainers has rigged up a hose that runs through the back of the fans. It creates a fine mist that makes training and breathing slightly more bearable.
Routine spirit
The arvo session is a lot like the morning one, except it's hotter than Satan's beanbag. One of the trainers has rigged up a hose that runs through the back of the fans. It creates a fine mist that makes training and breathing slightly more bearable.
In the game
By the fourth day, I've started to find my rhythm. I'm sore all over, but my body and brain seem to be adjusting to the constant punishment.
The trainers seem satisfied with my boxing ability, but my kicks need a lot of work. A well-thrown Muay Thai kick is often compared to being hit with a baseball bat, but my legs are more like angry sticks of fairy floss at the moment.
Each round of sparring or pad work involves more than 60 kicks, which after a few days gets easier to bear. What doesn't get easier are the massive f--k-off blisters that form on the soles of your feet.
Fight club
The more I get to know my trainers, the more I respect them. Most have been in this game since they were six years old and have more than 100 stoushes to their name. It's no surprise many of them had to retire from the sport in their early twenties due to hardcore injuries.
All the trainers I speak to have a similar story and seem to be pretty pleased about scoring a gig training other fighters. But their lives outside the ring seem to be even more dangerous at times. I ask one trainer if an elbow caused the brutal eight-inch scar across the top of his scalp. "No," he smiles, rubbing the line where hair would never grow again. "Knife."
Tough it out
The other guys training at this gym are mercenaries from France, elite soldiers from the UK, MMA fighters from the US and ordinary blokes just living out their dreams.
Some days I'm in the ring with Yodsaenklai — the bloke who won
The Contender Asia. On others, I'm doing push-ups near Naruepol — a fighter I've only ever seen kicking arse on TV.
Improve to move
By the second week, I start to notice big improvements in my technique. I'm throwing punches and kicks on instinct and blocking attacks on my shins without thinking. My combos feel dangerous and I'm even getting complimented on my previously soft Thai kicks.
In one particularly heated round, I floor my trainer with a push-kick, sending him flying onto the canvas. I apologise immediately, but he seems happy. "Good!" he shouts, then throws a kick back that sends me onto my skinny white arse.
Despite my increasing bruises, the niggling injuries I carried over here from Australia have vanished. I spend my downtime time sleeping, eating healthy Thai food and wondering why the local lady boys are so convincing. Maybe I've been hit in the head too many times, but I even start to like the heavy humidity.
On my last day at the camp, a trainer asks if I'm planning to have a proper fight in Thailand. He says it can be arranged in a month or so, but I'll have to train harder. I consider this and tell him we can talk about it later. But later I'm cruising at 30,000 feet, smiling at hostesses and enjoying my first beer in two weeks.
Who do you think would win in a fight, a Muay Thai boxer or a taekwondo fighter? Leave your comment below.
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