My First Muay Thai Fight

“One… Two… Three…”

I can’t breathe, I’m up against the ropes desperately trying get my breath back before the end of the count but it was impossible, my lungs were shut to the precious air that I so badly needed.

But let’s not start there.

12:00pm – Friday – Weight Cut

I’m sitting inside a sauna in Onehunga with a rubbish bag, carefully cut to let my head and arms through, draped over my body and a thick jumper on top. I’ve got about one and a half kg to lose at this point and I’m just starting to warm up as I set in for the hour.

Sweat begins dripping from my face and I check under the jumper, yep, that’s definitely working.

I’m in and out with 15 minute sessions over the course of one hour, weighing myself after each session to monitor my weight loss.

At the end of the hour, I’m down at 72.2kg and it’s time to get out of the sauna, slightly dizzy from the amount of fluid lost from my body. All I want is a drink of water but I can’t have any for another 6 hours.

4:00 pm:

Lying on my bed and looking up at my ceiling, I’m trying to imagine how the fight will go, though a pointless endeavor, it helps to keep thoughts about thirst and hunger at bay. I’m nervous by this point, do I really want to do this?

7:00 pm:

It’s weigh in time and my opponent and I exchange curious glances at each other across the gym. I step up on the scales and I’m weighed in at 71.4kg, way under the 72kg goal. It’s time to re-hydrate and get some KFC into my body.

Not before getting some quick photos though.

10:00 Am – Saturday – Fight Day

Time to finally get my ass out of bed and out to brunch. Eggs, bacon and a triple shot coffee. The breakfast of champions.

2:30 Pm:

Shit, it’s actually happening. I’m a whole bunch of nerves mixed with excitement and eagerness. Off to the venue soon to get ready and wrapped up. Have I got everything I need? Better check my bag a hundred bloody times.

4:30 Pm:

Gado (Another fighter from my gym) and I start to get ready and do some light touch sparring to warm up. Our trainers are just beginning to arrive and we start the whole process of getting ready.

First we wrap the hands in tape. Hmm, my hands are hairy, I should have shaved them or something because that’s going to be a bitch later.

Next up we get a Thai oil rub down, this stuff smells like Deep Heat but way nicer, and a lot stronger, I start to get a nice burn all over my body as they rub it in. I’m like a glistening God right now, except way less chiseled and God like. In fact I look nothing like it, but I feel good.

5:00 Pm: 

Crap need to do a nervous pee, also need to make sure I don’t get Thai oil down there. Screw that.

Now I strap up my steel cup, it’s like a tight g-string with a big steel cup on the front. Not really that comfortable but I stop noticing it shortly after putting it on.

5:15 Pm: 

Gado is up in the ring, I can hear cheers and shouts as they kick each other, I sneak a couple of glances out when I can and join in from the back of the room.

5:30 Pm:

My turn, my nerves have dissapeared and I’m strangely calm for someone who is about to play punch face with someone for real this time.

I walk into the ring and grin at the applause as I step in, it’s a nice feeling.

My opponent walks in, and slips through the ropes and on to the other side of the ring. Why is he wearing board shorts? Oh well.

I’m still calm, I’m waiting for it to start and touch gloves with him before we both return to our respective corners.

5:35 Pm:

Go time. The bell rings and we walk towards each other, moments later, we both start swinging with kicks, punches, and knees. I’m surprised at how little it hurts, the adrenaline is coursing through my veins thankfully and it felt like I was kicking a firm pillow.

Smack, I get hit hard in the face. Again and again, damn his punches are hard, I can feel my head rock back each time one connected, some filling my eyes with stars. Then he throws a hook that lands on my ear, my ear drum goes with barely a pop and my hearing goes with it. What just happened? Shit this is not going well.

I cover up and get some shots in of my own as he starts coming towards me again.

The bell rings and I’m back to my corner, grabbing as much air as I can back into my lungs. My trainers tell me to keep my hands up, I thought they were up but apparently they are a little too far down.

The trainers leave the ring after a quick rub down and the bell rings out for round 2.

Back into the centre we go and it all starts over again. He’s aggressive, I was hoping I wouldn’t end up in a brawl and now here I am getting overwhelmed as punch after punch comes after me. I try for a head kick but I didn’t have the energy to set it up properly and it lands into his arms. He keeps coming forward, rocking me with punches to the head and the occasional kick. I want to get out of the way of the punches but my brain was not cooperating.

I keep trying to kick and knee when I can, if I can get a good one into his body that might stop him for a bit. But it didn’t. Boy did he keep coming.

I knew when I was getting punched in the head, not so much from the punches themselves but the roar of the crowd each time it connected with my body. It was a weird, fleeting moment of realisation.

The fight continues on, kicks and teeps from my end, met by more punches and kicks from him.

Why am I doing this? This is way harder than I thought it would be.

Eventually the bell rings and I’m back in my corner.

My trainers are telling me to keep kicking, as much as I can, 50 kicks he says, he’ll count them off for me.

How could I get 50 kicks in in the space of two 2 minutes? “Okay”, I say.

The trainers are out of the ring and we meet in the middle of the ring to touch gloves for the third and final round.

The bell rings again and I’m more hesitant to return to the centre this time.

He comes forward.

He punches, I kick, we both kick, I knee, he punches.

Shit I need to get out of the corner otherwise I’m going to eat more punches.

I cover up and try to move out the side.

He lands a solid kick into my side and knocks the wind out of my lungs, I can’t breathe. Oh shit.

“One… Two… Three…”

I can’t breathe, I’m up against the ropes desperately trying get my breath back before the end of the count but it was impossible, my lungs were shut to the precious air that I so badly needed.

“Four… Five… Six…”

Come on! I need to breathe! My eyes dart around wildly as I try to will my body into letting air in, I’m panicked now.

“Seven… Eight…”

“Do you want to continue?”

I want to say yes but I can’t speak, I still can’t breathe.

The ref crosses his arms out in front of him and calls the fight. It was over.

I was disappointed, to lose over such a stupid thing, if I could have held in there at least and just lost on points I would have been happier.

He comes over and we smile and thank each other for the fight, he takes the trophy and I climb out of the ring. Dazed and upset. I need a beer.

 

Comments

comments