Valentine’s Day Part 1: Fight Night

Every month the camp hosts a competition aptly called the BBQ Beatdown that’s one part barbeque and one part fighting. This is primarily a chance for the trainees at the camp to test their skills without affecting their official amateur or professional records. The fight community calls these “Smoker’s Fights” because anyone and everyone has the chance to jump into the ring and test their mettle.

There was some buzz about this event because of the spectacular show put on last month that included a flying arm bar and a comeback TKO. Tonight there were three Muay Thai matches and three MMA fights. The rules had been altered a bit. For the Muay Thai competition, the boxers were required to wear 18oz gloves and shinpads. Also, elbows and knees to the face were prohibited. The MMA fighters had to wear the 8oz Shooto style gloves, shinpads and weren’t allowed to throw knees or elbows to the face or use leg locks, as the shinpads would make escape nearly impossible.

The event was supposed to begin at 7:30 with an all-you-can-eat and drink barbeque but in typical islander fashion, the time was a bit lax. The ensemble consisted of mostly fighters, ex-fighters, a few locals and a few supporting tourists. People sat in the dining area away from the ring and cage and self-segregated into their cliques. Though there was tension in the air, no one really knew were it should be directed until the food was presented—and the attendees concentrated their efforts on gorging.

As our esophagi began to fill, music was turned on the air became a bit more festive. Talking became louder and more animated and the self-segregation and bizarre tough-guy posturing dissipated. Only half of the guests were drinking and of that only half were having more than a single beer. Full time training and beer don’t mix. Since this was my first BBQ Beatdown and I haven’t had a beer since I was snowed-in in England, I chose to indulge myself with a few beverages.

Every now and again, you could see the fighters participating in tonight’s event pacing about. They weren’t eating or drinking but also didn’t seem removed from the revelry surrounding them. One of the fighters sat on the karaoke stand and taped his hands while nodding appreciation for the occasional, “good luck, man.”

The fights started loosely at 8 and began with two Asian-Australian mates in the Muay Thai ring. I’d seen them eating together at Tony’s restaurant and was fairly sure they were sharing the same bungalow with two other friends—the cheapest way to enjoy luxury accommodation. Despite their pre-Thailand friendship, they threw ferocious punches and kicks at each other in the ring. The first round went to the slightly shorter but more heavily muscled fighter who wore his cup on the outside of his Muay Thai trunks. Apparently this is common. After the fighter has his hands taped and gloves on, there’s no opportunity to disrobe, so the cup is just worn on top of the shorts. It looked to me like a feeble attempt at a superhero costume.

Every punch thrown by the shorter fighter was large and heavy. The fighters on the outside of the ring created a chorus of murmured technique, “The muscley one is going to tire himself out.”

“The judges card goes to the smaller guy but can he keep that pace up?” By the middle of the second round, it became clear that he could not. The taller, thinner fighter used his jabs to keep his friend at bay and threw vicious body shots with his knees. One of these knees missed the body and caught the fighter in his right shoulder and by the third round his injured arm forced him to quit.

The second Muay Thai fight was between a professional MMA fighter who had amassed a record of 4 wins with 2 losses and 2 draws against “Boy from Thailand.” We all chuckled about a huge white professional cagefighter fighting a boy from Thailand because of the distinct possibility of upset—but we were assured that “Boy” was the fighter’s name.

It may have been his name but it was also a valid description. The fighter was tall and thin with well-defined muscles and a boyish but tough face. He couldn’t have been older than 18. His movements were languid but the follow through from his strikes were crisp. Earlier, I asked the MMA fighter why he took on this fight and he responded, “Because I’ve never had a proper Muay Thai fight before. He had a proper Muay Thai bout on his hands now.All three rounds were fast-paced and consistently energetic. The fighters traded blows and threw anger-free punches. It was a great tactical display. Below is brief video of the fight. I apologize for the poor quality.



The third and final Muay Thai bout was by far the most entertaining and was between two of the Muay Thai trainers at the camp. Few punches were thrown but there were more than enough kicks and throws to make up for the lack of pugilism. Both fighters were smiling at each other the entire time and trading verbal jabs in between fast and hard kicks to the ribs. Every now and then the referee (also a trainer) would interrupt and force one of the opponents to do pushups for having poor fundamentals, “Stop, stop! You keep hands up! 10 pushup!” The students screamed in appreciation. “Stop, stop. No kick down fighter! 10 pushup!”

The fight ended in a good-natured draw and both fighters turned their attention to the referee and forced him to do pushups in reconciliation. Again, the students screamed their support.

When the referee finished his last pushup, the crowd hustled from the Muay Thai ring to the MMA cage. Like the Muay Thai, there were three fights scheduled. I was warned beforehand that all of the MMA fights stay on their feet because it was difficult to gauge an opponent’s ground skills until you were already caught in a lock. But this proved to be an unkind rumor and all of the fighters were able to put their groundwork and their striking skills to use.

Opening the MMA competition were two young fighters. The first to enter the ring was taller, leaner, had a shock of blond hair and bounced around the ring in anticipation of the fight. The second fighter entered calmly with his shaved brown-haired head and clenched fists around his waist. “I pick the calm guy,” came a comment from beside me.

The first of three rounds started with a fluffy of punches. The blond boxer was throwing hooks to the body and head while his opponent absorbed and calculated. One of the punches thrown by the blond fighter was sloppy and the other fighter took advantage and swept him to the ground where most of the rest of the round took place. There were kimora, triangle, guillotine and ground and pound techniques utilized by both fighters. They were stood up by the ref as the bell sounded.

The second round maintained the same pace but the energy shifted. The brown-haired fighter was now the aggressor and threw well-aimed combinations causing his opponent to shuffle and cover. The fight was taken to the ground and a variety of submissions were tried but their skills were about equal—only this round the blond was the defender.

In the final round, the blond took his opponent to the ground but the brown haired fighter hit a switch (escape move) and ended up in the full mount (straddling his opponent’s chest—this looks like a big brother bully move) position. The blond was pushed up against the fence and punished with unanswered punches until the fight was called.

As the second fight took place, my attention was aimed at the preparation of the fighters of the final fight. Both were large, heavily muscled men weighing about 205 lbs. One is a Swede who the fighters around the camp call “the Viking” because of his many Viking themed tattoos covering his pale kin. The other could pass for an all American Midwestern wrestler and even wears a White Sox baseball cap but is revealed by his thick New Zealand accent and his proclivity to say’ “Gidd’ay mate.”

I’d seen the New Zealander training every day for the last two weeks. He participated in every training session and could often be seen and heard during the resting periods and late at night working the bags or training with partners in the ring. His ethic was juxtaposed to the Viking who I’d seen only once lifting weights. This isn’t to say the Viking wasn’t training—I just hadn’t seen it.

Naturally I rooted for the fighter who I’d seen training at all waking hours. Surely no one works that hard to lose. Before his fight he was working on some Greco-Roman guard with the pro MMA fighter who fought Boy from Thaiand.

The two hulking figures entered the ring and the fight began. A few strikes were thrown but it was clear that the New Zealander intended to implement the “Ground and Pound” technique of taking the opponent to the ground and throwing strikes. After a failed suplex attempt, the New Zealander succeeded in taking his opponent down with a trip. In the grapple, the Viking managed to clamp on a guillotine choke, which the New Zealander defended for more than a full minute. The guillotine choke is one of the most frustrating submissions in MMA. In a moment, a fighter tucks his chin down too much and is caught in a choke that is very difficult to escape from. It doesn’t matter how much stamina the fighter has or how much preparation he’s made, he needs to keep calm, reposition and hope that the choker’s arms get tired. If the fighter does survive the choke, the choker’s arms are usually exhausted thus leaving advantage to the escapee.



The crowd cheered as the New Zealander eventually escaped and submitted his weary foe with strikes.

“Hey, you! We’re still going out to have a laugh, right?”

“Yeah! I’m down.” I replied, not really knowing what I was in for at the fabled Patong…