by Dale Farrington
In February, 2013, Chonburi were invited to compete for the Gem Corporation Cup in a match against Samut Prakarn United. This was also the home club's season launch party and cause for celebration. With the 'big boys' in town, there was a real buzz about the place and the local vendors - including the the club shop - were doing a roaring trade. It was party time!
A fair number of Sharks fans had made the short trip to the rustic surroundings of the Lam Fah Pha Subdistrict Municipality Stadium in order to join the festivities and get some idea of how the team was shaping up ahead of the new league campaign, which was just four weeks away. We were made very welcome by the locals and there was a good atmosphere in and around the ground, pre match.
As is always the case at these events, the music was loud (too loud!) and was accompanied by the screeching voices of the young female MCs. It takes a brave soul to endure this onslaught for too long. However, endure it we did and we were ultimately to be rewarded for our perseverance.
One by one, the players, followed by the coaching staff, then the senior management and finally the local dignitaries (including those from the Gem Corporation. It was their cup, remember) were introduced to the crowd and took their places on the temporary stage directly in front of the main stand.
"There's a lot of people on that stage," commented the lady sitting next to me.
"Yes," I replied.
Seconds later, there were a lot of people on their backsides on the ground, as the rickety structure gave way under the enormous weight it clearly wasn't capable of supporting. A gasp went up from the spectators as the carnage unfolded before our very eyes. Thankfully, no-one was hurt. It could easily have been quite serious, but actually ended up being very funny. However, this wasn't to be the end of the day's drama.
Once everyone had been declared fit and the debris had been cleared away, preparations for the actual match continued. The teams came out to a muted fanfare and, after the obligatory handshakes with the higher-ups, lined up ready for kick off. We had twenty two eager players (some of whom were limping!), four competent looking officials and an expectant crowd all ready for the game to start. But, one thing we didn't have, was a ball.
For some bright spark had decided that, rather than let the referee carry it out, it should be delivered by a man in a microlight. So we waited and we waited and we waited. The players got so bored they decided to organise an impromptu kickabout on their own. Finally, a familiar buzzing sound was heard overhead and the pilot (is that what he's called?) landed his flying machine in the centre circle to overwhelming indifference. The ref grabbed the ball from him, and once he'd sorted out all his wires and sails (??) and got off the pitch, we were underway.
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