In May, 2007, we had travelled in large numbers to Nakorn Pathom for a 4:00pm Wednesday afternoon fixture against the local side. The game kicked off in bright sunshine (to match our optimism), but midway through the second half, with Chonburi leading 1-0, the heavens opened. I have rarely seen rain like it. And, up until that point, I had never seen a football match played in such conditions.
The water was knee deep in some places - chest deep on Pipob - but the referee resolutely refused to abandon the match, even though the downpour was incessant and the game had descended into farce. No, this official wasn’t for turning.
Somehow, and in spite of the biblical nature of the weather, the full ninety minutes were played out and by the final whistle the pitch was completely under water - we had to send out a lifeboat to rescue Pipob - and, it was still raining!
It was at this point, that we realised we all still had to get home. Well, actually we had to get back to the bus first, and that was slowly disappearing beneath the rising tide. We all huddled together in the away stand not daring to make a run for it and discussing our plan of action.
After about 30 minutes of non stop rain and increasing panic, someone on the inside opened the door to the team's dressing room and we all splashed across to the relatively dry haven. We spent the best part of an hour and a half sheltering in there with all the bemused players and the backroom staff.
Eventually the rain eased enough for us to get back on the bus, but we still had to navigate the flooded streets that lay beyond the confines of the stadium. Thankfully, the driver somehow managed to drive safely through the, by now, submerged town and we were finally on our way back to dry land.
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