by Gian Chansrichawla
Too many football fans in Bangkok spend their weekends supporting a team thousands of miles away, when two unparalleled sporting experiences are right in their backyard.
I’m not quite sure when I realized that the strange blue warehouse opposite the Bangkok Post headquarters wasn’t actually a warehouse at all, but one of the most unique football grounds I had ever come across. Living in Sukhumvit 24, the stadium should’ve been the most interesting feature of my travels, but as an elementary schooler who cared more about Dragon Ball than football, it would be years before I would finally come to understand what an impressive arena was on my former doorstep.
Growing up as a well-off international school kid, my neighborhood only stretched from Sukhumvit to Rama IV. I didn’t dare wander across to the wrong side of the tracks. It was a locality drawn as much by lifestyle as it was by geography, hardened by apathy and class antagonism. It’s a phenomenon and stands as a rare relic of genuine community integration in Thai football.
However, I was nowhere near this cynical (or this much of a Marxist) back in Middle School. In fact, I wasn’t even independent-minded enough to seek out a local team to support. I, like most others around me, had bought into the lie that attempting to build a connection with a team thousands of miles away was a more rewarding experience than supporting your local club, because of “quality.”
My interest in Thai football was limited to peering over at the kits during my trips to the shopping mall and catching the occasional highlights, but without much enthusiasm from my peers, I didn’t actively seek these things out.
In line with that, the team to support would have to come to me instead - and it did when Muangthong United’s U19 side came to play against my school team. Reading the glowing coverage in the school paper as a 13-year-old played a big role in setting me down the path of becoming a writer myself. I would cover the same ‘fixture’ two or three years later, which helped me land the Muangthong United internship to which I owe a lot in terms of experience and exposure.
With the choice clear, I went with a few friends to our first game at the SCG Stadium in 2014. Having had the opportunity to watch a Champions League game at Stamford Bridge two years earlier, I shouldn’t have been impressed by a half-empty 12,000 seater stadium under the highway. But there was something about it which hooked me in right away. It felt like something close, something you could reach out and touch, something you could belong too. It instantly tore apart the idea that supporting a team that you would rarely ever have the chance to see in person was somehow more rewarding. I understood finally that football isn’t about seeking out the team with the best players and most trophies - it is about finding a home.
The result helped too. Mario Gjurovski hit a brace to help the Kirin win 3-0 over struggling PTT Rayong in a captivating attacking performance. It was a game that got us hooked - while the chances were few and far between at that time, we tried whenever we could to return to the ground, and tried to catch games on TV. It was a gradual process, but by mid-2015 I was more interested in the football here than I was in the Premier League.
I became familiar with the stadium grounds and came to quickly appreciate them. The sound of the drums from the Ultra Stand served as a perfect complement to the football on the pitch, and I found myself humming their tunes rather frequently. Later, as an intern, I made a habit of giving a ten-baht coin to a man who graced the street corner with the tones of his traditional Thai flute after every match. The experience of being in the ground, amongst the fans, under the floodlights - nothing one sees on TV can ever match that, regardless of how good the ‘quality’ is or how expensive the players are.
I remember the packed stadium and electric atmosphere when Theerathon faced his former club Buriram for the first time. I was right behind the goal to witness Chanathip’s incredible, single-handed takedown of the Brisbane defense in 2017. I saw most of 2018 from the press-box, furiously typing extended match reports and occasionally daring to question the daunting dragon that was Radovan Curcic as we watched a half-season of sideways passes. I will never forget the feeling when Sarach’s long shot hit the back of the net against Buriram in 2016.
It was a while before I ventured on any away trips, given the trouble with distance and limited public transport to most grounds in Bangkok. The PAT quickly rose to the top of my bucket list when they returned to T1 after their second relegation, and even more so when they hired former National Team boss Kiatisuk ‘Zico’ Senamuang. I made a couple of trips in the second half of that season, but it was one particular encounter the campaign after which really made an impression on me.
Going to my first away game as a Muangthong United intern, I was advised to be cautious, and informed once again of the ‘danger’ of this fixture. Away fans were not allowed in, so I was naturally discouraged, but I knew the rare opportunity to experience the legendary fixture first hand was too good to turn down. I was careful to wear my jacket as I rounded the corner of Sunthorn Khosa road to join the Port fans heading toward the stadium, zipping up just enough to obscure the Muangthong logo on my chest. I was already sweating buckets and the extra clothing didn’t help.
To my surprise, instead of being greeted by the angry mob of Port fans I was conditioned to expect and be wary of, I soon befriended an extremely kind and welcoming group of supporters, the foreign fans of the Port FC Sandpit. To prove the point, Tim prodded me to unzip the jacket and reveal the Muangthong logo to the Port fans sitting on the next table, who jokingly booed and jeered. Despite coming as an employee of their greatest rivals, every person I met at the PAT Stadium was incredibly welcoming. Having just met me, they were kind enough to give me extensive insights on their club for my first long-form feature, or at least the first one I am genuinely proud of, on the club’s recent heavy investment.
It was a totally different ball-game, however, once I entered the gates. Haggling with the security guard to let me in despite donning an SCG-specific press-pass was a nightmare, and was punctuated by the King’s Anthem informing me I was late. I sprinted up the steps and walked into a cauldron of noise and energy which seemed surreal. The crowd was fierce, cheering every dangerous tackle and giving hell to every Kirin player. It had been a long time since they took all three points from their arch enemy on this pitch, and you could sense that this was their best chance.
This passion wasn’t, as I learned in interviewing fans for the article, some crazed violence which I had been led to believe and fear. Their feeling was that of being home, of being a community, and a deep sense of belonging. It is a sense that, no matter where in Thailand I travel, is the strongest at these two grounds - and may be the source of the scorching rivalry between the two clubs.
During breaks in play I found myself staring over Zone C and over at the building on Sukhumvit 24, feeling nostalgic for my younger days and old home. They faded as the sky turned dark upon a goalless half. Three quick goals from Sanukran Sarach and Heberty temporarily quieted the crowd, but Port’s 2-goal fightback rose the PAT back into a crescendo which very nearly edged their side into a historic comeback.
What makes these stadiums truly great is nothing to do with their design, or their size, or their facilities. Both are relatively modest and ironically, both sit below Bangkok expressways. What makes these two grounds unparalleled experiences in Thai football is the feeling you get when the ground is packed and when the supporters are in full voice. Anyone in Bangkok longing for the overplayed Premier League stadium experience owes it to themselves to experience these grounds, and to understand that football isn’t about finding the club with the most trophies or biggest international followings; it’s about finding a home.
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