Adventures In Nonthaburi
by Grant Aitken
It was a sticky evening around the outbreak of hot season when I first pledged my loyalty to Thai football. Surrounded by friends, welcoming strangers and considerate professional players, I was provided with a sense of belonging I'd not yet achieved elsewhere since moving to the country. Football was always a central character in my life and gathered outside a football stadium slurping a cold beer I was in my element. I knew the rules here and they transcended language and cultural barriers which I'd struggled with since moving to a new country from my home in England.
However it was a considerably wetter night when my interest in the local game was ignited. Rain poured down as I realized I'd not thoroughly prepared myself for the dramatic weather shifts before making a permanent move to Thailand. I was in a hurry to get home as I'd earlier discovered that the Thai national team were in action that evening. It was going to be broadcast on one of the few channels the television at my humble appartement actually showed. My passion for the game had somewhat dwindled in the first few months since relocating, as other matters took precedent, so I was curious as to the standard of play in my newly adopted nation. The rain was an irritant as it brought traffic to a stand still. I'd left England to get away from deluges like this.
After finally making my way home, shoes and socks in hand so as not to ruin the leather treading through the by now ankle deep surface flooding, I was greeted by my, then girlfriend, and now abiding wife, Wan. Whilst showering I set about convincing her to sit down and enjoy the game with me. She reluctantly agreed, but despite her lack of eagerness, proved surprisingly informative about the players on view. She was able to provide names and clubs of prominent players and even shared unrequested opinions about the attractiveness of certain athletes on show.
Thailand lost the match 5-2 against a more organized Libyan side. It was rather humiliating for the South East Asian side and later the game was earmarked as a turning point for the national team as the head coach made sweeping changes. However, my overriding feelings on the game were one of frustration. The Thai's were technically a match for their opponents and tried to play a neat short passing game which often petered in the final 3rd of the pitch. Discipline and physicality were lacking, however, and this was regularly played upon with a series of long balls by their savvier opponents. My enthusiasm during the game had spiraled as I willed on the Thai side that attempted to play the more attractive football of the two, albeit with limited success. As the goals flew in past the hapless Thai keeper, it became apparent to me that as interest was escalating, Wan's had peaked and died. Nonetheless, pleased that at least somebody was enjoying themselves, she suggested going to watch our nearest football team, Muangthong United.
Muangthong happened to be one of the biggest in the country and their ground was reachable in under ten minutes from both my home and place of work. The convenience was pleasing, as was the realization that I'd heard that team name before as it was the impending destination of English striker, Jay Bothroyd. His transformation from England international to Thai league recruit, inside a four year span, had understandably captured the imagination of the local press. There were also quite a few eyebrows raised back in the UK too. Robbie Fowler had also joined Muangthong in the twilight of his career a few seasons earlier. The former Liverpool man's term was deemed a commercial success, but his on the field performances suggested he has far past his best. Bothroyd, on the other hand, had spent the last year on loan at Sheffield Wednesday in The Championship and was still capable of competing at a high level.
I had to wait a few months for the opening of the new season but my experiences after a few home matches had proved to be massively positive. Seasoned fans had been warm and welcoming, and my regular attendance at matches was lauded by those proud that their team was gaining foreign interest. Umbrellas had been shared during sporadic unseasonal bouts of rain, spare scarves were offered when it was time to serenade the players and free alcohol had regularly been provided, along with a wry Thai smile that expats still appreciate regardless of how long they've inhabited these shores.
I had already brought a friend from England to a local derby match against rivals Bangkok Glass. He loved the atmosphere. The "Ultra" fans come equipped with banners, megaphones and drum kits, and whilst crowds are smaller than back home, they double their efforts to compensate for this. My friend bought a club shirt at half time and wore it for the second half when we were able to celebrate our fellow compatriot, Bothroyd, scoring a winning goal. The same friend's wife tells me he's still desperately trying to squeeze the life out of that same shirt over five years later, so I'm confident his match day experience had been positive.
With the knowledge that my new Muangthong cohorts would provide necessary hospitality, I decided it was time to encourage other football fanatics and long term Thai residents to join the party. The team had just come off the back of a five match winning run, which gave me added confidence they could perform on the day I would bring my buddies to scrutinize their performance. Unlike my friend that came on holiday for a fortnight, these friends were a little more worldly and already accustomed to the welcoming nature of Thai hosts. That being said, I saw it as my duty to turn some fans with a passing interest in the local game to seasoned fanatics as I'd quickly gained an affinity for the team.
Ever since my first game I'd been accompanied by my future-wife to every home fixture. In the beginning this was probably out of a sense of duty as my spoken Thai was, and ashamedly still is, extremely limited. Although very quickly she developed an affection for the club, or more precisely the players.
In Thailand it's common for young adults to be kept cocooned by their parents until their late-twenties and beyond. This means they get to enjoy a full childhood without the same pressures to gain independence quickly that western countries insist upon. I now have two boys with my wife and her mothering instincts kick into overdrive whenever the players’ backs are up against the wall. For somebody who was generally indifferent to attending games at the start, she is now known to cry when certain loyal players are sold on.
In addition I was frequently joined by a work colleague, Andy. He was fully aware the game wasn't up to the speed of the English game, but provided the Thai league match ups didn't clash with his beloved Manchester United playing, he was usually available to attend. And, for this occasion the new faces were James, another Red Devil, Rich a devoted Liverpool fan and Jeff, an Irishman, who favored no team in particular but in his own words was "up for the craic."
The troops were rallied and a suitable meeting spot was decided upon. It was a late evening kick off which left us plenty of time to buy tickets and enjoy some related chit chat before the match took place. This fixture saw Muangthong United pitted against Suphanburi, an ambitious club that were based a few hours drive away. We made our way inside the ground as I did my best to sell the local game to my friends.
The stadium itself is an intimate setting, 15,000 capacity which is usually at least two thirds full but with enough to accommodate the fair-weather fans when the big occasions roll around. Thankfully, today's fixture was considered to be just that as empty chairs were a rarity. We made our way to our seats, passed the drummers and the already vocal off fans. The initial reaction could not fail to impress. Audiences are more mixed than England with the fairer sex making up half the attendance. Practically every fan is sporting their sides colours with many choosing to wear previous seasons jerseys to prove their long term commitment to the club, which was actually in its infancy having been officially established less than a decade earlier.
A rousing version of the King's anthem commenced, before the away fans seized the initiative to spur on their team with a chant. The home fans respectfully allowed them a 30 second platform before drowning them out with songs of their own. A brief glance at my friends faces give me the impression they were pleasantly surprised with the raucous din both sets of fans set about making. Both Manchester United and Liverpool fans confessed that the relentless cheering was something that even Old Trafford and Anfield spectators couldn't match, even if their numbers do heavily outnumber these teams. So far so good.
The match started slowly as both teams felt their way into the match. After half an hour we found ourselves in front. A long range effort with a significant deflection that took it past a dumbfounded keeper. I don't think either team warranted a lead at that stage but I was certainly happy that things were going to plan. However you know what they say about best laid plans.
Five minutes later the opposition's tricky winger slalomed through our defenses and scored from the edge of the area. A quality goal that could have graced any top league in the world, but nonetheless an event I'd rather hadn't happened. For the first time in the game the home fans were rendered mute. The goalscorer should have been elated with his solo effort, but instead of going ballistic having single handedly clawed his team back into the match, he approached the home fan contingent and offered a 'wai', the Thai sign of respect, before holding up his hands apologetically. My gang deciphered he must have been a former player, something I was later able to confirm. In response the home fans gave the player a hearty round of applause for his reserved celebration. The usual dejection I felt conceding a goal had immediately been wiped out by the respect shown by the goalscorer. I've seen players refuse to celebrate before, but never witnessed it reciprocated with such a unanimous response by opposing fans. It was clear that as with the country in general, respect was paramount.
Problems quickly amplified for Muangthong as the visitors added another before halftime. The old adage that scoring before the interval is the best time to do so was certainly true for this match. After the break Suphanburi scored another three goals and put themselves into an insurmountable lead as Muangthong added a late consolation to make the score 2-5 with a few minutes remaining. Quite a thrashing, and even worse that it was to be witnessed on home soil.
As the final whistle rapidly approached, and the unavoidable sense of doom loomed as it became clear that our chances of salvaging anything from the game were nil. I began to feel a little dejected. Up until this point Muangthong had been central figures in the race for the Thai League title. However, my hope that my new recruits would be swept up in the momentum of chasing the league title were ruined as would lose ground on the league leaders with an inevitable defeat. I'd experienced defeat as a Muangthong fan before but never of this magnitude. We'd been absolutely played off the park that evening, after spending much of the 1st half singing the praises of the club I was a little embarrassed at this point. Suphanburi were a competent team, but not expected to challenge for honors. After this match, I don't think Muangthong would be either.
I think the referee blew early, possibly out of pity. Unusually, many fans had remained in their seats, whereas I'd anticipated many home fans would have left this disastrous showing early. I was expecting echoes of discontent but there were none, and nobody seemed bitter at the drubbing we had been on the wrong end of.
As I began to ponder why supporters seemed so indifferent to the result, the players had already managed to complete a half-lap of the pitch to thank fans and paused at the base of the Ultra section. Fans began serenading the players with a familiar song and scarves were held high as they belted out the club anthem. I'm doubtful this was deserved but you can't question how healthy the mentality of Thai fans is. The disappointment of the loss had already been shrugged off and respect was later paid to the worthy winners as the opposition approached the same set of supporters to show their respect immediately after.
Our boys were short on the day, but rather than point fingers and single out individuals, the supporters saw it as their duty to lift the players and show solidarity, as opposed to fretting about their own ambitions for the team. In private criticism is attributed to those most deserving, but inside the stadium the job of a fan in Thailand is to support, regardless of the situation. Bitterness or hostility will only make a negative situation worse. Those who warrant it can be reprimanded by the coaches so leave it to the professionals. I can't argue with the rationality of this view. It's not easy to put disappointment aside for the perceived good of the team but the fans here manage it with a smile on their faces. The burden of defeat was being shouldered by the fans as well as players.
My mood had immediately lifted and as we exited the stadium. The rest of the group conceded the positive atmosphere was refreshing and in stark contrast to what you would expect in the English game.
Buoyed by what we had just witnessed we began to make plans for the remainder of the evening. The first task was where to find our next beverage, participating in the few chants that were sung in English was thirsty work.
We were duly pointed in the direction of a man sitting next to two ice coolers who was selling three cans of beer in a plastic bag for a hundred baht, less than 20 meters from the ground.
After a few cans, of perhaps it was bags, we started to mingle with some of the local fans. Conversations were more focused on our appearance at the game than any events that happened in the actual match. The team's performance should have been disheartening, but there's a special resilience attached to the people as their welcoming nature took precedent. Before we knew it we were being given singing lessons as a small crowd belted out some of the fan favourites. In the midst of it James and Jeff had somehow managed to instigate something resembling a mosh pit to boot.
At this point I was grinning from ear to ear, delighted that we'd been accepted by the die hards when I received a tap on the shoulder. It was my girlfriend instructing me to make way, as I was blocking the path to the motorcycle taxis. I turned around to see a young Thai man with wet hair, he'd clearly just showered. On closer inspection he had a bandaged ankle and was presumably eager to take his weight off it. Only after spotting a club polo shirt did the penny finally start to drop. This was actually one of the first team players. He'd scored a dramatic last gasp winning goal the week before. Wan whispered his name to me as I quickly stepped aside, but not before making the poor man post for a picture first.
He was probably unable to drive him after picking up the injury. Maybe he was on his way to the hospital or more likely just wanted to get home via the fastest route possible. After research I later found out the player had previously been capped at national team level and was, at the time, one of the top ten all time leading goal scorers for the league. It was endearing to me that the man thought nothing of queuing up alongside fans to take a method of transport that others in his wage bracket would deem beneath them.
I was assured by seasoned fans that this level of humility was nothing unusual and encouraged to loiter near the player's cafeteria to meet a few more team members. One by one players emerged from the changing facilities to a small gathering of fans. There were maybe a dozen autograph hunters, but certainly no more than 20. Each player dutifully posed for pictures offering a customary smile and wai afterwards. The captain of the team and goalkeeper had a decent grasp of English and even indulged us in some polite small talk, even though the heavy defeat must still have stung.
Yet, it was meeting the foreign contingent that was a highlight of the evening. There weren't many overseas faces in attendance that evening and our presence sparked their curiosity. Amongst them were a former Korean international that had been to a World Cup, players that had been capped for Australian and Macedonia, as well as a former Serbian youth international and of course big name signing, Jay Bothroyd. Each one approached with as much enthusiasm to see us as we had to meet them. There's a special comradery that exists between expats living abroad. We all moved to attain a certain lifestyle but still seek to build rapport with those that share the same ideals we have in our home countries and continents.
It's one of the things that I like about moving to another country. You go to great lengths to find something in common with a fellow alien and strike a bond, with more effort than you would probably afford back home. I was delighted that this unwritten rule still exists with international caliber footballers. I would later meet one of the players five years on. He only spent one season at the club but remembered my face and he was happy to spend 20 minutes of his time discussing the local game, whilst our children played together.
After wishing the players all the best for the remainder of the season I'd been instructed that it was time to head home. I'd reached my limits as the beers took effect and luckily for me I had the proverbial voice reason alongside me in the shape of my other-half. I'm not sure what the Thai word is for "saint," or if they even have one, but if they do it's probably the same word as wife. I'm in no doubt that I'd have been led astray by the others and chaperoned into the nearest ale house for further gratuitous intoxication without her presence.
We said our goodbyes to the group as Wan flagged down a passing taxi. The rest of the night's events I had to gather from my workmate, Andy.
The boys' plan for the remainder of the evening was pretty solid. Stumble to the closest watering hole until they had outstayed their welcome, and then move on to the city to find a bar with a large enough screen to accommodate their beer-induced failing eyesight and catch the late kick off of the English Premier League games. The time difference at that time of year was seven hours, which left an ominous amount of extended drinking time between the Thai and English matches.
The nearest bar happened to be located adjacent to the reception area of a Novotel. Unfortunately for some that evening the hotel was also playing host to a wedding party, which by that time had vacated a function room and were savoring the last few hours of their special day in the same location. A beer and a half later and the gang had taken it upon themselves to serenade the newlyweds with a rendition of Oasis "Wonderwall". It remains open for debate as to how well this was received by the wedding party and whether they were singing along to the music or acappella after one of the group spontaneously felt the need to exercise their vocal cords.
Probably fearing they may have pressed their luck and outstayed their welcome it was decided the troop should finish their drinks quickly and make their way into Bangkok, where their rowdy behavior could be encouraged in a less sophisticated setting.
A taxi was required, and as the eldest of the group, Rich, had decided he was the man for this particular task. No sooner had the boys vacated the hotel then one whizzed passed. By now it was rapidly approaching midnight, and fearing a mass exodus of cabbies at the stroke of 12, Rich raced to catch the driver's attention. In his enthusiasm he must have misjudged where the curb ended. Man down! Rich had fallen to a heap on the roadside clutching his ankle. With assistance he made his way back to his feet, only to find significant discomfit trying to use his now injured limb. After taking a few minutes to assess the situation, he decided to power through, no doubt assisted in this choice by a group of sudden medical experts eager to carry on the night's proceedings.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully as they proceeded to the capital's centre to watch a game. The ankle was still troublesome for Rich, but the numbing effect of the beer was apparently enough to help him forget his injury. After the match the four made their way home, slightly worse for wear.
It wasn't until the next morning that Rich's mild discomfort had now turned into antagonizing pain as the alcohol deserted his body. A light red swelling had somehow harvested a purple grapefruit into his ankle overnight. The genuine fear evident on his wife's face had persuaded Rich that he had required (accredited) medical advice after all. X-rays confirmed a clean break in his ankle. I also heard some talk of gangrene which may, or may not, have been exaggerated as the story was later relayed back to me. Month's of arduous physical therapy followed, and despite best intentions this had certainly put a dampener on the evening proceedings for one of my guests.
I'm pleased to say, though, that James and Jeff have been back to sample the match-day hospitality on numerous occasions. Their appetite for the Thai game has even led them to take in a few trips around the country to combine travel with an appreciation for football.
As for Rich, his ankle is now as good as new but he's not yet dared to step back into a Thai football arena since his accident. Apparently, it's much safer to watch it on T.V.
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