by Gian Chansrichawla
The story of my journey in Thai football actually begins thousands of miles away from the country I call home, with a Chelsea victory over Manchester United at Stamford Bridge. From a young age, my dad made it a point to impart on me his support for the Blues from his time growing up in England. When the opportunity arose, he made sure that I would experience a classic Premier League fixture first hand.
While the game itself may not have been the most memorable, the pure euphoria that poured out on to the streets of West London afterwards is something that I will never forget. Totally hooked by the feeling, I remember distinctly wishing that I too could have the privilege of experiencing such inexpressible excitement on a weekly basis - something I had previously thought was reserved exclusively for those that were in touching distance of Europe’s biggest clubs.
It would become clear to me that my answer lay in Thai domestic football. I remember feverishly googling everything I could about each of Bangkok’s top-division clubs, attempting to find one that I could call my own while sitting in a waiting area at Heathrow just days after my live match-day experience. Bangkok United, Bangkok Glass, Port FC, Muangthong United, BEC Tero…each and every one of them were put under as intense a scrutiny as the 13-year-old me could muster.
Returning to the drag of normal life meant that my time for fantasising was limited. The struggles of being a socially anxious middle schooler forbade me the time I needed to explore. Catching some games on TV was little consolation - I needed to be part of the action. However, with our Saturday evening cable diet mostly comprising of the “higher quality” football provided by the Premier League, my engagement was often limited to highlight shows, which soon became my primary source of learning Thai. Occasionally, I satiated my appetite by staring longingly at the club’s shirts at Supersport stores - a memory which remains particularly nostalgic.
Being an impressionable adolescent, the lack of interest in domestic football around me made it hard to sustain my inquisitive yearning. That was, until, a fortuitous turn of fate.
Muangthong United were coming to train at my school.
Finally, a link was made available for me, and I didn’t waste any time in snatching the opportunity. My first game at the SCG Stadium was the Kirin’s 3-1 victory over PTT Rayong.
Instantly, the atmosphere had me hooked. I thought that the stadium size was ideal. The smaller scale was actually one of the most lovable things about the whole experience. At the same time, there was enough genuine quality on display to truly enthral and excite. Seeing players like Mario Gjurovski, Cleiton Silva and Teerasil Dangda on the ball was a joy to behold, as they tore apart the relegation threatened opposition with a level of class and nonchalance that left me beyond enthused.
Initially, my fascination with Thai football came down to the concept of distances. It was crazy that the same rush of excitement could present itself amid circumstances that could not be further than that of the Premier League, and not just in the geographical sense. The other aspect of that was the distance between the fans and the players themselves - something that had become almost untenable in the ‘upper echelons’ of the sport. In the downscaled, picturesque grounds of the Thai League, it does genuinely feel like every single fan present matters.
For all of the writing that I do, the buzz around a football stadium remains an indescribable feeling.
Six years on, Thai football has become an integral part of my life. Currently employed as the South-East Asia editor for Football Tribe, I do my best to keep track of the league from the distant shores of the United Kingdom, where I am currently pursuing my higher education.
However, the reality of the situation is that my experience is rare amongst the football fans in Thailand. While tens of thousands of people turn in to watch Manchester United vs Liverpool during that lucrative Sunday 7:30pm time-slot, only a fraction of that audience would tune in if Buriram United and Muangthong faced off at the same time. The situation is even more dire at the ticket gates, as attendances continue to slide year on year.
In light of this unfortunate reality, the question of developing Thai football comes down to getting more fans through the gates at the nation’s most iconic sporting venues. Thai clubs must look enviously over at nations such as Indonesia, who regularly set continental turnout records when sides like Persib Bandung and Persela Lamongan clash. In my eyes, the most dissipating aspect of Thailand’s 2018 AFF Cup failure was how the crowd at the Rajamangala Stadium paled in comparison to the rapturous gatherings at the Bukit Jalil in Kuala Lumpur or the parties on the streets of Hanoi.
In my view, there is no lack of passion for the sport in Thailand. However, the difference lies in the fact that local teams lack legitimacy when compared to their counterparts in Europe. With little to no lasting histories behind them, ties between clubs and their fans often come down merely to geography and convenience.
It is an issue that won’t be helped until clubs manage to truly root themselves to local groups and communities, unifying themselves with the only force in the land that can give them true longevity. While the motives of club owners may vary across the nation, from financial to political, almost all of them would benefit from building closer ties to their supporters and local communities. The backing of sponsors and benefactors can disappear during economic downturn or political upheaval, but the support of a true fan will never vanish.
While often maligned and criticised by opposing fans, it’s hard to argue that Buriram United aren’t the masters of this art.
Despite hailing from a province of just 1.5 million people which regularly features amongst the poorest in the nation, the name Buriram United sends chills down the spine of fans as far afield as Korea and Japan. Despite referring to a mundane, average locale of the Thai countryside, it is a name that has achieved international renown.
For people living in Buriram, the club and the province are one. Support of the “Thunder Castle” goes far beyond simply a weekend past-time - it becomes ingrained in the daily life of the people of the province, transforming into a vehicle for their collective expression.
This goes hand-in-hand with the observation that, for many supporters of Thai football, going to games is an event rather than a habit. While the passionate core of supporters can be seen at almost every club across the land, it is mobilizing the larger masses of people - not necessarily the ones dressed in balaclavas, waving flags - that a football club can genuinely become a meaningful part of their lives.
With over a million other things to do on a Saturday night in Bangkok, it is understandably hard for a trip to the PAT Stadium or the SCG to measure up, but that’s because it shouldn’t have to. Successful football leagues don’t compete with pubs or concert halls as an attraction, they become ingrained as part of the culture of a certain area or community. Unfortunately, too many clubs are preoccupied with selling a product or promoting a brand, leaving fans to do the legwork in building their own pockets of supporter culture. A greater compromise must be found if the domestic league is to blossom in the way we all know it can.
Without fans, it is impossible for clubs to achieve this level of importance and integration - yet without achieving it, the process of attracting fans is reduced to little more than a crapshoot. Breaking this vicious cycle in order to ignite that same level of passion amongst fans and legitimacy amongst clubs should serve as motivation for those of us who want to weigh in and play a part in Thai football media.
I am lucky enough that my current role has expanded by domain beyond simply Thailand to include the entirety of the region. Being able to see the progress of Thailand’s neighbours under an analytical magnifying glass has really helped contextualize the developments going on in our own country.
From this, I have learned that there is a unique cohesion between the different nations of South-East Asia when it comes to football. My experience editing daily updates during the 2018 AFF Cup played a major role in helping me see just how the feeling of companionship and brotherhood generated by football in this region pays little attention to national borders. The friendly rivalry and healthy competition will only serve to push each nation closer to that salient World Cup dream.
So, as the center of a region brimming with potential, Thailand should be well poised to ride this wave all the way to the world’s biggest stages.
When the War Elephants come up short in their quest for glory, explanations such as corruption, a lack of discipline or any other conjectures become standard discourse among fans. It has become normal to habitually point to signs that football in the nation is declining, or that the pursuit of World Cup qualification is hopeless. Thailand is in danger of becoming the land of pessimism in a region of passion, where genuine emotional investment is turning into an endangered relic.
In short, too many people can’t see the same game that the 13-year-old first fell in love with.
When asked what holds Thailand back, my answer is always simple. Football in this country will never improve until young Thai football fans like myself search endlessly for live football and stare longingly at club kits in Supersports. Igniting that childish enchantment in support of the beautiful game is the final missing piece.
Once the names Buriram United, Port or Muangthong are said with the same air of fascination as Chelsea, Liverpool and Manchester United, football will have a bright future in our country.
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