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Short Essay 1 This short essay series has been several weeks in coming. It will take being written in parts. It all began when I read the seminal article "Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight" by the influential anthropologist, Clifford Geertz [read it here: Deep Play Notes on the Balinese Cockfight, Geertz PDF.pdf] . As someone who has lived in Thailand for 9 years, very closely to the fabric of Thailand's Muay Thai, a documenting husband of a wife who has fought more here than any other westerner, from festival fights in fields in the provinces, to National television broadcasts, and as someone who has read pretty much every academic article in English examining the sport, historically, sociologically, I was stunned when reading Geertz's view of Balinese Cockfighting, much of it researched in the 1960s. I felt, instinctively, that in his descriptions he was pointing the reader to something that lay behind and beneath not only Balinese cockfighting, but traditional Muay Thai in Thailand as it has developed and thrived in the social fabric of 1,000s of villages, over hundreds of years, all the way through to high profile National Stadia celebrations and promotions of the sport. In reading the essay I felt someone was describing Muay Thai through a spyglass, capturing its structure and its truth, its reason for being. Why in combat sports does losing feel so, irrationally bad? That is one of the lasting questions that floats behind the article shorts that follow. There is to losing some extra stain that goes beyond normal aspects of social loss. No matter how much consoling, or arguments about fairness to a decision, there is a powerful debilitation that comes with losing in a fight. The arguments behind these article shorts seem to go towards a possible explanation, uncovering parts of "the human" that sometimes have been lost to the modern conversation. I read Geertz essay and I was swept up with associations, and avenues of interpretation for Thailand's Muay Thai, especially the Muay Thai that makes up its root system, the networks of festival fights all throughout the provinces in temporary rings on festivals and in seasons. This vast array of informal fights, which westerners seldom see or participate in, is organized around many of the social principles brought forth by Geertz. It's almost as if he's speaking about the Muay Thai of the villages which has fed the Tree of Thailand's Muay Thai for decades if not centuries, but in code. The masculinities, the representative symbolism of the fighter/cock, the bonds and dynamics of betting (making up the very fabric of provincial Muay Thai), all of it felt like "Muay Thai"...but expressed in a different culture, in a different rite or practice, witnessed and described more than 50 years ago. I of course am no expert in the provincial Muay Thai of Thailand. Sylvie's fought in maybe 30 of these kinds of fights, so we have a lived experience as a participant, and we have the advantage of having taken an ethnographic approach to the legendary Muay Thai of Thailand, documenting the men and the muay of that bygone era, so we are able to create cross-associations and perhaps identify important themes that hold the diversities of Muay Thai together. And, Geertz's descriptions ring resonant with some of my own thinking about the nature of Thailand's provincial and traditional Muay Thai, dovetailing perhaps with the narrative (agrarian) nature of Time (traditional Time discussed here: "The Essence of Muay Thai – 6 Core Aspects That Make it What It Is" and more philosophically, in a cultural criticism sense, here: How Duration Creates Meaning Through Narration with further thoughts found linked here: The god of Muay Thai - Phra Pirap: Where the Real and the Unreal Come Together), all this comes nicely against the kinds of arguments that Geertz is making. I've read the Geertz essay carefully in 4 passes so far, each time uncovering more, but it kept defying me, not giving me a natural way into the unlocking mechanism it presents. Geertz as an anthropologist tried to steer clear of "systems" thinking about cultures, and advocated for what he called "thick description", trying to sink into the rich complexity of what is happening in a scene. He wants it to remain "wild" in some sense, not boiled down to a few academic principles. And this is part of what makes pulling the threads I sense are so illuminating towards Thailand's Muay Thai, difficult. You want to bridge, but not extract. The first thing that comes to mind though is the Thai gambler's perspective on animality. I say the "gambler", because I want to take the position of someone who is invested in a village Muay Thai fight, and a participant. The gambler's perspective really holds the fabric strings, more than even a referee's perspective might. The Animal: Chon The first challenge of seeing how or why Thailand's Muay Thai and Balinese Cockfighting of Geertz's description share an underlying structure is being able to move from the social rites of animal fighting (in Bali - yes, I know Thailand has a long culture of cockfighting, and that some of drawn parallels, but it's the Balinese description we are working from) can map onto fights organized between human fighters. How is an animal like a person? To understand this you need to understand "Chon". In 2015 Sylvie and I had a tremendous night in Chiang Mai being taken to underground beetle fighting. Not only was it a pure revelation that such a thing happens (seasonally), we immediately started drawing parallels with the local festival fights and small stadia Muay Thai we were experiencing. We could see across the animal/human divide, into Muay Thai itself. You can read about our experiences in these two articles Underground Gambling, Beetle Fights, Heart and the Clinch of Muay Thai (2015) and ;more importantly Muay Thai Clinch is Not Boring – Gwang Chon – Battle Beetles of Thailand (2015). Some photographs from those articles are missing due to website problems, but the video below captures just what Beetle Fighting is. If you read the Geerz essay and watch the video just below, you'll immediately see themes and parallels. Beetle Fighting is called "Gwang Chon", which literally translates to something like "Beetle Clash". To "Chon" is to clash together, a collision, a crash. It's used in "car crash" for instance. You search for a beetle with heart, desire, a beetle that will compete. A female beetle is placed under the wrestling log for inspiration and passion. You want a beetle that will chon. This is a very important vector of Muay Thai judgement and celebration, what I'm calling animality. As someone said to us "Animals chon, men have muay". In the article linked above Sylvie touches on the very real ways the animality of chon directly is expressed in a fighter's "heart", one of the most prized aspects of a fighter. Legends of the sport like Samson Isaan, Namphon, Sangtiennoi, Samransak were fighters of tremendous heart. What is important here, for my perspective, is to understand that "heart" is expressed along a vector of animality. This is seen as an expression of a person's animality, something that presents them on a single chain of being which allows beetle fights, chicken fights, child fights, female fights, festival fights between beginners and National stadia fights all to be expressions of the same thing: a fundamental agonistic expression of heart, organized perhaps across animal kingdoms. This vector of animality creates the anchor of the fighting sports. It embodies the life force, the desire, the affective intensity of something fighting. It makes it "real". The further you go along this vector, the more real a fight is. But, importantly: animals chon, men have muay. There is another axis on which a human fighter is judged. The muay, its art. The fighter's technique. The tension between muay and chon is a really important one, and in the next short essay installment I'll take that up, but quickly enough, Muay Thai can be read across these two axes. The "x" axis though is that of animality, the things that bind us together in the great chain of Being. And it is that animality that helps us see how present day Muay Thai fights in Thailand (their rites, their subculture) traditionally can be closely connected to something as far off as Balinese cockfighting in the 1960s. It is the underpinnings of that striving, the chon between beings. It should be noted that even in the Beetle Fights we watched, the appreciation of their battles were not exclusively on the axis of animality. It was not pure chon. Beetles themselves are assessed, anatomically, by many physical factors including the length of their pinchers, which are related to their ability to do certain high scoring lifts. You can see this mentioned in this brief interview: This is only to say that even in the "lower" animal kingdoms, thinking about techniques and their relationship to anatomy (as one does with fighters) enters into the appraisal. Even beetle fights are operating on more than one axis. I'll take on that second axis next.

Short Essay 2 The entry point to this series of thoughts was this small paragraph in the introductory pages of Boxing A Cultural History (2012, Kasia Boddy): It's a very tantalizing if elliptic string of thought, broad-ranging in its possible application to combat sports. It opens up an ethical vista which could suggest that combat sports - and by extension most other sports, in a more diluted way - perform a rite, a ritual what works to cleanse or protect the social group, psychically. Sport is too varied to be reduced to this, but perhaps there is a very dark root to combat sports, and in particular much more traditional fighting sport/arts like Thailand's Muay Thai, which is imbued with magical observances and is tightly woven into community patterns and ritual which likely go back centuries, if not thousands of years. In any case, it was this small paragraph above, that put me to a deep dive, out of which this series of short essays has arisen. I wanted to give you the impetus of these thoughts so it would be easier to follow along what may feel like a circuitous argument and description. What I'm pointing to is the perhaps likely possibility that the purpose of fighting arts rites is the actual production of the loser as the (sacred) sacrificial victim. While attention is inordinately paid to the winners, and the point of fighting sports feels as if it is to produce winners, the true, deeper aim is the production of losers...and we lose sight of this because of the very Nature of what the loser takes on, the shamefulness that brings them out of sight, and causes them to be forgotten. With that put to the side, in this short essay I'd like to take up the second vector of Thailand's Muay Thai, what I am calling "divinity". The first short essay outlined "animality" as a force and a value judgement, but animality only gains it's full relevance in tension with the second vector: the "y axis" of divinity. There is a certain sense in which it is very easy to see how this dichotomy fits perfectly within Thai Buddhism. In this polarity that force of the fight, the dramatic import is ideally that of the hero (victor) playing the role of Vishnu, and overcoming the demonic, which in larger extrapolation would be the desires and weaknesses that Buddhism itself seeks to overcome. This explains all the parallels that are drawn between the endeavors of the Nak Muay and that of monks (written about some here), all the ways in the fighter seeks equinimity of mind, and even more importantly, the techniques and intelligence that one is trained in to overcome mere animalistic "chon". Animals have "chon", men have "art". The "femeu" fighter is the artistic one, the one who controls the animalistic within, overcoming himself/herself, and the animalistic without...the opponent, through art. Hence, this is a vertical vector. The artful fighter rises above the chon of the fight. There is a great deal that has been layered into this dichotomy, which places one fighter on the side of the animal, and one on the side of the human/divine. We have the prototypical Matador vs the Bull (a historical dramatic performance very likely derived from animal sacrifice, reaching back to Mesopotamia), wherein human art triumphs symbolically over the animal. And in Thailand's Muay Thai one can see the heritage of "Muay Femeu" (evasive, artful, tactical fighters) vs "Muay Khao" (forward advancing, relentless, exhaustable knee fighters). The Muay Femeu vs Muay Khao tension is also played out in Thailand along sociological lines, wherein the femeu ideotype is anchored in the ideology of Bangkok, and Royal patronage, and the Muay Khao ideotype is seen as that of the agrarian provincial (less educated) "worker". The divinity/animality, art vs chon tension maps well onto this sociological divide. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. I bring up these larger sociological pictures - which are the lens through which so much of Thailand's Muay Thai is thought about and enjoyed - so we can look back into the original sources of this dichotomy, likely rooted in provincial, ritualistic, festival fighting stretching back perhaps centuries. From the beginning the values of animality (its energies, force and weaknesses) have been likely tempered by the values of divinity, in the ring, in every fight, reaching back into the origins of sacrifice itself, wherein sacrifice becomes sport. If femeu fighting is the human (as it relates to, and even embodies the divine) enacts Buddhism's project of overcoming the passions of what is animal in all of us, this is done through specific arts and training. Techniques. Just as there are meditative (and magical) techniques, there are fighting techniques. Glorified fighters like Samart - who may rest at the acme of the femeu ideotype - at times feel like they are not even fighting. It is as if they float above the conflict, are never drawn in, but, they express their superiority over animality through the theatrics of techniques. At the time of conflict the technique (the blow, the slip, the physical freedom in a specific execution) stands out. It shines. While the criticism of Muay Khao fighters almost invariabily falls to the idea "no IQ" (and this is said of very great fighters, as well as by great Muay Khao fighters leveling critique on other great Muay Khao fighters), "just a bull" (an iconic animal of agrarian provincial culture), femeu fighters are celebrated for their "eyes" and for the way in which technique is able to just stand out. You can see the art suddenly there, in moments of great drama, just as you can see the matador's sword go in, or the executioner's weapon fall. This is important. It points to the highly ritualistic dimension of the roots of Thailand's Muay Thai. That Ladder of Being is scaled by human art and technique. The passions are overcome, no less than how a monk in meditation in a cave, through techniques of breathing and mind, overcomes the passions within himself. But, what is different is that supremacy of technique, the moment of the sword, is dramatically displayed and re-enacted, again and again and again, in this particular version (interpretation) of events. Leaving aside the difficult ideological dimensions of this (the urban vs the village, the royal vs the worker, it feels as if if we travel back to the rites themselves we will come upon a profound truth as to what fighting is, and what it does. What it enacts. If we can particularize the Ur-act of dramatic fighting around the mechanism of sacrifice, we can then untangle, productively, much of what has been built up upon that originary core, a core which likely operates, psychically, today.

Hi guys! Ammy fighter here. I am currently 3-1. I have been actively fighting for 2 years however I find myself becoming frustrated with my lack of fighting consistency. I have had opportunities come my way that would allow me to fight on a regular basis however my coach has disagreed with some of the match ups I have been offered. In one instance he said she was more active than I was, in another he claimed my opponent was tall (she is 6ft, I'm 5'5'') so he wasn't so sure. As an amature I want to get as much experience as possible. I know coaches are their to protect their athletes but in some cases I feel as if I am being held back. I grew up being an athlete so I am use to having a regular season and competing multiple times within a few months. I'm not sure if I am being short sighted in wanting to fight more or not. My last fight was March 20th and I am hoping to fight again by June. I want to get in at least 4-6 fights this year if possible, but at this pace I don't see that happening. Any tips or suggestions on how to not be discouraged when I am constantly training but not allowed to take fight opportunities? Or any advice on how to bring this up to my coach without sounding disrespectful?

An overprotective coach is a much lesser problem compared with a coach whom doesnt care, whom isnt YOUR ally.... I believe Sylvie has written about this aspect too. So while you should abandon and flee such an non caring coach and gym, I do hope its "just" to talk it through honestly and openly with this overprotective coach... Hopefully you will get a new balance. If not, you may think on changing gym - hopefully with this coach blessings and advice whom to choose instead. This problem reminds me about another but similiar problem. Its usually guys telling about sparring with females they dont know well. Ie, they often do avoid to sparr women, or take it supereasy on them. They dont wish to hurt the girls, nor get negative reactions from the girls nor their pals. There are several different aspects to see this. Some are entirely legitimate! As I see it, its because, in the clubs in west, its common many of the women training in Muay clubs, arent wanna be fighters, many are really into fitness. (Or beginners) So they fitness fighters are often technically decently knowleable, and thus able to do some good sparring, but only as long as its friendly and easy on them... But they dont wish to risk pains nor hurts... So a female Muay, whom IS a wanna be fighter, and thus, doesnt mind some rough sparr - yes even WISHES hard tough sparring - must tell about this. Or even herself challenge these guys or the more advanced female fighters present... To be honest, its not only a guy - female thing, this being overprotective, even if its the frequently described. I have seen female fighters, whom by the same reasons avoid to sparr against other women: the ouches and scared crys begins immediately the beating begins... I think the long term solution is to have some system of labels; essentially: Im a wanna be fighter; Im OK with serious sparring, even if it hurts some. Or; Im a fitness fighter. Im able to do technically advanced sparring, but it must be on a light and friendly niveu. And perhaps equvalents for beginners. The short term solution is, exactly as above, to try and talk with each other. Talk by mouth, body language, behavior in the gym... Good luck!

Sorry, these articles were not directed toward your comment, but were more toward the general subject matter of the thread. Just reference points.

Some articles that might help on this topic, especially this one. Many people can't even tell how hard they are going: Brain Science: Why Sparring Gets Out of Control – Neurology and Muay Thai https://8limbsus.com/blog/brain-science-sparring-gets-control-neurology-muay-thai Also this: The Challenge of Non-Ideal Sparring Partners and Avoiding Bad Habits https://8limbsus.com/muay-thai-thailand/challenge-non-ideal-sparring-partners-bad-habits and this: Fear of Escalation in Sparring and Training Aggression as a Skill https://8limbsus.com/muay-thai-thailand/fear-escalation-sparring-training-aggression-skill

Didn't want to say it before...but, basically yeah - there you go. Not something that can be said out loud, so glad someone else did. Am nowhere near super heavyweight, but in most European countries if you're 80kg or above you're basically considered a giant monster, and 2/3 of the room simply don't want to partner up with you. So you get friendly with that final 1/3. When the others do spar with you it's because the trainer tells them to, and then they have this energy of annoyance and bitchy suppressed anger - you can feel it, just seeping out of their pores. And yes, most of them do exactly what you just described, start unloading on you at 100%. As if they just watched you run over their dog in your driveway. The reason? Again, one of those things that you're simply not allowed to talk about, but some people really really believe this. That they're allowed to hit someone harder than they're being hit. Genuinely. This guy's got 5 more fights than me? I'm allowed to hit harder. He's an inch taller? I'm allowed to hit harder. He's heavier? I'm allowed to hit harder. He had 3 karate lessons when he was 12 years old? I'm allowed to hit harder. They don't accept that productive sparring has an unspoken, unconscious equilibrium, where you both intuit your power & speed levels, in yourselves and each other, and then you sync up. Then, the clock beeps, the round is over and you can't believe it went that fast, and you and the other guy have smiles on your faces and you don't know why. Regardless of the weight difference between you two, regardless of what power level you decided to spar at. Could have been hard or light, doesn't matter, because you both went at the same rate. My 2 favourite partners when first starting out? A HW buddy 25kg heavier than me, and an 18 year old kid 15kg lighter than me. The difference was never an issue. Now some people simply don't believe in that and never will, ever. And they get extremely upset when it's ever brought up to them. So best not to. Just stick with the minority of guys who actually do want to work with you.

It's difficult because your coach, it appears, is the gatekeeper on whether or not you get to fight the fight that's offered. Having an honest conversation with him about your motives and goals, that you're willing to take losses and disadvantages in order to have the long-term benefits of experience is a good place to stand. From his perspective, he's trying to protect you, not put you in unfair situations, and also surely protect his own reputation. It's all in how you sell it, honestly. I lost a good amount when I first came to Thailand and was fighting far more experienced opponents with weight advantages, but I was known as the little farang who would fight everyone and fight often. That glow isn't universal, the praise isn't unanimous, and the better I got and the more my name became recognizable, the more complicated the "face" of my gym and those who were supposed to be "in charge of me" became. So, it's complicated. But if you feel like you can talk to your coach, there's nothing lost by an honest conversation about wanting to fight a lot at this point in your development.

This was a huge problem for Sylvie. She's a 100 lb fighter and years ago as an amateur there were maybe 5 people in the whole country she could even fight around her weight, even giving up weight some. Also, a big problem, is that coaches like to manage their fighters, a lot of it coming from the example of boxing (which often has a much larger, more organized fighting pool). Coaches definitely try to massage the matchups to help you improve. They want you to win, or at least have a really good chance of winning, to improve your confidence which is important. They also, for commercial and brand reasons want to have winning fighters. Winning fighters bring more clients. For us it was a big no-go. Every time a coach would try to slow Sylvie down, or manage her, we'd distance ourselves. There was no path to become the fighter she wanted to be following any of those "managed" routes. And it has led to a spectacular career of over 260 fights, the most in history. But...it has lead to enormous social costs, a constant shifting, and facing a lot of opponents with huge advantages on her, which also has lead to big breaks of confidence at times. This is all to say that you are describing a huge thing, especially in female Muay Thai, and that we took a very radical path in response to it, paid big consequences, and even to this day we are fighting this battle of control over opponents. Ten years in it still happens. For us, fighting is precious. Even bad matchups. There is a cost, but it is worth it. There is nothing that can teach you more than a fight, and fighting a lot gives you perspective. But...the social web of support is super important to a fighter, and coaches can be very sensitive to this stuff. In this case all you can do is give a double message. "Coach, I really want to fight, I'll take a mismatch" AND "Coach I respect your opinion" and see how it shakes out.