Photos by Lindsey Newhall

[Over the last year, I have interviewed a number of young Thai fighters across the country. I ask them open-ended questions to get them talking. One such question I asked of Bao, a baby-faced 14-year-old fighter living at Singpatong-Stinumnoi Gym in Phuket, was, "What is one thing you will remember the rest of your life?" He was quiet for a moment, absorbed in his thoughts. Then he said, "The time I had to fight my friend."]

When Bao said goodbye to his friend and training partner Game, he had no idea that the next time he'd see Game would be from the opposite corner of a boxing ring.

Bao and Game had met in their home province of Phatthalung in southern Thailand. Game, a fighter for another local gym, had been sent to Bao's gym for cross-training and extra clinch practice. Every afternoon, the two boys would clinch and spar, then run off after training to play at each other's houses. It continued for a few months and by the time Game went back to his own gym, the boys had become good friends.

When Bao was 13, the owner of his gym told him he'd be leaving Phatthalung for Phuket. "There's a spot for you at Singpatong Gym," he told Bao. "Your parents already agreed to it. You'll be leaving in a few weeks."

Bao was excited. He'd done short training stints during school holidays at Singpatong a few times before, and was always envious of the boxers who got to live there full-time. All the boys looked like they were having fun, going to school, training Muay Thai, hanging out together at night and living in one big room at the gym. Singpatong management had had their eye on Bao for a while, and once he was old enough, they invited him to join their team.

The newly minted teenager settled into life at Singpatong easily. He liked school, loved training, and was quick to join the other boys on excursions around his new island home. His Muay Thai technique wasn't the best, but his heart made up for it. He was a bit of a brawler in the ring, despite his small size. The trainers and other boys all liked him. He did well in school, and was always enthusiastic when it came time for training each day.

Bao had been at Singpatong nearly a year when his coaches told him he'd soon be fighting someone from his home province of Phatthalung. Num, the owner of the gym, informed him it would be a kid about his age, someone named Game. Bao remembered Game right off, the kid he used to train with back home, the one who became his friend. When Num gave him the news, Bao listened without reply, kept it to himself that he didn't want to fight. Game was his friend; how he could possibly fight his friend?

Despite his reservations, Bao couldn't refuse the fight. "We're not supposed to talk back," he says. "When they tell us we're fighting, we have to do it. It doesn't matter who our opponent is."

A few weeks later, Game showed up to Singpatong. It had been a couple years since the friends had seen each other. A preliminary weigh-in had been scheduled to make sure the boys would be a good match. The trainers lined them up next to each other to compare their height and weight. The two old friends said a shy hello, careful not to talk too much lest they give the impression they wouldn't take the fight seriously. Only one trainer at Singpatong, Mad, knew about their friendship. The same trainer was in Bao's corner a few days later, telling him how to fight against his friend.

On the day of the fight, Bao caught sight of Game backstage. They kept their distance and busied themselves warming up. When they made eye contact before entering the ring, they smiled at each other.

Once the referee signaled the start of the fight, though, Bao didn't treat Game like a friend. The fight went all five rounds, and Bao didn't hold back. Game put up a strong fight as well, listening to his cornermen and picking apart Bao's unsteady technique. Bao responded with his classic forward-moving aggression, putting pressure on Game all the way up to the final bell. Ultimately, Bao won on points in a closely matched bout.

After the fight, the two boys unwrapped their hands and cooled off in their separate sections backstage. There were no hard feelings when Bao and Game ran into each other later that evening. The boys asked permission go buy snacks at the 7-11 outside the stadium together. Their coaches agreed and the two child fighters ran off together laughing.

When Bao told me the story a year later, he glossed over the fun times he and Game had had when they were training partners in Phatthalung and again after their fight in Phuket. Instead, his story focused on how he hadn't wanted to fight his friend. The fight itself had been psychologically difficult for him, though not in a way I expected. I asked him to explain his feelings on fighting a friend, thinking he'd talk about not wanting to hurt his friend out of sympathy. Rather, Bao listed other mental hurdles: "I feel too much pressure when I fight someone I know. I think too hard about how they'd fight. When you know a person as a friend, you don't know how to fight them."

Bao seemed more concerned with how to fight his friend Game, how to ensure a win, rather than how to refrain from hurting his friend. This focus sentiment should not be a surprise -- Muay Thai in Thailand is a lucrative business, not a hobby. All fighters, even children like Bao and Game, are expected to fight to win, every time.

Having to fight friends and acquaintances is relatively common in Thailand's Muay Thai culture. With thousands of boxers active in the fighting circuit, there are bound to be match-ups between friends. Some friendships are born simply through seeing the same faces at fight events, running into each other over and over in the community of Muay Thai. Many more close Muay Thai relationships, something akin to a brotherhood, develop between fighters training long-term at the same gym. So what happens if those same fighters are bought by other gyms and later matched up in future promotions?

Many fighters grow up fairly used to this phenomenon. Young boxers just starting out will often fight friends or people they otherwise know well, especially in places like Isaan and the rural south, where Muay Thai is a prevalent way of life for many Thais. Like Bao and Game, though, the boxers nearly always fight to win. In a place like Isaan, side bets (money the fighters' gyms themselves put down) are riding on nearly all fights, and the kids feel the pressure to perform, regardless of who their opponent is or how well they know him or her. Even the youngest fighters are expected to take the matches seriously. Muay Thai may be called a sport, but these matches aren't friendly neighborhood little league games where everyone goes home with a trophy just for participating. Muay Thai, in many ways, is more a job than what the idea of "sport" suggests to most Westerners. It's a way of life, a source of income for a boxer's family, and a potential long-term career if the boxer is good enough. Your coaches and gym owner are your bosses, and if your Muay Thai bosses tell you to fight your best friend from another gym, you fight your best friend. And you try to win.

I have, however, witnessed an exception to this focused dedication to winning even when fighting a friend. Most boxers in Thailand are looking to make money by rising up in the ranks, with the ultimate goal of winning title fights in Bangkok in mind. There are, however, certain populations of Thai fighters whose primary job is to fight for largely foreign audiences in more touristy areas of Thailand, such as the events I saw at the Jungle Experience on Koh Phangan the day before the Full Moon Party. On the surface, these look like real fights, and a few of them are -- I did witness a true K.O. (head kick) at the Jungle Experience -- but many if not most of these fights between two local Thai opponents are more like exhibitions, performances. The fighters use their years of experience to put on an entertaining show for the foreign audience, though often hold back, certainly moreso than if they were fighting for higher stakes in places like Lumpinee or Rajadamnern, where wins and losses matter. These performance-artist-type boxers often fight multiple times a weekend, and they can't afford to take time off for major injuries.

Still, most young, dedicated fighters have one main Muay Thai goal in mind: win fights, make money, and make even more money as a famous champion. He may be young, only 14, but Bao is on the path to high-level Bangkok stadium fighting, and he knows it. If he wants to reach his lofty Muay Thai goals, and even just retain his spot at an elite fighters' gym, he can't afford to go lightly in the ring, even when the opponent is his old friend.

Bao knows he may cross paths with Game again in the ring. He's not looking forward to it. "The feeling you get when you have to fight someone you know, someone you are friends with, that feeling is not normal for me," he says. "I don't like it."

The last time Bao saw Game was at their fight last year. Game is likely back in Phatthalung, training at his old gym. Or maybe he's moved on to another gym. Bao isn't sure. "We don't talk anymore. I never really see him anymore. But I still think he's my friend. If I need to fight Game or another friend again because they tell me I have to, then I will. I don't want to, but I will do what I need to do."

Language interpretation by Parichart Prim Padburee.

Check out these related stories:

Changing Seasons of Muay Thai: The Lives of Four Fighters One Year Later

Falling Through the Cracks: The Uncertain Life of a Young Muay Thai Champion

Making a Career out of Muay Thai