Photos by Lindsey Newhall

Too's opponent was tall for his age, fierce with forward-moving aggression. Too knew who who he was; he'd been seeing him at fight promotions in his southern Thai province of Songkhla since he started fighting as a child. He'd even heard the tall boy was a distant cousin. Now Too was struggling to maintain the lead over him in the ring. The fight was being broadcast live on Channel 9. Everyone back home was watching.

The bell rang and the boy grabbed Too in a clinch, dug into his sides with incessant knees. Too had kept up with his opponent the first and second rounds, won the third, lost the fourth. The fight was even, his corner had said. It was down to the fifth round.

"Stay away!" Too's corner shouted, told him to back up, use his kicks, stay out of range of his opponent's high-scoring knees. Too kept his distance, scored kick after kick. But the other boy slipped in, grabbed Too in another clinch, fired expertly placed knees and threw him down flat on his back.

Too scrambled to get off the canvas and finish the match strong. For young boxers in Thailand, competing in Bangkok is considered vital to a successful career. If Too wanted to keep fighting in Bangkok, he knew he had to win this fight.

Originally, Too wasn't supposed to be the one stepping into the ring that night. Another fighter had been lined up, but pulled out due to injury just a few days before. Too immediately started worrying when his gym told him he'd be the replacement. The fight was in a few days, no time for extra preparation.

Too had seen what had happened to other fighters at his gym when they stopped winning in Bangkok. They were kept out of the capital for months at time, made to fight in small local stadia until the managers and promoters felt confident enough to send them back to Bangkok again.

Bringing a fighter to Bangkok is an investment and a risk. Transportation, food, and hotel rentals add up. The gym's reputation is on the line as well. "No one told me I had to win this fight, but I had a feeling they wouldn't send me to Bangkok any time soon unless I won," Too said. It had happened to him before. The gym relegated him to fighting in the southern provinces for months after a short losing streak in Bangkok the year before.

Fighting in Bangkok was nothing like what Too had experienced as a child in Songkhla Province, or even his early teenage years in Phuket. His Bangkok fights were televised—he knew other promoters, gym owners, gamblers, even his own family could be watching him win or lose. Too had also heard the rule that boxers must allow 21 days between fights in sanctioned Bangkok stadia. If he fought and lost, he'd have to wait weeks to fight again and redeem his name. He worried people would remember his defeats. It wasn't like the rest of the country, where the average fight carries less weight and a fighter can take another match just days or even hours after a loss.

Too first visited Singpatong Gym in Phuket three years ago at age 12. He'd already fought dozens of matches since starting at age eight, and the Singpatong trainers, adequately impressed with his technique and attitude, invited him to live at the gym. He asked his family if he could stay, told them he was having fun with the other boys at the camp. There was always someone his age to play with. His family agreed, knowing Too would be given a stable, productive life at the gym: school in the morning, Muay Thai in the evening.

The first few months at Singpatong were harder than Too had imagined. In training he did well, showed off his clean technique. But he was homesick, adjusting to the social order at camp. The smallest things would start him crying, like when the other boys made fun of him for his big ears. He was given a nickname, "The Newspaper," because he couldn't keep secrets about the other boys. The only secrets he kept were about himself—he stayed quiet about his family, didn't tell anyone his father had died until he'd been at Singpatong two years, and even then wouldn't give specifics about what had happened.

Two years after his arrival, when he turned 14, Singpatong management decided to test him in the capital. Too's first fight in Bangkok was televised, and he was nervous. His opponent was already an experienced Bangkok fighter. Not surprisingly, Too lost.

The trainers didn't criticize him much for his loss, said it was just his first fight in Bangkok. Too kept honing his skills in Phuket, eventually started winning matches in Bangkok. A few months later, he hit a rough patch, loss after loss. Like other young fighters, Too was raised on the notion that success in Muay Thai is found through fighting in the capital. "I can make a name for myself in Bangkok," he said. "People will know who I am."

It was late 2014 when Too nervously took the place of his injured teammate in Bangkok. His coach wrapped his hands, rubbed him down with oil, secured his gloves, and brought him out to the ring. He jumped in as they announced his fight name, Jongandam Tanaimichelle.

The points had been split until the last round, Too scoring with his kicks while his opponent used knees. After the final bell, the boys stopped fighting and approached the center of the ring. The referee grabbed the gloved hands of both boys. Too kept his head down, closed his eyes and hoped.

The ref raised Too's hand. He exhaled sharply, smiled back at the frantically happy faces of his teammates in the corner. He left the ring gracefully, trying not to show his overwhelming relief.

The other boy was quietly unwrapping his hands in a corner backstage. He had been losing fights in Bangkok recently as well. Winning this fight might have been just as important to him as it was to Too. But Too didn't give that much thought when opposite the boy in the ring. "I can't think about something like that during a fight," he said.

Too is aware of the gravity that losing repeatedly in Bangkok can have on his career path, but he remains optimistic. Young Thai fighters often rack up 50 or even 100 fights by the time they reach Too's age, learning how to handle the inevitable defeats along the way. Winning may push a fighter's career forward, but losing is a natural part of every young Thai fighter's life. Resilience is learned early.

As for the other boy, Too said he didn't think his opponent's loss would spell the end of his career. "He'll keep fighting," he said, "just like the rest of us."

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Voices of Muay Thai's Next Generation: Penneung Singpatong

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