A Fish Out of Water

Rasmussen & Kruth

Carl Fisher trains Thai in Stockholm, 26 June 2003

Thai Boxing — the flip side of the MMA coin

Stockholm boasts many academies dedicated to the pursuit of grappling excellence, but what about the flip side of the MMA coin, the B-side of the record? If the grappling arts are the yin, what is the Yang? The answer to this question came in the guise of Jorgen Kruth, recent K-1 Holland champion and one of my BJJ training partners at Richard Bohlenius’s academy, in Sundbyberg; Jorgen is busy preparing himself for his next K-1 clash and I found myself invited to the Thai gym, to train along side him. As ever, in at the deep end - not for me the beginner’s class or something nice and easy; oh no, I had to join in with K-1 class fighters and the like - well in for a penny in for a kroner, as they say.

Jorgen trains at the Kampsportskolan in downtown Stockholm under the watchful eye of Thomas Rasmussen; the club is situated in a basement and is every inch a fighter’s gym; a large ring dominates the main training room, with plenty of space for shadow boxing and skipping around the perimeter. My timing was once again impeccable, attending on a week that found the majority of the guys preparing for an upcoming Thai competition only four days away, which could only mean one thing — a hard session loomed ahead.

The class was filled with dangerous looking guys, walking about like coiled springs in full Thai regalia, with that hungry look in their eyes; and there I stood, amongst all these lean mean fighting machines, every inch the gladiator, resplendent in baggy shorts and raggedy t shirt…oh dear. With the competition a few days away, conditioning was the name of the game and boy do these guys love conditioning; the warm up consisted of skipping. And skipping. And more skipping, fifteen minutes of skipping to be exact, one round only, using the heavy duty plastic ‘ropes’, the ones that make damn sure you get the technique right first time, or else you’re walking home minus your little toes. I haven’t skipped so long in years and I had visions of finishing the class before it had even begun, so I ‘pretended’ my skipping wasn’t up to scratch to steal a quick breather — after all I was a beginner in the midst of professionals. Skipping over and with my t shirt already stuck to my back, it was time to hit the pads; I hung around looking for someone who didn’t look like they could kick like Ramon Dekker when some kind soul took pity on me and the fun began. My partner started first and fired in a kick that doubled me up and before I got my wind back, a piledriver knee came flying in; I was up a certain creek without a certain paddle. Somehow I managed to survive and it was my turn and boy was the difference in skill level apparent; I fired in a reasonable front kick and then came in with a knee that wouldn’t have worried the skin of a rice pudding. Pathetic. I felt and looked like a complete amateur, a fact Thomas could hardly miss, and was duly corrected on my technique and I went at the pads again, this time eliciting a nod of recognition from my pad man. Trying to maintain an easy rhythm, I continued the drill, sweat running into my eyes and at this point I realised just how hard combat conditioning really is, a true test of both body and spirit. I looked about the gym and the other guys were walking around as though they’d just arrived and I’m summoning up every ounce of energy just to stop myself from collapsing.

If that wasn’t enough for my poor legs, knee strikes were next on the list; not the knees you used to do in karate, where you could stand around and take breathers, oh no, left and right knees on the hop and yes, again for ten minutes; that was probably one of the longest ten minutes I have ever encountered, as I was dragged around like a rag doll by my partner and this time I thought I would throw up on the mats, no hesitation. All I could think of at this time was do not drop the pad, do not drop the pad; it was hard enough with a pad there, God forbid if he was to miss the damn thing and connect with me proper. Time was called and it was my turn, but I had nothing to give by this time, some athlete I turned out to be; there’s one thing having mat fitness and rolling for hours on end, but Thai fitness is another world, another universe and I was at the very bottom rung of a long and tortuous ladder.

The class was now at an end and I had somehow managed to survive; it gave me an eye opener on just how hard these guys train, day in and day out mostly twice a day and I have the utmost respect for anyone who decides to travel down this gladiator’s path and compete at the highest level. After a quick shower and drink I managed to catch a glimpse of how the professionals train, watching Jorgen on the Thai pads with Thomas and all I can say is, I am glad I am not the opponent’s thighs…

For more info check out www.kampsportskolan.com or call + 46 (0) 8 651 2952

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