Chang Style Novice
08-10-2004, 04:43 PM
http://www.dailytexanonline.com/news/2004/08/10/WorldNation/Cambodian.Family.Struggles.To.Revive.Sport.Of.Kick boxing-701948.shtml
From the AP
BATTAMBANG, Cambodia - In the yard of a Cambodian slum shanty are four pairs of boxing gloves and a punching bag leaking sawdust. They are Sao Thin's humble weapons in the struggle to resurrect kickboxing, a beloved sport that died in the killing fields of the Khmer Rouge.
"This is a Khmer kickboxing family - from father to son to grandchildren," says Sao Thin. "My heart is in love with this sport, and I'm afraid it will disappear when I die."
With his extended family of 14, living in a shack in Battambang, a town about 155 miles northwest of Phnom Penh, Sao Thin pursues his self-declared mission to restore kickboxing to its former glory. The family is poor, but the lessons are free.
Sao Thin could have been a contender. But he fought just nine matches - four wins, three losses and two draws - before the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975. The radical communist group stamped out the sport, along with virtually every other popular tradition, while slaughtering an estimated 1.7 million of their countrymen.
His son, Sao Bunthoeun, scored just one win and one loss before the four-year horror began.
In 1980, soon after the Khmer Rouge regime was toppled, they picked up where they left off. Together they have coached more than 100 students, including five of Sao Thin's grandchildren.
The father is 65 now, and the son, 46, barely eking out a living. Their 25 current students are from poor families, donating some of the money they earn in tournaments to help support the club. In the rainy season, the tiny training yard is flooded, and they have to move to higher ground.
Neighbors marvel at their perseverance.
"No matter what, they just keep struggling along with their students," said one neighbor, 54-year-old Eng Vary.
Battambang is the heartland of kickboxing, and many of Cambodia's most serious contenders hail from the province. But sports in Cambodia suffer from a lack of money and training facilities, and Cambodian teams usually get trounced in international competition.
till, kickboxing "in practical terms, is far ahead of other sports," said Oum Youran, president of CABA, the Cambodia Amateur Boxing Association. It is hugely popular with Cambodians, with fans turning out at arenas and tuning in on television, he said.
They take kickboxing very seriously - sometimes too seriously. One recent fight between a Cambodian and an Australian ended with both competitors fleeing the ring under a hail of plastic bottles.
About 1,200 kickboxers are training at 57 clubs across the country, Youran said. A national championship is held every year, the next slated for November. Non-championship tournaments take place in the capital every weekend.
Three Cambodian TV stations organize matches on their premises with commercial sponsorship.
Cambodian fighters have taken on foreign rivals, particularly from neighboring Thailand, where the sport is hugely popular, but their celebrity is generally limited to their own country,
Top-class winners can collect up to 400,000 riel ($100) and losers half that amount, although even the $30 purses in the lesser categories go a long way in a country whose per capita income is less than a dollar a day.
Thaing Sitharn, a 19-year-old student of Sao Thin's club, said he does odd jobs such as construction work when he's not in training or competing.
Sao Bunthoeun, the trainer, works as a porter at a nearby market. But today he is overseeing some profusely sweating students as they practice in swirling dust under a broiling afternoon sun.
"Knee! Direct punch! Knee! Direct punch!" he shouts.
One pair of boxing gloves has been used for so long that its top layer has peeled off.
Thoeun Chanry, Sao Bunthoeun's 16-year-old daughter, began training two years ago.
"Boys in the neighborhood used to say to me that as a girl, I shouldn't do this. But I told them why not, since I have arms and legs just like them," she said.
When not training, she baby-sits and cooks for younger kin. She said she wants to quit the ring in five years and become a trainer.
Her cousin, Pheap Sophea, has fought 51 bouts - including one across the border in Thailand - since he was seven.
"I love Khmer kickboxing, and I want to be famous," he said. And he's only 11.
From the AP
BATTAMBANG, Cambodia - In the yard of a Cambodian slum shanty are four pairs of boxing gloves and a punching bag leaking sawdust. They are Sao Thin's humble weapons in the struggle to resurrect kickboxing, a beloved sport that died in the killing fields of the Khmer Rouge.
"This is a Khmer kickboxing family - from father to son to grandchildren," says Sao Thin. "My heart is in love with this sport, and I'm afraid it will disappear when I die."
With his extended family of 14, living in a shack in Battambang, a town about 155 miles northwest of Phnom Penh, Sao Thin pursues his self-declared mission to restore kickboxing to its former glory. The family is poor, but the lessons are free.
Sao Thin could have been a contender. But he fought just nine matches - four wins, three losses and two draws - before the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975. The radical communist group stamped out the sport, along with virtually every other popular tradition, while slaughtering an estimated 1.7 million of their countrymen.
His son, Sao Bunthoeun, scored just one win and one loss before the four-year horror began.
In 1980, soon after the Khmer Rouge regime was toppled, they picked up where they left off. Together they have coached more than 100 students, including five of Sao Thin's grandchildren.
The father is 65 now, and the son, 46, barely eking out a living. Their 25 current students are from poor families, donating some of the money they earn in tournaments to help support the club. In the rainy season, the tiny training yard is flooded, and they have to move to higher ground.
Neighbors marvel at their perseverance.
"No matter what, they just keep struggling along with their students," said one neighbor, 54-year-old Eng Vary.
Battambang is the heartland of kickboxing, and many of Cambodia's most serious contenders hail from the province. But sports in Cambodia suffer from a lack of money and training facilities, and Cambodian teams usually get trounced in international competition.
till, kickboxing "in practical terms, is far ahead of other sports," said Oum Youran, president of CABA, the Cambodia Amateur Boxing Association. It is hugely popular with Cambodians, with fans turning out at arenas and tuning in on television, he said.
They take kickboxing very seriously - sometimes too seriously. One recent fight between a Cambodian and an Australian ended with both competitors fleeing the ring under a hail of plastic bottles.
About 1,200 kickboxers are training at 57 clubs across the country, Youran said. A national championship is held every year, the next slated for November. Non-championship tournaments take place in the capital every weekend.
Three Cambodian TV stations organize matches on their premises with commercial sponsorship.
Cambodian fighters have taken on foreign rivals, particularly from neighboring Thailand, where the sport is hugely popular, but their celebrity is generally limited to their own country,
Top-class winners can collect up to 400,000 riel ($100) and losers half that amount, although even the $30 purses in the lesser categories go a long way in a country whose per capita income is less than a dollar a day.
Thaing Sitharn, a 19-year-old student of Sao Thin's club, said he does odd jobs such as construction work when he's not in training or competing.
Sao Bunthoeun, the trainer, works as a porter at a nearby market. But today he is overseeing some profusely sweating students as they practice in swirling dust under a broiling afternoon sun.
"Knee! Direct punch! Knee! Direct punch!" he shouts.
One pair of boxing gloves has been used for so long that its top layer has peeled off.
Thoeun Chanry, Sao Bunthoeun's 16-year-old daughter, began training two years ago.
"Boys in the neighborhood used to say to me that as a girl, I shouldn't do this. But I told them why not, since I have arms and legs just like them," she said.
When not training, she baby-sits and cooks for younger kin. She said she wants to quit the ring in five years and become a trainer.
Her cousin, Pheap Sophea, has fought 51 bouts - including one across the border in Thailand - since he was seven.
"I love Khmer kickboxing, and I want to be famous," he said. And he's only 11.