Muang Thong Thani FC

Nonthaburi, Thailand

It's Sunday morning and my head is pounding. Or, is that someone knocking on the door? Actually, it's both. "Klis, Klis, we go, we go!!!", shouts a shrill voice from outside my apartment. Groan. Funny how the Thais like to repeat everything twice, though. I manage a vaguely audible "Ok, ok, 5 minutes, 5 minutes" before struggling up to a sitting position in my bed, drenched in sweat, holding my throbbing head in my hands.

I can only blame myself for my predicament as my headache is a direct result of last night's adventure in Bangkok. I don't fool myself into claiming that I will never drink again (yet), but I do question whether or not it was worth it - as I do every weekend. Eyes half open, I shuffle to the fridge like a zombie, grab the large bottle of water (as if there were anything else to grab) and guzzle its contents without pause. Glug, glug, glug, glug, ahhhhh. Next, I stuff a pile of soccer equipment into my bag, grimacing because I've forgotten to wash my uniform again. If I didn't want to throw up before...

I hop into the shower for a quick rinse off - likely the first of four for the day. The water is disappointingly tepid, not the cold blast I crave. I perform a token towel off, even though the only way to really dry off is to sit still in front of the fan on full blast for a minimum of five minutes. Already soaked as I ride the elevator down to the lobby, I wonder how I am going to survive an hour and half of running around an arid pitch in this heat, in this state.

Gae, my manager and friend, is beaming as usual as he waits for me in the lobby. His lanky frame sports the Muang Thong Thani FC jersey - whose MFC logo is the only noticeable differentiation from the Real Madrid uniforms. "You ready?", he asks enthusiastically. It takes all my energy to form a weak smile and respond with an unconvincing "Ready". As we step out of the building to meet the rest of the team, I make sure to stop at the stall selling fruit to purchase several 10 cent plastic bags filled with refreshing watermelon and juicy pineapple. I stab several pieces onto the toothpick and shove it all in my mouth. Ahhhh, that's better.

When we arrive at the meeting spot, I feel bad because the entire team is waiting on me. But like the good-natured lads they are, not one of them shoots off any bad vibes. We all pile into several minivans and head to another district of Bangkok.

Our driver, who I suspect has been paid off by the other team, is apparently not overly concerned that we make it to the pitch alive. He zig zags and weaves in and out of traffic - even purposely driving on the wrong side of the road at one point to gain no more than a few metres. Until this moment, I had never imagined that I would die in a car accident in the suburbs of Bangkok.

We arrive at the pitch with about ten minutes to spare before kick off. We barely have time to lace up our boots before the referee summons the captains to the circle for the customary rock, paper, scissors (I'm not making this up either). The sun is beating down so hard - at 9.52 am - that I can barely perform a perfunctory stretch of the calf. I'm so screwed. In a last minute effort to be game ready, I dump some ice cold water over my head and pray that I don't throw up.

I feel like I'm in a giant oven. Before coming here, it had never occurred to me that April would be a country's "hot season". I'm looking forward to winter. The sun glares down oppressingly as everything is ultra hazy; mixed with my hungover state, it's all very surreal in a nightmarish sort of way. A quick scan of the pitch reveals an unhealthy, brown surface largely deprived of hydration. A pat of the ground with my foot offers no yield and I begin to dream of the lush and empty grass fields back home in Canada. A referee's whistle snaps me out of reverie and suddenly the ball is at my feet and my reflexes take over.



The halftime whistle's tweet ne'er did sound so sweet. Spotting a cooler filled with ice water, I decide to submerge my entire head, resulting in a shock throughout my system. It helps, but I'm still within a sliver of throwing up.

The heat only intensifies during the second half. It's beyond any degree of hot that I've ever experienced. At this point, I'm not so much playing to win as trying to survive out there on the pitch. Like an old car I am overheated, and I start to feel woozy, with visions of my body giving way and me just passing out. At last, the final whistle blows. We exchange handshakes with the other team and quickly head for the shade.

As with all recreational footy team around the globe, the best part of the game is post=game. During my stint with MTT FC, it meant going back to a little restaurant owned by Gae's friend in Muang Thong for our post-game feast. The restaurant consists of some fold-out tables and plastic stools on the sidewalk, a few plants and some multi-coloured lights (it's Christmas all year-round I used to joke) for the night time crowd. But in Thailand, don't let the decor fool you. Delicious dish after delectable dish would be brought every once in a while. Food is shared by all. It's the art of pecking.

Gae and his wife Goi are the only English speakers among this group of twenty or more locals. They graciously act as translators for me, but there are times when they are busy talking to others. I am happy to just sit and watch these jovial people interact with one another. And even though they are unable to communicate with words, they make sure I know that I am appreciated with their genuine smiles and a friendly pat on the back.

Another way they expressed their friendship was with beer. In Thailand, you learn to drink beer out of a small dixie cup filled with ice cubes. It's a bit weird at first, but it's proof that you can really adapt to anything. Those guys, bless them, made sure that my glass was never less than half empty every Sunday. I mean, I'd turn around for a second, and when I'd pick up my glass again, I'd swear it was more empty. You know what they say, the best way to cure a hangover...

My experience as a member of MTT FC will long reign as one of my fondest memories. The level of football wasn't the highest, but the comraderie and the hospitality shown by my gracious teammates will remain close to my heart.