Four years ago, the stadium was empty.

Not metaphorically. Empty.

Muay Thai was in one of its darkest chapters in a hundred years. You could hear footsteps from the other side of the arena because there was no crowd to drown them out. No noise. No energy. Just silence.

Most people had already given up.

But a few didn’t.

A small group of OGs , fighters still holding onto the dream of a better life, staff members working quietly behind the scenes, believing better days would come even when there was no proof they would.

And there was me.

I had given my whole life to Muay Thai. I always said that if the sport ever needed me, I would be there. And somehow… this felt like that moment.

I gave everything I had. Sometimes too much.
Sometimes I was intense.
Sometimes probably annoying.

But it always came from love. From loyalty. From gratitude to the sport that built me.

Fast forward to today that same place is one of the most iconic destinations in Bangkok. Full crowds. Big shows. Young athletes getting opportunities we once prayed for. Dreams being built again.

And I’m proud. Truly.

But every time I look back into that stadium… there’s a quiet sadness in my chest.

Not regret.
Not jealousy.
Just unfinished business.

A feeling that I still have more to give.
More to build.
More to protect.

Now the microphone in my hand serves a different purpose. I’m no longer fighting in and for the ring, I’m fighting in a different way.

Maybe I’m just a somehow forced retired soldier standing on the sidelines.

But Muay Thai will always be in my heart.
And maybe… one day…
I’ll bring something to life again.