Muay Thai is featured every Sunday on Thai TV.

As a young boy my son Fenway and his Uncle Nai watched the telecasts from Lumpini Stadium and other boxing venues in a mesmerized state. After the victors and losers were declared for the day, Fenway is encouraged to show what he has learned from the fighters.

Elbow blows, high kicks, and a leap into the air onto his opponent’s stomach, usually his prone father or uncle.

Every attack was matched by a smile, which was very endearing on a 2 year-old boy.

I called Fenway “Superstar’.

Uncle Nai named him ‘Tia’ or Shorty.

I told Nai that he couldn’t call my son that word.

Not in front of me.

I didn’t want ‘Superstar Fenway’ to acquire a complex, especially since his height is normal for his age.

Still I was a fighter during my life and I wasn’t not going to stop Fenway from learning the Sweet Science. It can only do him good in the end, especially as he gets older and boys play rougher. Fenway has a good heart, but no one was born to take a beating.

In a week I will be with him again.

His uncle is serving time for selling ja-bah.

I shall have to teach him how to protect himself.

I’m sure he’ll be ready for his training, for a boy doesn’t get to be a ‘Superstar’ in the “Art of Eight Limbs” without some practice on his old man.

I can take a beating from a six year-old.

A ten year-old will be tougher and at age twelve I might have to retire from being his punching bag.

At one time his ti-sok or elbow blow will really hurt and I want to be prepared to surrender after that hit.

At my age losing becomes a grace matched only by knowing when not to fight.