The phone call came late, a familiar voice on the other end, Mr. Piyarat Vachirarattanawong, the astute manager of Panya Pradabsri. Panya, known more widely in the boxing world as Petchmanee CPF, was headed to Caracas, Venezuela, for a fight, and the request was simple yet profound: “Will you come?” For those who have shared sweat and strategy in the unforgiving crucible of a boxing gym, such an invitation is less a question and more an affirmation of shared history. When a former sparring partner and mentee calls upon you for one of the most critical fights of his career, the answer is, quite naturally, an unequivocal “yes.”
This particular journey was steeped in more than just the usual anticipation of a championship bout. Panya, a former long-reigning WBC world champion at 105 lbs, currently held the WBC light-flyweight title at 108 lbs. However, this reign carried an undeniable asterisk. His previous encounter with Venezuelan challenger Carlos Cañizales had concluded with a majority decision that left many, both in Thailand and internationally, convinced Cañizales had deserved the nod. This rematch was not merely a title defense; it was Panya’s personal quest for redemption, a chance to silence the whispers of doubt and definitively prove his dominion in the 108-pound division. Alongside his seasoned head trainer, Chatchai Sasakul – a man whose own fighting legacy includes a world title and a memorable encounter with Manny Pacquiao – and assistant trainer Junkot Chinnakrit, Panya had made the necessary adjustments. Now, it was time to put them to the ultimate test.
The Odyssey to Caracas
The journey itself was a testament to the dedication demanded by elite boxing. A gruelling 40-hour odyssey from Bangkok to Caracas, including a 13-hour layover in Istanbul, served as a stark prelude to the challenges ahead. Despite the punishing travel, spirits remained surprisingly high. Panya’s weight management, a critical component of any fighter’s regimen, was impeccable. Nine days out from the weigh-in, he was precisely where he needed to be, a testament to the meticulous planning that often goes unseen by the public. The lengthy flight segments offered a unique opportunity for the team to dissect strategy, fine-tune the game plan, and – inevitably – contemplate the destination. Venezuela, a nation with a deep and passionate boxing heritage, also carried a reputation for political complexities and social unrest. To suggest a mere “sense of uncertainty” hung in the air would be an exercise in polite understatement.
Upon arrival at Simón Bolívar International Airport, the team was met by the familiar buzz of media, a sign that the stakes were indeed high. ESPN broadcasters Renato and Andres Bermudez posed the standard questions: “How was camp?” “How do you feel about fighting in Venezuela?” And, of course, the unavoidable inquiry regarding the controversial first fight with Cañizales and the adjustments made. Panya, in typical Thai fighter fashion, offered concise, resolute answers: “I prepared well. We are ready.” Chatchai, ever the media-savvy veteran, added a touch of enigmatic wisdom: “We’ll have to see what happens in the ring.” With those measured words, the mission in Caracas officially commenced.
First Footing in a Foreign Ring
Jet lag is an unwelcome companion on any international trip, especially for an athlete preparing for peak performance. Yet, the routine remained sacrosanct. A 7 a.m. wake-up call for Panya’s daily run – a light, 30-minute session designed to maintain weight and blood flow, not exhaust. The simplicity of routine in a foreign land often provides a comforting anchor. Later, a walk to a local fruit store revealed the inherent warmth of the Venezuelan people. Despite the language barrier, the discovery that Panya was a world champion instantly dissolved any initial reserve, fostering connections through shared enthusiasm. Boxing, it seems, is indeed a universal dialect, far more eloquent than any spoken tongue.
The day’s training took place at the Classic Boxing Gym in downtown Caracas. The calm, almost hushed atmosphere was a welcome change from the typical clamor of a fight camp. It wasn`t a sprawling, noisy arena, which perfectly suited a light session focused on precision rather than power. Alongside a promising 19-year-old Venezuelan prospect, Brandon Garcia, Panya worked the heavy bag with a quiet intensity. The gym`s patrons, however, often gravitated towards Chatchai Sasakul, a living legend whose name resonates deeply within boxing circles, particularly for his historic encounter with a young Manny Pacquiao. At 33, Panya carried himself with a composure born of countless such situations. As Chatchai wisely observed, “Sometimes he’s so relaxed that he looks flimsy, but in the ring, when it’s time to fight, his nature is different.” This understated confidence, a quiet storm brewing beneath a serene surface, truly defines Petchmanee CPF.
Media obligations continued with Puro Boxeo, a Venezuelan outlet. The question of adjustments for the rematch resurfaced, a persistent reminder of the controversial past. While many observers, including the narrator, believed Cañizales had clearly won the first bout, the local media and fans maintained a respectful tone. Panya`s response remained consistent: “I have trained hard, and we adjusted according to Cañizales from the first fight.” A champion`s response, simple and direct, leaving the true answer for the ring.
A Local Legend`s Insight
One of the day’s most poignant moments arrived with the visit of David Grimán, a former world champion himself. Grimán’s own history was intertwined with Thai boxing, having traveled to Thailand twice to challenge legends like Khaosai Galaxy and Saen Sor Ploenchit for their world titles. A spark of recognition ignited between Grimán and Chatchai; though language divided them, mutual respect and shared experience bridged the gap. It was a powerful, unspoken affirmation of boxing`s unifying power, transcending borders and tongues.
Grimán offered a unique, nuanced perspective on the pressures of fighting at home. “Fighting at home is not easy,” he reflected. “People think it’s easier, but it’s more complicated. When you’re in front of your own people, the pressure is real.” For Carlos Cañizales, the immense blessing of being cheered by his compatriots would undoubtedly be accompanied by an equally immense burden of expectation. Grimán emphasized the broader significance of this fight for Venezuela: “Having another world title fight in Venezuela opens many doors and brings hope – hope that fights of this level will continue to be held in our country.” He acknowledged that while winning a title is difficult anywhere, the home crowd could provide that crucial “extra boost.”
When pressed on the rematch’s importance, Grimán articulated the raw sentiment in Venezuela. “Cañizales has the opportunity to avenge that loss, which, for us Venezuelans, was bittersweet because we believed Carlitos deserved the victory. Now Venezuela, which hasn’t had a world champion since Roger Gutiérrez in 2022, has the chance to break that streak.” His reflections extended to his own career: “Honestly, those fights with Galaxy and Saen were wonderful experiences. They were defeats, but they helped me immensely – not just as a boxer but for life… I lost to two stars of Thai boxing, and the experience of being in such a wonderful country is something I will always carry in my heart.”
Grimán painted a candid picture of Venezuelan boxing’s trajectory since his era. “After my coronation as world champion, many great Venezuelan boxers emerged, such as Lorenzo Parra, ‘El Niño de Oro’ Linares, and Edwin Valero – just to name three.” However, he lamented a recent decline, attributing it to a lack of significant fight cards and international sparring opportunities. “As a consequence, boxing hasn’t developed as it should, and we now have few high-level boxers who have a real chance of becoming world champions.” This fight, then, was more than a rematch; it was a beacon for Venezuelan boxing, a chance to reignite a nation`s passion and hope.
The Final Checkpoints
The day concluded with the WBC 7-day weigh-in at the hotel, overseen by WBC representative Nicolas Hidalgo. Panya, maintaining his disciplined regimen, effortlessly passed the check, coming in at 51.4 kg – precisely on target. It had been a day of relentless activity: arduous travel, focused training, media engagements, and official checks. Yet, Panya remained remarkably placid, a picture of calm determination. Watching him, one understood why he had traversed this path countless times before. For now, the intricate dance of preparation was nearing its end, the focus shifting from meticulous planning to the imminent clash. The work was done. All that remained was the fight itself – and the definitive answers it promised to deliver.
