AFTER a long journey back, the team and I are finally home in Thailand. It’s a quiet Saturday morning. Coffee in hand, I can still see Caracas in my mind, a week that felt bigger than boxing.
Venezuela has a proud boxing heritage. Graham Houston wrote a great piece on it, but the last world title fight held in the country was a decade ago. Since then, political and economic turmoil has made the thought of staging another feel far away. That changed last week, when Carlos Cañizales brought the big stage back to Caracas and gave the fans a night they’ll never forget.
You could feel that history in the air on fight night at the Poliedro de Caracas. Fight day felt deceptively calm. We met for breakfast, went over the plan, then rested. Panya looked rehydrated, strong, and ready. Maybe it was just me, but the hours moved faster than usual. By 19:00, the call came. We drove through the Friday night streets toward the arena.
Outside, a sea of fans swarmed the entrance. “Wow, there’s a lot of people,” Chatchai said. Inside, the Poliedro was already buzzing. The undercard was in full swing. We had a private changing room and hours to wait. I tried to walk the venue, but tight security kept me close.
At 21:30, I was told to supervise Cañizales’ hand-wrapping. His team welcomed me, respectful but ready. The next time we saw each other would be in the ring.
Near midnight, production came into our room. A language barrier had us confused, gloves still off, yet it was time to walk. We rushed to strap them on. Panya made her way to the ring to the sound of Thai band Bodyslam.
The national anthem was played. Ring announcer Pablo Flores introduced Cañizales, and the stadium erupted. Panya’s name drew a wall of boos.
The bell rang for round one. Cañizales pressed forward, unwilling to leave it to the judges. Every time his punches landed clean, the Poliedro roared like a thunderclap, the sound rolling through the building until it felt like the whole place was shaking.
Panya worked to find his rhythm, and by the middle rounds he was having success on the inside, digging into the body. The plan was to slow Cañizales down with those shots, keep him close, and make him work.
Our best moment came in round four, when a straight right sent Cañizales to the canvas, the ropes holding him up for the count. As he recovered quickly, we told Petchmanee not to empty his tank, there were still a lot of rounds to fight.
The fifth round brought bad news, the scorecards had us down. I urged Chatchai to keep Panya on the inside where he’d been most effective, but it was too late. A body shot folded him, and he couldn’t beat the count. Referee Abdiel Barragan waved it off as the arena erupted again. Even in our own corner, we couldn’t hear each other over the roar.
The fight was over, but the night belonged to Venezuela. The celebrations in the arena felt bigger than the result, they felt like the release of ten years of waiting. Team Cañizales was all class, and the fighters embraced in the dressing room.
The next morning, we flew back to Thailand. At 34, with 47 bouts and two world titles in two divisions, Petchmanee will take his time to decide what’s next. Cañizales holds the cards now, with big fights at 108 lbs on the horizon.
Boxing in Venezuela feels alive again. Albert Ramirez’s win over Jerome Pampellone in a WBA light-heavyweight eliminator could mean two Venezuelan world champions soon. Thailand has seen highs and lows, with its lone champion Thanongsak Simsri holding the IBF 108 lb belt. A unification with Cañizales would be one to watch. Two countries with parallel boxing histories.
The fight was another example of how quickly fortunes can change in boxing. The quiet, tense hours before the opening bell can explode into chaos in a matter of moments. Venues like the Poliedro hold more than just matches; they hold the emotions, the history, and the hopes of everyone inside.
Caracas was no different. The noise still echoes in the mind, the image of thousands in full voice, unified by one night, impossible to forget. The Poliedro didn’t just host a fight; it hosted a moment in history.
Boxing can be cruel, it can be beautiful, and sometimes, like last week, it can be both at once.
