There was a time when Muangthong United felt untouchable. In the early 2010s, the Twin Kirins rewired Thai football with their ambitious ownership, a polished brand, and a conveyor belt of national-team talent that set the tone for the modern Thai League era. They were the club others tried to emulate—financially bold, structurally progressive, and consistently in the title picture.
Today, that aura has faded. Muangthong are still a respected name, still capable of brilliant football in stretches, but the power they once wielded has been steadily chipped away. Their recent struggles are not the product of a single failing, but the slow erosion of competitive advantages they once enjoyed—and the widening gap between them and clubs that have outspent, out-organized, or simply outgrown them.
The latest reminder came on November 23, when Buriram United dismantled Muangthong in the newest chapter of their long-running rivalry. This wasn’t the sort of spirited contest where Muangthong went toe-to-toe with their old foes. Instead, the Thunder Castles unleashed a brutal 5-0 rout—the largest margin ever recorded between the two sides. It was a result that laid bare the widening divide: Buriram’s wealth, recruitment strategy, and organizational stability now stand in stark contrast to Muangthong’s uneven form and ongoing financial recalibration. What was once a clash of equals has evolved into a structural gulf.
Few moments symbolize Muangthong’s decline more sharply than their high-profile player exodus several seasons ago. The departures of Teerasil Dangda, Chanathip Songkrasin, and later Theerathon Bunmathan removed not just individual brilliance, but the very core of their identity. These were icons around whom championships were built—players who embodied the swagger of Muangthong’s golden era.
At the time, the reasoning was clear: financial sustainability and evolving ambitions for the players themselves. But the vacuum left behind proved deeper than expected. Replacements were talented, but rarely transformative. Meanwhile, rivals aggressively queued up marquee signings, often from the same pool of national-team stars Muangthong once attracted with ease.
Buriram, in particular, shifted into a higher gear during this period—modernizing their academy, expanding their transfer strategy, and strengthening the club’s structural depth. What had once been a rivalry of equals slowly turned into a mismatch in resources and long-term vision. And it wasn’t just Buriram pulling away. BG Pathum United, Port FC, True Bangkok United, Singha Chiangrai United, and even Ratchaburi FC have all caught up to—if not surpassed—Muangthong in key areas over the same stretch of time.
Muangthong’s reduced spending in recent years has never been a secret. The club’s ownership openly shifted toward a more measured financial philosophy, prioritizing long-term stability over the big-money arms race they once helped define. Rather than chasing marquee signings, the Twin Kirins turned inward—banking on youth development, internal grooming, and quieter but smarter acquisitions.
This period of austerity saw academy products such as Picha Autra, Poramet Arjvirai, Korawich Tasa, and Suporn Peenagatapho take on prominent roles, becoming the new faces of the club’s homegrown identity. At the same time, players like Somporn Yos, Ekanit Panya, Weerathep Pomphan, and Jaroensak Wonggorn delivered strong performances, further proving that Muangthong could still cultivate and attract capable talent even without the financial muscle of old.
But restraint comes with a competitive cost.
At the same time, the club began exploring unconventional revenue streams. Thunderdome Stadium—once an intimidating fortress during their title-winning years—gradually evolved into a multipurpose venue. Concerts, festivals, and large-scale entertainment events became fixture dates on the calendar. The rental income offered a much-needed financial boost, but it also spoke to a broader shift: Muangthong were no longer a club built exclusively around football, but one diversifying out of necessity.
The scheduling clash on November 23 illustrated this new reality. Muangthong’s high-profile league match against Buriram wasn’t played at the Thunderdome at all, but at Thammasat Stadium—formerly home to Bangkok United—because the venue was booked for T-pop group PERSE’s “Into the Alterland” concert. On a day that should have centered around a marquee fixture, Muangthong quite literally had to make way.
Supporters understand the practicality, but the move reflects an unusual reality for what was once Thailand’s most financially intimidating club.
On the pitch, Muangthong’s football has often been spirited, even bold. Their young squads in recent seasons have played with a kind of fearless urgency—pressing high, attacking quickly, showing flashes of the old Twin Kirin edge. But youth also means inconsistency, and without the star-driven backbone of the past, the team has struggled to string together performances that once came naturally.
Coaching changes and tactical reshuffles have added another layer of instability. The club is not in crisis—far from it—but it is in a prolonged state of transition, one where the peaks are lower and the troughs more punishing.
The Thai League landscape has shifted dramatically. Clubs like Buriram United, BG Pathum United, Bangkok United, Port FC, and Ratchaburi now operate with budgets and infrastructures that Muangthong no longer attempt to match. Instead, the Twin Kirins have embraced a new identity—leaner, youth-driven, and pragmatic in their ambitions.
Whether that approach can eventually lift them back into true contention remains uncertain. It’s equally possible that Muangthong’s golden era belongs to a very different chapter of Thai football history. Yet rebuilding is far from impossible. The club still commands a strong brand, runs an academy with genuine potential, and retains a fanbase that remembers what a champion looks like. What Muangthong lack now is a clear competitive blueprint—and the financial power they once wielded. The road back to the top will require patience, precision, and a recalibration of expectations.
The challenge is compounded by the departure of many standouts from their austerity era. Picha, Suporn, Ekanit, Somporn, Weerathep, and Jaroensak have all moved on. Poramet, arguably the club’s brightest recent talent, is now trying to make his mark in Japan’s J2 League with Júbilo Iwata. That leaves Korawich as the lone prominent academy graduate from that period still wearing Muangthong colors, though he can lean on experienced figures like Tristan Do, Kasidech Wettayawong, and Sorawit Panthong for guidance.
There is still quality in the squad. Melvyn Lorenzen and Willian Popp have been reliable performers in recent seasons, while the presence of Emil Roback—once part of AC Milan’s academy—offers a glimpse of renewed ambition.
But for now, the Twin Kirins remain a club searching for their place in a league that has evolved around them. Once the team that propelled Thai football forward, Muangthong United now find themselves at a crossroads, fighting to rediscover the momentum that once made them champions—and to ensure they are not left behind.