Unbelievable career of 300 fight Laight
Kristian Laight with trainer Paul Counihan and Ricky Hatton
ON July 28, 2018, the incredible Kristian Laight achieved a seemingly impossible milestone.
Laight, once undisputed king of the journeyman, fought for the 300th time as a professional.
Sadly – unlike Peter Buckley, British boxing’s other triple centenarian – Laight failed to sign off with a win.
At Coventry’s Alan Higgs Centre, Kristian was outpointed over four rounds by Luke Beasley, a novice having his second contest.
Kristian, from Nuneaton, closed a remarkable career with 12 wins, 279 losses and nine draws. He failed to hear the final bell on only five occasions, which is staggering. The defensive maestro was seldom staggered.
The man who saved more shows than you could shake a stick at rarely made headlines and rarely gave interviews. He’d turn up at a hall, test an up-and-coming house fighter, then go.
There were no fanfares or grand ring entrances.
Before his final fight, I caught up with Kristian – and his comments gave a fascinating insight into the mind of a journeyman.
He repeated the question tossed at him: “Do I love boxing?”
“Five or six years ago, I probably would’ve said yes,” the light-welter shrugged. “I still like it, I like the buzz you get out of it. But do I love it? No.
“Boxing is not a sport, it’s a business, especially at my level. It’s a sport for the likes of Anthony Joshua, but unless you’ve got a top promoter, you’ve got to fight on the road.”
It’s a bleeding business Laight, a regular in Birmingham rings, excelled at. The now 41-year-old was, quite simply, king of the journeymen: that brave band of “have gloves will travel” boxers called-in - often at short notice - to test up-and-coming prospects. They are the true survivors of this savage sport.
They expect to taste defeat, they do not expect to be beaten inside the distance. A stoppage means a suspension, a suspension means they cannot earn. And this select group of frequent fighters do very well, financially, from the game.
While others are bestowed with such menacing ring names as The Hitman, The Bodysnatcher and The Executioner, Laight, from Nuneaton, sported the more modest moniker of “Mr Reliable”.
It’s a title that was not going to turn opponents’ blood into ice water, but it’s an apt summary of what Laight brought to the ring in a career that began in 2003. That’s some going when you scan the catalogue of future champs Laight faced: men such as Terry Flanagan, Martin Gethin, Lee Purdy and Gary Sykes.
“It’s down to experience on how to deal with pressure,” said Laight explaining his tungsten durability, “and a bit of toughness and ring craft and a good defence.
“Nine times out of ten you’re not budging me. I think I have a really good chin. Truthfully, in every fight I have a look in the first round. If the kid’s technically superior, I go into defensive mode. If I have an inclination I can beat him, I’ll try to beat him.
“Do I mind being called a journeyman? It is what it is - I prefer being called the ‘away fighter’. When people hear the word journeyman they think of a person prepared to lose. A journeyman is a fighter with the courage to fight any one at any time.
“For me, it just happened this way. I just kept going, I boxed and I boxed. It became like a job.”
The simple statistics would lead non-boxing fans to believe Laight was poor at his chosen profession – he bowed out on a 51 fight winless streak. In fact, he was very, very good at what he did. And what he did was survive.
He’s no mug. He is reluctant to discuss ring earnings, but admits boxing paid for his home.
Laight, immensely likeable, represented a side of boxing, stripped of glamour and glory, seldom seen by TV audiences. He was paid to take the pain dished out by prospects.
But, then, he entered the game after a patchy, 10 fight (five losses) amateur career under no delusions of grandeur. “I went into it blindfolded,” he said. “It was a challenge. I was 21-22, in a dead-end job, earning £120-£130 a week. Then you’re earning £500-£600 a fight. I was living the dream.”
In boxing, money talks, but blood has the final word - and Laight seldom bled.
There were times when he slipped out of opponent mode and fought with a winner’s desire. Keen to honour the memory of legendary trainer Lenny Woodhall, who died weeks before, he upset Carl Chadwick at Hull in August, 2015. “I thought, ‘I’m not going to be a journeyman today, I’m going to put it on this lad.”
It was a momentary aberration. Laight lost his next 14 on the spin.
“It’ll surprise you, but the nerves (before a fight) get worse,” he admitted. “I’m a lot more nervous now because I know I’m coming to the end, I can see the finishing line. Are you going to get hit by a stupid shot?”
We are talking about Kristian Laight here. Therefore, the answer was no.