BM: When did you first “slip the right hand, block the left hook”?
PB: I first got into it through my elder brother David, who had about 20 amateur fights. I was about 11 at the time. In my first year, Nigel Wenton beat me in the schoolboy semis. He was better than his brother Richie. After about 15 fights, I fell out with the trainers and moved to where a few of me mates boxed. Just the other day, I was looking at my old amateur card: 42 fights, just five losses. Dead flash I was. A switch-hitter and a bit of a banger.
But, when I was 15, me dad passed on and I really went off the rails. They chucked me out of school for fighting and I was sent to a special school. I started robbing cars, robbing shops, fighting, being violent and, at 15, I was locked up at DC [detention centre]. I came out fit as fuck, started training but ended up back out robbing, locked up again. Vicious cycle, man.
BM: What were your hopes when you turned pro in October 1989.
PB: To be honest, I never expected too much out of it. Quite a few mates around our area had a few pro fights then drifted away. That’s what I thought I’d be like.
Rocky Lawlor [an ex-Midland Area bantam champion in the 80s] lived at the bottom of our road. Well-respected geezer. Only little, but a proper dangerous fucker. Still is. We always knew each other ‘cos both our families are Irish and, one night in the pub, he offers to take me over to a pro gym in Dudley for a spar.
Next thing I know, I’m having a medical and making me pro debut for Nobby [Losers Limited stable manager Nobbs]. It all happened a bit too quickly.
First fight, I proper levelled a kid called Alan Baldwin in the early rounds. Nobby’s frantic: “Don’t get stopping him!” So I carried him and the ref only gives me a draw!
Next up, Nobby throws me in with Ronnie Stephenson of Doncaster. Man against a boy. Ronnie dropped me in the second and beat me on points, though I did beat him after, once I’d got a bit stronger.
BM: You won your next six. When did it dawn that it might be more lucrative to be “the opponent” than chase titles and glory yourself?
PB: That would be when I tore the muscle in me right arm against Brian Robb [February 1992]. I first twinged the shoulder in the second round. I was losing the fight, so I’ve really let one go in the last round. I’ve knocked him sparko but me shoulder’s totally fucked. I should’ve took a year off, man, but, at the time, I couldn’t afford to. So, for years, I carried on fighting one armed. It’s only the last couple of years, since I started having acupuncture, that I’ve been able to risk throwing the right hand again.
After that, I got into a rut of losing. But I liked fighting anyway, so I ended up getting paid to do it every other week.
BM: You were still only 23 when you challenged Harald Geier for the WBA International title over 12 rounds in Austria.
PB: That was the best shape I was ever in, man. I had to train eight weeks solid, like a proper professional, to do it. No booze, nothing. Me missus thought I looked like a proper rake.
I’d love to see that fight on video. It was close, man, he was nothing special. Manufactured. Ninth round, I’ve creamed him with a body shot, clipped him again on the way down and he’s out, man. The ref gives him his count, then walks me back to me corner and starts wiping me boots, then he wipes Geier’s boots and, next thing, the bell goes.
Every time I caught him after that, the ref stops the fight and gives me a lecture for anything. [Buckley lost unanimously on points].
BM: Any regrets about the route you opted to take?
PB: When I consider what some of the kids I boxed went on to achieve, I realise I could’ve done a lot more myself, yeah. I held my own with Michael Brodie over six, no problems. Same with Paul Ingle, who I boxed the week after I won my Midland [super bantam] title. In our rematch, I had flu and it was fuckin’ hard. [Buckley lasted the full eight-rounds both times].
Against [future IBF super bantam champion Lehlohonolo] Ledwaba, it was so easy I thought he was holding back but was assured later he wasn’t.
Years ago, I beat Alan McKay down in London. They only gave it a draw but it fucked his British title shot with [Colin] McMillan.
So I know I was good enough to have fought for the British title around then. There was talk when I had my Midland belt but that’s all it was. Talk.
My defence was always strong. I rarely get hurt because I slip the shots and I’m still a decent counter-puncher.
I could bang more than my record suggests. When I plant the feet and let the shots go, I can whack. But I had my lazy spells and went off the boil.
BM: Of the 11 bona fide world champs you fought, who stood out as exceptional?
PB: Though Naz was the most awkward, I always rated Duke McKenzie as the most skilful I fought. Schooled to fuck, man. Duke was barely a flyweight when I boxed him but his jab was like someone ramming a broom handle in your face.
Strength-wise, Scott Harrison was probably the toughest. You really feel his strength. Stand in front of him and you’re in trouble.
[Acelino] Freitas was a real strong, heavy-handed bastard but probably the hardest shot I took, believe it or not, was from Colin McMillan, who snapped me right on the chin. I got back up, but I didn’t know too much about where I was.
My hardest fight came against [the future British, Commonwealth and European bantam boss] Paul Lloyd. He was a good body puncher. Stopped me with an accumulation of shots. We’d had a good row but my face never marked up as bad as it did that night. I was aching for ages after.
BM: Career highspot?
PB: That would definitely be winning Midland titles at two different weights. I always trained 100% for my title fights and I never lost my super feather [title] in the ring.
I lost the super bantam to Matthew Harris on a Richie Woodhall bill in Telford. Harris was already billed for an eight-threes but, when the chief support dropped out, they phoned me the day before and offered me really good money. They gave it to Harris but all he did was run. I never had a scratch on me. I know I won it.
BM: 249 fights must have brought material rewards?
PB: The biggest payday I got was the second time I boxed Naseem because I was the only one who’d took him the distance at the time and they wanted to avenge that.
Back then, I used to do lots of eight-threes against the top kids. I don’t make as much now and I do my bit of graft, labouring for my brother, a builder. He has a lot of weekend work.
The boxing’s allowed me to have nice holidays. I’ve got a nice home, I drive a nice car and my daughter and missus have nice things. But it really ain’t just about the money. Boxing kept me out of prison, tell you the truth. Me brother Johnny, who’s dead now, was in and out of jail. One of me nephews is doing 111/2 years, another’s doing eight for robbing vans. Loads of other mates are inside. Today, I hang around in different circles, do me own thing.
The game has allowed me to earn a lot of respect and it’s increased my own self-respect. I’ve won several awards for services to boxing off the Boxing Board and Midland Area. Me old mum, who’s 68 now, keeps ‘em all.
It’s also allowed me to meet countless top people. Me and Nobby really look after each other. Some managers or matchmakers, who don’t really know the score, might try and pull a stroke but, let’s be honest, Nobby ain’t the shyest person in the world. I leave all the agg [trouble] to him.
BM: It would appear that 249 opponents have brought you many new friends.
PB: True. I’ve never disrespected anyone I’ve fought and I’ve never disliked any of my opponents either. Afterwards I pop into their changing room or they come to mine and we’ll have a cup of tea together. I wish ‘em all the best and I genuinely mean it. They’re just trying to earn a few quid like me.
Take Miguel Matthews [the Welsh centurion]. Nuff respect to that geezer, man. I boxed him four times [five actually] and always had to be on me guard. First time, Nobby warned me: “First thing he’ll do is whack you in the bollocks, then there’ll be one round the back of the head. After that he’ll try and gouge your eyes out.” And that’s exactly what he was like! I learned so much off him.
Today, I can mix it up pretty good if I need to. To be fair, a lot of these young unbeaten prospects I face now are a bit in awe of me and I get a lot of respect.
But I pretty much ref my own fights. If I’m hit low, I warn ‘em. If they keep on doing it, they get one back on the blind side of the referee. They soon pack up.
BM: Describe your fight-day routine.
PB: I never drive to my fights. If someone can’t drive me, I’ll take the train. At Nobby’s gym, we always have a laugh going to the shows. Nothing too serious. That’s part of the buzz, man. I suppose it would be different if it was a gym of top pros fighting for the major titles. In the past, when I’ve been up against a really big puncher who I knew was coming to spark me, the butterflies would run. That made me sharper. But, nowadays, I rarely get nervous.
At the shows, I like to sit quietly at ringside and study the boxing. I particularly keep my eye on all the lightweights to welters coming through ‘cos it’s inevitable that I’ll be boxing them soon. It beats sitting in the visitors’ changing room, where everyone’s morbid and the novice trainers talk nonsense. As an opponent, on the big shows you know it’s 90-10 in the home kid’s favour. Yet you hear some stupid sods pumping their kid up for a kamikaze mission when they’ve no chance of lasting the distance, never mind winning.
Afterwards, once the kid’s been mashed up, his trainer’ll tut: “We’ll have to do more running.” They could run from John O’Groats to Land’s End but he’ll still not see his hand go up. They need someone like Nobby to tell ‘em how it is. No illusions.
When it’s time to fight, the jokes stop and the game-head goes on ‘cos it’s a dangerous business is this.
BM: You seem to have reassessed and dropped a level after Welsh bomber Bradley Pryce beat you in just 70 seconds at Renfrew in June 2002.
PB: I’d boxed Bradley before on the Tyson bill in Manchester — that was a career highlight — and took him to the bell, no problem. But in the return, I think I was 10-2 [142 lbs], while someone told me Pryce was over 11st [154lbs]. That was a bad day at the races. I’d been in the car for about six hours. Literally got out, weighed in and was in the ring. He caught me and hurt me.
But I could still probably do eight-threes, at a certain weight, with three weeks’ notice.
I ain’t been coming to the gym as often lately but I rarely turn a fight down. I’ve come in at five o’clock in the morning, flagging from a club. Then, [at] 11 o’clock, Nobby calls me for a show at Nottingham that evening. And I’ll take it. Fighting the kids from the small stables is more like a spar to me. But you get a mentality. If I win, the promoters might stop using me.
My best weight today is probably around 10st but I don’t give a fuck what they weigh. Recently, I’ve took some good kids, shook ‘em up and lost on points. They knew it weren’t a walk in the park.
BM: In your last 65 fights since the Pryce drubbing you haven’t been stopped, yet have only won three times. What drives you on?
PB: Every now and then, I have a bad day at the office and box shit. I’ve had phone calls when I’ve been out on the piss, haven’t been the gym for a few weeks but I’ve needed a few quid. I’ve felt fucked after two or three rounds but I always think: “Don’t take the fight if you ain’t gonna hang in there.” So I just grit me teeth. I’m clever enough now to take ‘em for a little walk. Why fight three minutes every round if you can get away with just doing a minute and a half?
I ain’t got it in me to just quit. If I’m dropped, I get up. It’s only the world-class geezers that have stopped me. It hasn’t happened often.
BM: You’ll be 37 soon. Close to the end of the road?
PB: People keep asking me: “Will you make 300?” I don’t know. Safety-wise, boxing’s as good as it can be at the moment and, as long as I’m not getting hurt and I’m doing okay, I’ll carry on.
And then? I couldn’t go back to the amateurs ‘cos there’s too much politics in it but I’ll definitely stay in the game and try and pass on what I know.
BM: How would you like to be remembered?
PB: As a man who didn’t play at the game. Too many demand six months’ notice for every fight. What’s that about? I’ve given me all to boxing. From 10-threes top of the bill in Germany to six-twos in town. I just love to fight.
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