BOOK REVIEW: Legendary British fight figure Mickey Duff called him: “The most outstanding boxer from this county never to have fought for the world title.” Former flyweight champion Charlie Magri said of him: “He was fantastic. He should have earned a fortune.” Terry Lawless, London manager of world champions John H. Stracey, Maurice Hope and Magri, reflected: “He’s probably the most gifted boxer I have ever managed, different to everyone else. I’ve never seen people do things like him.”

They were talking about Kirkland Laing, the former British welterweight champion who is probably best known in America for defeating Roberto Duran in one of the biggest upsets of the 1980s.

Laing is now the subject of a biography, The Gifted One: Kirkland Laing Through the Eyes of Others, stylishly self-published by British boxing enthusiast and Laing admirer Oliver Jarratt, who tells me that all profits from the sale of the book will go to Laing.

This thoroughly researched book tells Laing’s story from the time he left Jamaica as a child with his parents and siblings for a new beginning in England — the afternoon sky was so grey when they arrived that the young Kirkland thought it was nighttime — up to his final fight at the age of 40, with a brief glimpse of Laing’s post-boxing life.

Jarratt has spoken with many of Laing’s old opponents — presumably over the phone — while other quotes come from various publications.

No one seems to have a bad word to say about Laing, and some of those who fought him seem to have a genuine affection as well as respect for this free-spirited individual. His partner for 10 years, Paula Chan, the mother of one of Laing’s children, recalls their time together with great warmth.

A sense of frustration is sensed, however, in comments from those who were responsible for guiding Laing’s career. All of them seemed to feel that Laing could have achieved greatness had he applied himself diligently to his boxing career. Laing’s former trainer, Joe Ryan, felt that Laing would only commit himself fully to his preparation if he felt a sense of fear concerning an opponent. For instance, Laing was ready mentally and physically for his bout with Duran in Detroit in 1982, which was televised on ESPN. For many of his bouts, though, Laing relied on his natural talent to see him through — as it usually did.

Reports of Laing’s fights are culled from British newspapers and boxing publications, augmented by Jarratt’s own observations from viewing videos of key bouts, including the 1972 ABA (U.K. championship) featherweight final when Laing narrowly outscored the brilliant young Scottish boxer Vernon Sollas, who later became a British professional champion.

Laing was considered unique in British boxing because he kept his hands low and relied on his reflexes to avoid punches. There was a feeling that he could be made to wilt under pressure, but he showed grit when boxing with a broken jaw in an amateur bout in Holland. He was adept at making opponents miss and countering crisply — and he made it look easy. He had crafty moves one would expect from an American old-school craftsman, such as pushing an opponent back with a nudge of the shoulder to make room for telling punches.

Jarratt’s book brought back some memories of my boxing-writing days in Britain before crossing the pond. I well remember being at ringside at Wolverhampton in the English midlands for Laing’s fight with a game and willing welterweight named Peter Morris in March 1977, and recall that while Laing looked vastly the superior boxer, Morris was simply outworking him and outhustling him in some of the rounds.

My seat was near Laing’s corner, and towards the end of the fight Terry Lawless, Laing’s manager at the time, called across to ask: “How have you got it?” I told him I had Morris slightly in front. I recall Lawless rolling his eyes in exasperation, and in the corner before the start of the next round he urged Laing to “stop posing and start throwing punches,” or words to that effect. Laing salvaged a 10-round draw.

In a rematch eight months later, Laing stopped Morris in the fifth round, knocking him down twice. Why hadn’t he done this in the first meeting? Simply because, Laing admitted, he had only trained properly for the return fight.

That was Laing, infuriating to those who felt he could have gone so much further in his career, but always loveable.

Lawless despaired of Laing’s failure to apply himself to his profession, and Mickey Duff, a longtime partner and friend of Lawless, took over as Laing's manager. Duff believed that a world title fight would surely follow Laing’s superb victory over Duran, but Laing was inactive for a year. It seems he simply went missing. “I had to turn down three offers because Kirkland couldn’t be found anywhere,” Duff is quoted as saying. When Laing returned to the ring it was in a dangerous fight in Atlantic City (with television coverage on the NBC network) against the capable junior middleweight Fred Hutchings: Larry Holmes was making a heavyweight title defence in the main event. Laing lost on a last-round knockout against Hutchings, who was a full weight division bigger than him. Hopes of a world title fight were left in ruins.

Jarratt has put a tremendous effort into producing a faithful record of Laing’s career, and the only error I noticed was in one of the book’s illustrations, a photo of Colin Jones, the Welsh welterweight, in his dressing room “under the watchful eye of manager and trainer Eddie Thomas”. I don’t recognise the cornerman standing next to Jones, but it definitely isn’t Eddie Thomas.

There is one passage that jars, though. The late Dennie Mancini, a well-respected London manager, trainer and cuts man, is introduced early in the book as the manager of one of Laing’s opponents, Joey Singleton. On page 271, in a chapter covering Laing’s fight with a tough slugger named Rocky Kelly, we are informed that at the end of the opening round “Laing returned to Mancini’s ministrations and Duff’s quiet advice”, yet I couldn’t find any reference to Mancini having been brought on board to work in Laing’s corner for this fight. This was a puzzling loose end in a work in which the author has been painstakingly meticulous.

Minor criticisms aside, the book is clearly a labour of love and an interesting and deeply informative look at probably the most talented but underachieving individualist ever to grace the British fight game.

The Gifted One, hardback, 453 pages, illustrated, £18 is available directly from the author, Oliver Jarratt. Orders can be made by PayPal at www.oliverjarratt.com or (for U.K. buyers only) by cheque to PO Box 14985, Solihull, West Midlands, B93 3EU. Price in the U.K. is £23.20, which covers postage and packing. Overseas postage costs are set out at www.oliverjarratt.com .