This Fort Worth army vet is not crazy, even if Bare Knuckle Boxing is
As a professional boxer, Clay Burns’ record isn’t great, but, he says, “I’m undefeated in the parking lot.”
He is kidding. And he is dead serious.
Burns looks like he’s 20, stands 5-foot-6, doesn’t weigh but much more than a big bucket of water, has two percent body fat, and he is the last guy you’d want to cross in a parking lot.
Few people could ever claim they were born to bare knuckle box, but in this case, God may have created Clay Burns of Fort Worth to do just that.
On Saturday night in Biloxi, Miss., Burns will fight in the new Bare Knuckle Fighting Championships. If you think bare knuckle boxing sounds insane, wait ‘til you watch it. Then there will be no doubt.
This is not a joke; the sport was sanctioned last year, and advertises itself as “The World’s First Legal, Sanctioned, and Regulated Bare Knuckle Fighting Promotion.”
The last thing you want when it comes to bare knuckle fighting is a lame impostor.
The first, sanctioned bare knuckle event in more than 100 years in the U.S. was in June of this year, in Wyoming. The only “protection” allowed are wrist wraps.
Burns found the website, filled out the application, and, with a brief history as a fighter in MMA and as a pro boxer, he had a deal. He’s on the 14-fight fight card against a man named Reggie Barnett.
Burns will be paid $2,300 for this fight.
These guys fight not for money, but because they just love it.
Burns trains himself, and works out at former champion, and Fort Worth native, Paulie Ayala’s gym in West Fort Worth. That’s where I met Clay, crushing a heavy bag with his bare hands.
An Army veteran who completed a tour in Iraq is 31 with four kids and 10 dogs is everything you love about sports writing, and boxing. There is zero pretense about Clay, who is so genuine, sincere and honest that, even if you disagree with him, you’ve got to love him.
Clay grew up in Alexandria, Louisiana and was introduced to boxing by his father, who owned a local flower shop. Clay has worked at Wal-Mart, he breeds dogs, does construction jobs, and other odd gigs to make ends meet.
“I grew up doing hard labor and making minimum wage most of my life,” he said in a high-pitched, Louisiana twang. “This is all I’ve ever known.”
He joined the Marines in 2006, and completed a four-year tour. He still regrets leaving the Marines, and makes zero bones about the U.S. military involvement in Iraq.
“We were there for the price of oil and that’s it,” he said. “I love the Army and I think everyone should do it, but that’s why we were there.”
He returned home and started his career in Mixed Martial Arts, and boxing. He won his first MMA fight, but he did it for free.
He had some relationships with girlfriends that went sideways, then due south that sound like they came from a daytime talk show script.
Burns actually was paid $8,000 to fight on an undercard in Las Vegas, and trained in Floyd Mayweather’s gym.
“They gave me $1,600 in food vouchers; but I had to weigh 128 pounds for the fight, so I couldn’t eat,” he said. “My coach and my dad, who were both with me, they gained 20 pounds that week.”
Burns had about 40 amateur fights on his resume but he was fighting a guy with 400 fights on his.
That’s been Burns’ career: He takes on “bad” fights that are glorified setups.
“Greater the risk, greater the reward,” he said.
Burns is 5-4-2 with four knockouts as a pro boxer. One of those losses was in Louisiana and he was paid $1,200.
“I’m not looking to win by points,” he said. “I’m trying to knock guys out.”
He has not fought professionally in one year, and he applied to the Bare Knuckle Fighting Championships merely as a way to re-enter the ring professionally.
There is a degree of chaos, which would make most mortals run, to his life only he is completely comfortable with it all, which may explain why he’s so agreeable to fighting with his bare knuckles.
“I’ve had a lot of bare knuckle fights,” Burns said, “but they’re usually outside of bars.”
He’s kidding. And he’s dead serious.