By Suraj Karowa/ANW , Sports Correspondent
Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, London – November 16, 2025
In a night that felt like the final chapter of a gritty British boxing saga, Conor Benn unleashed a torrent of precision and power to dismantle Chris Eubank Jr over 12 lopsided rounds, securing a unanimous decision victory that echoed with the sweet sound of vindication.
The scores—119-107, 116-110, and 118-108—painted a picture of utter domination, as Benn, the 29-year-old son of a legend, rose from the ashes of scandal and defeat to claim his most emphatic win yet. Twice in the frantic final minute, he floored his rival with bone-jarring combinations, only for the bell to deny the knockout both fighter and fans craved.
The electric atmosphere at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, packed with 60,000 roaring supporters, crackled from the opening bell. Benn’s entrance was a nod to family legacy: striding out to a remix of The Fugees’ “Ready or Not” blending into Phil Collins’ anthemic beats—sounds that once heralded his father Nigel’s brutal ring conquests in the ’90s.
Father and son shared a joyful dance before live drummers propelled Conor into the fray, his eyes locked on redemption. Eubank Jr’s arrival drew a storm of boos, the 36-year-old clad in a lavish white fur coat, shadowed by his stoic father and an unexpected guest: rapper 50 Cent, barking out tracks from his catalog as they approached the ring.
But beneath the bravado, cracks were evident. Eubank, campaigning at middleweight—a full two divisions above Benn’s natural welterweight frame—arrived drained, his physique ravaged by a punishing weight cut and a draconian rehydration clause limiting post-weigh-in gains to just 10 pounds.
What followed was less a contest than a clinic, with Benn dictating terms from the outset.
The first four rounds were a masterclass in control.
Benn, who had entered the bout shadowed by a 2022 double positive test for clomifene and a chaotic loss to Eubank just seven months prior, shed his old recklessness. His jab snapped like a whip, probing and punishing, while Eubank circled warily, his trademark flair reduced to tentative footwork.
“I told you I’d be clinical this time,” Benn had promised in Friday’s weigh-in stare-down. He delivered, cruising through the early stanzas as the crowd’s cheers morphed into murmurs of anticipation.
By the midpoint, the fight’s one-sidedness was undeniable. A rare left jab from Eubank in the fifth briefly stirred hope, but Benn countered with mirror-image precision.
In the sixth, Eubank slipped to the canvas—ruled no knockdown—but his wild haymakers whistled harmlessly past Benn’s guard. The half-time bell rang on a shutout for the younger man, his confidence swelling like a gathering storm.
The second half amplified the mismatch. Round seven saw Benn bullying Eubank to the ropes, his right hand crashing through defenses with surgical force.
Eubank’s head snapped back, his eyes glazing with the weight of futility. A smattering of boos turned to bored whistles rippling across the stadium, fans trading jabs of their own in the stands as the ring action flatlined.
Even in the eighth, when Eubank mustered a solid right, Benn taunted him with sneers and shrugs, his footwork a ballet of evasion and explosion.
Nigel Benn’s beaming thumbs-up on the Jumbotron before the 11th round captured the levity. The elder Benn, once the “Dark Destroyer,” couldn’t mask his glee at this unscripted romp.
But the drama ignited in the 12th: a shuddering left hook-right cross combo buckled Eubank’s knees, sending him crashing down with delayed inevitability.
He clambered up at eight, only for Benn to swarm again, dropping him a second time amid a frenzy of unanswered blows. Referee Victor Loughlin hovered, the count ticking perilously close to 10, when the bell mercifully intervened—sparing Eubank a stoppage but sealing his humiliation.
As the verdict flashed on the screens, Benn erupted in jubilation, hoisted by his cornermen amid chants of “The Destroyer!” Eubank, slumped on his stool, offered a hollow nod. In the ring-center interview, Benn shut down trilogy talk with fire: “This Benn-Eubank saga? It’s over.
Done. I’m moving on to bigger things at welterweight—where the real monsters are.” His words cut deep, a final punctuation on a rivalry reignited by promoters but sustained by personal demons.
Eubank Jr, ever the enigma, mustered grace in defeat: “It’s 1-1 now. I’ve got personal battles to fight outside these ropes—stuff that’s been weighing me down more than any scale. Who knows about round three? Maybe not.
Tonight’s his, though. Respect.” At 36, with a career ledger of faded promise and ill-fated weight descents, whispers of retirement swirl.
This bout, critics argue, exposed the cynicism of boxing’s undercard machinations: a rematch too far for a fighter whose chin and spirit have eroded under familial pressure and fleeting glory.
For Benn, the victory is catharsis incarnate. The clomifene saga that tarnished his name, the UKAD probes, the “guilty until proven innocent” limbo— all faded under the stadium lights. “Three years of hell,” he later reflected in the locker room, Nigel at his side. “But tonight? Pure relief. Dad taught me to destroy, but smarter this time.”
Beyond the Benns, the night underscored boxing’s enduring pull in Britain. This was no sterile pay-per-view; it was tribal theater, evoking the ’90s clashes of their fathers—Nigel Benn vs. Chris Eubank Sr., a feud that defined an era.
Yet as Eubank Jr contemplates the exit ramp, the sport yearns for fresh blood. Benn, now 23-1, eyes welterweight elites like Mario Barrios or Eimantas Stanionis. His promoter, Eddie Hearn, hinted at Stateside sojourns: “Conor’s ready for the world stage. No more domestic soap operas.”
As the crowd dispersed into the London night, Tottenham’s floodlights dimmed on a rivalry’s ragged end. For Eubank Jr, peace might lie beyond the gloves. For Benn, the path ascends—forged in dominance, tempered by trial. In the end, boxing’s brutal poetry prevailed: redemption for one, reckoning for another.
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