Flashback to Wembley, September 21, 2024: 96,000 throats roaring, Anthony Joshua stalking Daniel Dubois like a man possessed.
The IBF strap dangled, three-time champ glory within grasp. Round one, Joshua clips Dubois with a right that echoes like thunder. Crowd erupts, AJ’s back—or so they think. But by round three, Dubois’ left hook crashes home, buckling knees that once carried him to gold. Joshua rises, grimaces, presses on.
Round four, another thudding shot floors him again. Round five? A straight right from nowhere, and it’s over. Ref waves it off at 2:51, Joshua’s sprawled, staring at the lights. Four knockdowns in five rounds. Not a war—a wake-up call from hell.
Fast-forward three months. Elbow surgery sidelines him, rehab grinds through the fall. Now, December 19, 2025, Kaseya Center, Miami, Florida. Netflix streams it live, eight rounds of three minutes each, 10-ounce gloves. Jake Paul, 12-1 with seven knockouts, the YouTube wrecking ball turned cruiserweight menace, steps up.
At 28, Paul’s no joke anymore—Tommy Fury tested him, Mike Perry folded in 60 seconds, Mike Tyson lasted eight rounds last November before the heat got too much. Paul’s right hand, that overhand rocket, has slept bigger names than his critics admit. And Joshua? 28-4, 25 stoppages, but those four losses linger like bad debts: Ruiz twice, Usyk twice, now Dubois etching the freshest scar.
The Unspoken Truth: Joshua’s Team Knows He Gets Starched If Demons From Dubois KO Arise
Here’s the whisper in the Matchroom war room, the one Eddie Hearn drowns out with talk of “legacy fights”: those Dubois demons aren’t buried. Joshua’s chin, once granite, showed hairline fractures against Ngannou’s wild swings in March ’24—dropped cold in two, saved by the bell. Against Dubois, it shattered under volume and spite. Paul’s no headhunter like Dynamite Dan, but his pressure cooker style—feints into flurries, body work that saps wills—mirrors the nightmare.
Imagine round three in Miami: Paul circles, jabs low, then unleashes that right as Joshua lunges. If the Dubois ghosts stir—the hesitation, the wobble—they don’t fade under Florida lights. They multiply.Hearn’s playbook screams denial: “AJ’s levels above,” he barks on podcasts, eyes darting. But privately?
Scouts pore over Paul’s tape, tallying the power shots that buckled Tyson’s 58-year-old frame. Joshua’s camp knows: at 36, post-surgery, one clean connection resurrects that Wembley fog. Paul’s not Dubois’ raw fury, but his accuracy—65% landed power in the Tyson bout—pierces the same gaps. And those eight rounds? Short enough for Joshua to gas if the head snaps back early, long enough for Paul to swarm the hurt.Paul smells it too.
“AJ’s chin is suspect,” he tweeted last week, attaching Dubois highlights. No bluff—Paul’s prepping in Vegas, sparring southpaws who mimic Joshua’s reach. Netflix pours in the cash, 300 million subs primed for the circus, but beneath the hype, it’s a high-wire act. Joshua wins, he laughs off the “washed” tag, eyes Fury rematch. He loses? Dubois’ shadow engulfs him, Paul’s victory lap a tattoo on British boxing’s pride.
The truth festers unspoken: if those knockout imps from round five awaken— the doubt, the dip—they don’t slumber. Paul starches him mid-round, gloves hugging shoulders as Miami gasps. Not a verdict, a verdict’s aftermath. Joshua’s team prays for exorcism. Paul? He’s the uninvited agent of retribution, the angel of death maybe, hammer in hand. December 19 isn’t redemption. It’s roulette with loaded dice.
In many ways, Joshua can’t win even if he does in this fight, as, he’s expected to in round 1 anyway. Almost like a no-win situation for Joshua.
