Author name: Niall Doran

December 19, Kaseya Center, Miami, Netflix lights blazing. Eight three-minute rounds, 10-ounce gloves, one fight that Anthony Joshua cannot win, no matter what the scorecards say. Think about it cold. Joshua is 36, 28-4, former two-time unified heavyweight champ, Olympic gold, 25 knockouts, face of British boxing for a decade. He is expected, no, required, […]

September 21, 2024. Wembley Stadium. Daniel Dubois lands a right hand that isn’t even perfectly placed. You can’t break what cannot be broken. That is true for many things in life of course like God’s people and God, the father of Jesus Christ and so on. But not the case with Joshua’s chin apparently. Ask

Whispers in the shadows of Matchroom HQ don’t lie. They say Anthony Joshua hasn’t been the same since that fifth-round right hand from Daniel Dubois detonated on his chin at Wembley. They say the elbow surgery was only half the story. They say the real injury is deeper, invisible, and it’s called fear. And right

Look at the timeline. Every single time Anthony Joshua has been rattled before the first bell, he’s followed it with a nightmare inside the ropes. Andy Ruiz in New York, 2019: Joshua spent fight week grinning, calling it “just another fight,” then got sparked in seven because the little fat guy got inside his skull.

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,

The ink dried, the press release dropped, and that was it. Anthony Joshua, two-time unified heavyweight champion, Olympic gold medalist, the man who once filled Wembley three times over, quietly put his name on a contract to fight Jake Paul on December 19th. And in that moment, the version of AJ the world once believed

You remember that night in Vegas, don’t you? August 2017, the T-Mobile Arena humming like a fever fight dream for fight fans. Conor McGregor, the foul-mouthed leprechaun from Crumlin, stepping into Floyd Mayweather’s world for a cool $100 million payday. It was spectacle on steroids—Irish trash talk meets American untouchability. The world tuned in, 4.3