THAT was the last game, the last night of Chris Eubank’s glory, and he left the sport dignified.
In the devastating aftermath of last Saturday’s war, when dreams of escalation suddenly crumbled, it was a reminder of another loss in the Eubank family. It was 1998, Sheffield was the venue and Eubank, the father, was rematching Carl Thompson for the WBO cruiser class title.
They had fought to a bloody stalemate just 91 days earlier. The rematch is always brutal for both. Eubank lost the first game with just one point on two cards and three points on the other. He finished with his broken left eye closed and ugly. Thompson, on the first defense, survived the knockdown. They had, somehow, survived each other. Eubank went to the hospital for two days and nights to recover and check for long-term damage. We’ve all witnessed something quite brilliant and terrifying.
The rematch was a relentless battle of attrition, one of the great fights of the 1990s. Frank Warren, the promoter, said the first match was “a contender for the match of the decade.” He was right, both were right.
The rematch begins when the first match ends. Every second of each completed round is very intense and difficult. The left eye showed signs of swelling and early hematoma. To this day, in the right light, the dark, hidden secrets of that damage are still evident on Eubank’s face. Eubank knew that, entering the second battle, defeat would be the end. His body started to shut down and in the first fight, he didn’t jump over the rope because his knee hurt.
The left eye was closed at the end of the ninth day. Eubank insists he can still see out – that’s not true. He begged his corner to cut it, to cut it open and bleed. He pleads for the act of petty and illegality. At the end of the ninth round, when he sat down, the doctor arrived. There was no mercy in that holy blood-stained ring.
The score at the end of the ninth half belonged to Eubank winning; The two referees gave him three innings, the third a draw. “All I have to do is stay alive and the fight is mine,” Eubank continued. “Just three rounds.” Well, only three rounds with one eye.
The doctor did the right thing, the humane thing and broke Eubank’s heart by pulling him out. Thompson is the winner. It was the only loss in Eubank’s 14-year boxing career. Eubank was not happy in the ring; he thinks he’s done enough in the first fight, and he believes he can keep fighting when the rematch is over. By the way, it’s not an illusion, it’s just a belief and a wish.
Thompson and Eubank go to war (JohnGichigi/Allsport)
In the dressing room, I squeezed into the chair next to Eubank. He was looking up at the lamp, his left eye still hidden under the swelling. He was exhausted from the fight and his life in the ring. He talked about making a decision about his career in September of that year, but he probably knew that night it was over.
No groans. He was a big boy and later said of failure: “You must never be a bad loser, accept failure and fail properly afterwards.” It deserves to be printed and posted on the door of every gym in the country. It seems his son followed the advice.
In that dressing room, there was an action that was forever clear in my mind. When Eubank was speaking, he was taking off his boots. It is a long and painful process. Every time he leaned forward to pull the leash, a drop or two of blood flowed from his nose, mouth, or lips. Spots fell between his legs and every time he looked at them and wiped the floor. Then he would sit up, talk, and then go back to his boots. There will be more stains, he will mop the floor clean again. This had happened many times and Eubank seemed surprised by the continued appearance of red spots on the floor. He just kept wiping them away, cleaning up the mess. He went to a faraway land during that dressing room visit, a land where magical blood appears between your legs every time you bend over.
Years later, one day, Eubank wondered about the nature of defeat and defeat in the ring. He lost five times and each round was brutally defeated. Every round, that’s not an exaggeration. Eubank said: “I asked myself after the failures. “How did I lose? I lost as a man with dignity? Yes, I did. He certainly did, even in battles with a lot of bad blood and stiff competition. He is always honest when he returns to the dressing room. Perhaps that, when last Saturday was fully digested, might just be the lasting memory of the abrupt end. Eubank, the son, like Eubank, the father, bravely accepted defeat. Remember, Eubank pursued rematches in the same year as both Thompson and Steve Collins.
On that night in Sheffield, he finally wiped the blood, took off his boots, and took a shower. That’s the end.
Eubank was just 31 years old on that devastating night in Sheffield, it was his 52nd and final battle. We still miss him. Thanks for all the memories, courage, hearts and controversies. And all the blood he gave us throughout his career.
