Donovan Dominates McKenna with Ruthless Body Work
Southpaw against southpaw, but from the opening bell there was only one man really in command.
Donovan, taller and sharper, took the measure of McKenna early, letting him lead and calmly reading every move. McKenna tried to seize the initiative in the first minute of Round 3, stepping on the gas and looking to close the distance, but Donovan refused to be dragged into reckless exchanges. He slid just out of range, picked his moments, and punished the gaps.
McKenna surged forward, busy but often untidy. Donovan’s response was cold and clean: a southpaw jab spearing through the middle, then another. McKenna landed a left downstairs and clipped Donovan with a right hook to the chin, yet the round slowed to a more deliberate pace and Donovan’s composure told. He kept stabbing at the body, kept finding that jab. By the end of three, the cut around McKenna’s left eye and the 30-26 scoreline underlined who was really dictating the fight.
The pattern had been set from the start. Donovan opened by letting McKenna throw first, watching, downloading. Once he’d seen enough, he went to work on the midsection. A right hook dug in downstairs, a lovely left snapped into the chin, and McKenna repeatedly walked onto jabs he couldn’t quite avoid. Each time he tried to answer, Donovan met him with another body shot, another straight left. The first round belonged to Donovan, 10-9, and it never really slipped from his grasp.
Then came the breakthrough.
In the next session, Donovan found a home for a right hook on the inside and never stopped hammering away. A brilliant right hook to the body crashed in, and McKenna’s legs betrayed him. There was a delayed reaction, but the damage was obvious: DOWN goes McKenna. He beat the count, yet Donovan had him marked now. Another body punch. And another. Donovan ripped at the ribs, then climbed upstairs with a right hook to the chin. A lead right hook landed flush. Everything seemed to connect.
McKenna tried to fire back, pride forcing him into exchanges, but Donovan’s assault didn’t slow. Body shot, then a shot over the top, then another clean dig downstairs. A sharp two-piece from Donovan closed the round, and the 10-8 card for a 20-17 lead told the story of a fighter in complete control and a rival already wilting under sustained punishment.
From there, it was less a contest and more a systematic dismantling, Donovan’s body work steadily stripping away McKenna’s resistance, one rib-rattling hook at a time.
Bevan brutalizes Brennan with sustained attack at Croke Park
On an historic boxing night at Croke Park, Bevan walked in with a point to prove after a scare in June. By the time the towel finally came flying in, he’d made that point with savage clarity.
The main card opened with Bevan immediately looking to establish authority behind a busy jab. He doubled it up from the start, then whipped a left hook upstairs and dug two more into the body. Brennan tried to answer in kind, slinging his own hooks to the midsection and landing a left upstairs, but every exchange seemed to favour Bevan. He threaded jabs to the stomach, probed with left uppercuts through the middle, and banked a solid opener, 10-9.
Round 2 showed the shape of what was coming. Bevan went straight back to the body with a neat left hook, then began to introduce the right hand. A couple of rights broke through in the first minute, the first real signs of that shot in the fight. He mixed in right uppercuts, a left hook upstairs, and a stiff jab that snapped Brennan’s head back. All the while, he continued to invest in the midsection, piling up damage and another 10-9 round for a 20-18 lead.
The pressure then spiked.
They met in close to start Round 3, trading on the inside, but Bevan’s long jab soon created the distance he wanted. The left hook to the body, which had landed all night, finally cashed in. He sank it in again, then cleverly switched upstairs with the same hand. Brennan didn’t cope. DOWN he went.
He rose, only to be met by an onslaught. Bevan let his hands go in a relentless barrage. A right hand crashed home. DOWN again. The bell and the referee spared Brennan from an immediate finish, but the 10-7 score and 30-25 margin painted a bleak picture.
Bevan came out for Round 4 with bad intentions and no desire to let Brennan off the hook. A lovely body shot opened the session and he poured forward, throwing in volume, hunting the stoppage. Brennan tried to bite down and respond, putting together a combination that drew a roar from the crowd, yet his body language betrayed him. He was clearly hurt downstairs, arms wrapping protectively around his ribs, movement slowing.
Bevan sensed it and turned the screw. A crunching body punch, another stiff jab that snapped the head back, a right hand over the top. His work on the inside — body shots and uppercuts in tight — was ruthless and precise. He swept the round 10-9 to move 40-34 ahead, but the scorecards were becoming irrelevant. Brennan was surviving on heart alone.
Into the second half of the fight, a point many at ringside doubted Brennan would ever see after the third-round battering, the damage finally caught up. The body shot that closed the fifth looked like the beginning of the end, and the ringside doctor stepped in to examine Brennan. He was allowed to continue, but the reprieve didn’t last.
Bevan went straight back downstairs. Another body shot. Brennan folded again — DOWN for a fourth time. A left uppercut ripped through the guard, a right hand followed, and Brennan crashed to the canvas once more. DOWN again, this time laid out, the towel arriving too late to spare him the final blow.
By then, the conclusion felt inevitable. Bevan’s body attack had broken Brennan piece by piece, and the argument was no longer about who was winning, but whether the fight should have been stopped earlier. Four knockdowns told their own story.
On a night meant to restore his momentum, Bevan did more than that. He delivered a statement at Croke Park, the kind of ruthless, targeted performance that lingers in the memory — and sends a clear warning to anyone eyeing him from across the ring.
