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BM: Good morning, sir. Who's the man?
CE: Who's the man? Erm... Man-del-a.
BM: You met Nelson, of course. A humbling experience?
CE: Yes (silence).
BM: Erm, and was he aware of your pugilistic achievements?
CE: Yes (more silence).
BM: Right you are. Erm, who or what would you put in Room 101?
CE: Who or what would you put in Room 101? Mandela. (Sensing a crossed wire or two, sparky Boxing Monthly explains the premise of Room 101) Oh, oh, erm, racism. I am a sensitive, emotionally conditioned human being, and I have suffered racist abuse.
BM: How much can you bench press?
CE: I beg your pardon.
BM: Bench press, you know. How much can you lift?
CE: Yours truly has never lifted a weight in his life.
BM: How come?
CE: Boxing is about learning how to box, it's not about lifting weights.
BM: What was your training like?
CE: I did roadwork, bag work, focused on bag work, some ball work, some shadow boxing, just casual, no weights. In most things I did I would try to move in and out, try to use good balance, try to set myself into countering positions due to that being how I often worked in the ring. What I also did was, well, I also did some stretching, some sprinting, some skipping, some sparring, more sparring before a fight. That was it really.
BM: Mr Eubank, I've done some digging, and I've learned that four years ago you murdered three tourists, including an 84-year-old great-grandmother, and buried them near your home in Brighton, England. Dare you deny this?
CE: I'm sorry, but that's a total fabrication. May I ask, who told you this ridiculous story?
BM: I'm sorry, Mr Eubank, but it would be very unprofessional of me to reveal my sources.
CE: I understand.
BM: While we're on the subject, a story from a weekly newspaper in your community reveals that last month, you robbed a local petrol station of a chicken and mushroom flavoured Pot Noodle, a pack of Premier League football stickers, and £76.12 at knife-point. Seems the cover-up worked... until now.
CE: Excuse me, but can I see that newspaper story?
BM: (Pause) Uh ... I just remembered - my dog peed on it.
CE: Your canine just happened to urinate upon it, okay.
BM: Chris, who was your hardest opponent mate?
CE: Well hi there. Michael Watson. He just seemed to be a superman on the night [when they fought for the vacant WBO super-middleweight title in September 1991] and I got battered for eight of 11 rounds. I'd actually given up in the sixth because I knew I couldn't win. But I needed to walk out on my feet and take my beating. I survived because I was beaten into a state of controlled madness, I suppose.
BM: You've spoken about...
CE: (Mr Eubank rudely interrupts) Michael would of beaten anybody that night, apart from me ofcourse. But really, and no exaggerations here, he improved mega between our two fights. I took him way too lightly the first time around, by the time the second fight came along I was in the shape of my life having trained harder for it. That's why it's so suprising that Michael was so good for that second one, I wasn't in my best fighting shape for the first one but I sure was for the second one. If I wouldn't have stopped him, nobody would of, he was onto something I think. He certainly puncher much harder at 12 stone.
BM: You've spoken about taking your beating like a man, even when it's the mother and father of all kickings...
CE: Yes, I have, because even if things are not going your way you can't just quit, that's a coward not a man. And that is not a man of integrity. The Watson second fight was the worst beating I took, worse than the Benn first fight, but I couldn't quit. At the end of the day, winners don't quit and quitters don't win.
BM: You lost your killer instinct after the Watson second fight, didn't you?
CE: I lost my finishing instinct after that, if I couldn't take them out cleanly with one shot then I went for the decision, because I couldn't bludgeon anybody into submission again. When your hands permanently injure an opponent, it does affect you. I was ruthless in what I did to Michael and it's ofcourse one of the downsides to the sport: injuries, particularly permanent injuries. If I was to advertise boxing to people, I would tell them that it forms you into the best shape ever and is the best of confidence builders. I would inform that there are very, very few injuries compared to other sports when you have headgear to protect your heads, facesaver cages to protect your nose, mouthguards to protect your teeth, handwraps to protect your hands, and boxing gloves to protect eachother. It is a sport that develops your hands and feet. What it can do is keep you off the streets, give you a nice hobby, allow you to perform an art in the gymnasium and bring the competitive edge out of you in the amateur tournaments. But there is only pain involved in professional boxing and I wouldn't advise that to anyone.
BM: You almost quit the sport after what had happened to Michael, didn't you?
CE: What brought me back was the realisation that I had done nothing wrong, that had I failed to climb off the canvas when Michael floored me in the 11th round I would have been cheating myself. In that fateful 12th round, I was so tired I could barely stand, so battered I could barely think. I had to keep fighting and punching until there was nothing left, because to lose without knowing that I had given absolutely everything there was to give would have made it impossible for me to live with myself. I would have continued doing that in any fights where I was losing had it not been for me losing my finishing instinct after that fateful night against Michael. You'll notice in my first fights against Collins and Thompson, fights I went on to lose controversially, I had many clear opportunities to finish them comfortably only to literally back off and allow them to recover.
BM: What were your best performances?
CE: Apart from the Benn first fight, I did good in my last couple of fights on ITV before my Sky deal. I went overseas to fight the German and the Irishman in their backyards and beat them on the scorecards.
BM: When did you first start boxing?
CE: I first started boxing just before I escaped to New York, so it was while I was still over here and I would of been 16 years old. I was used as a human punching bag and had mental scars from that experience, so much infact that I didn't find the courage to step into the ring again until many months worth of training had passed just on the punching bags at the Jerome club in New York. Finally, I decided to step into the ring because the other guy told me that he'd go light on me. To his and my suprise, the training I'd done just on the punching bags for all that time seemed to pay off because I was hitting him at will and he started putting all his efforts onto me but I was doing good with him. That gave me confidence. I thought I was the business after that, I had no problem quitting smoking and drinking and just felt really good from there on in.
BM: And you went from strength to strength?
CE: Yes, but it took me years of hard work to become a skilled fighter with movement that was pleasing to the eye. I enjoyed sparring because I enjoyed the gatherings of other boxers around the ring witnessing me perfecting my craft, perfecting my strut, performing my art, being the centre of attention... What I wasn't too keen on was turning professional because I didn't want to be de-graded in any way, having explensively suited and well-educated men gathering to watch a black man fight didn't tickle my fancy. But I did enjoy attention that much that I couldn't quit boxing, so I stuck to the gymnasium and sparred regularly where only fellow fighting people were gathered.
BM: Who were your idols at that point?
CE: I never really had an idol because I always wanted to be my own person, you don't gain respect having idols and copying others. I was a self-styled pugilist. A guy I admired though at that point was Dennis Cruz, he had perfect balance. I also had a lot of admiration for Thomas Hearns' jab, and I admired many black fighters in the lighter weight divisions who were poetic in their moves. Not neccesarily well-known fighters, I just admired those who were poetic, those who were pleasing to the eye. Dennis Cruz was a gymnasium fighter, I saw him beat Pernell Whitaker and Roy Jones at my gymnasium. Pernell was poetic but Dennis was beating him. He was the best gymnasium fighter I saw, the only possible exceptions would maybe be Mark Breland or when I got back to England, Herol Graham. I sparred with Herol and he was difficult to suss out, he was adroit in the gymnasium, elusive, and he was abit of a tricky ****y. I think he was better in the gymnasium than in the middle of an arena for whatever reason I don't know, but I do know that he could embarass anybody in the gymnasium.
BM: A tricky ****y eh? (Laughs) So how old would Roy Jones of been back then?
CE: Not too sure, but he was only a lightweight back then believe it or not. Yes, I remember him doing the Junior Olympics at lightweight, he won the Gold medal there as a lightweight. He was very ripped, very fresh-faced, very thin, very fast. We called him Lee back then, that's what he was called, he was called Lee.
BM: Uhh... Chris, are you sure this was Roy Jones?
CE: I'm positive.
BM: Ooookay...
CE: Excuse me?
BM: How do you think you would of fared against somebody like Gerald McClellan or Michael Nunn?
CE: I have beaten a tall southpaw so Nunn would not of been so much of a problem. Infact, the tall southpaw I beat also beat Nunn! I was superior to Benn, McClellan lost that one. I know that he also lost to Dennis Milton, I cut Milton to pieces in the gymnasium.
CE: Who's the man? Erm... Man-del-a.
BM: You met Nelson, of course. A humbling experience?
CE: Yes (silence).
BM: Erm, and was he aware of your pugilistic achievements?
CE: Yes (more silence).
BM: Right you are. Erm, who or what would you put in Room 101?
CE: Who or what would you put in Room 101? Mandela. (Sensing a crossed wire or two, sparky Boxing Monthly explains the premise of Room 101) Oh, oh, erm, racism. I am a sensitive, emotionally conditioned human being, and I have suffered racist abuse.
BM: How much can you bench press?
CE: I beg your pardon.
BM: Bench press, you know. How much can you lift?
CE: Yours truly has never lifted a weight in his life.
BM: How come?
CE: Boxing is about learning how to box, it's not about lifting weights.
BM: What was your training like?
CE: I did roadwork, bag work, focused on bag work, some ball work, some shadow boxing, just casual, no weights. In most things I did I would try to move in and out, try to use good balance, try to set myself into countering positions due to that being how I often worked in the ring. What I also did was, well, I also did some stretching, some sprinting, some skipping, some sparring, more sparring before a fight. That was it really.
BM: Mr Eubank, I've done some digging, and I've learned that four years ago you murdered three tourists, including an 84-year-old great-grandmother, and buried them near your home in Brighton, England. Dare you deny this?
CE: I'm sorry, but that's a total fabrication. May I ask, who told you this ridiculous story?
BM: I'm sorry, Mr Eubank, but it would be very unprofessional of me to reveal my sources.
CE: I understand.
BM: While we're on the subject, a story from a weekly newspaper in your community reveals that last month, you robbed a local petrol station of a chicken and mushroom flavoured Pot Noodle, a pack of Premier League football stickers, and £76.12 at knife-point. Seems the cover-up worked... until now.
CE: Excuse me, but can I see that newspaper story?
BM: (Pause) Uh ... I just remembered - my dog peed on it.
CE: Your canine just happened to urinate upon it, okay.
BM: Chris, who was your hardest opponent mate?
CE: Well hi there. Michael Watson. He just seemed to be a superman on the night [when they fought for the vacant WBO super-middleweight title in September 1991] and I got battered for eight of 11 rounds. I'd actually given up in the sixth because I knew I couldn't win. But I needed to walk out on my feet and take my beating. I survived because I was beaten into a state of controlled madness, I suppose.
BM: You've spoken about...
CE: (Mr Eubank rudely interrupts) Michael would of beaten anybody that night, apart from me ofcourse. But really, and no exaggerations here, he improved mega between our two fights. I took him way too lightly the first time around, by the time the second fight came along I was in the shape of my life having trained harder for it. That's why it's so suprising that Michael was so good for that second one, I wasn't in my best fighting shape for the first one but I sure was for the second one. If I wouldn't have stopped him, nobody would of, he was onto something I think. He certainly puncher much harder at 12 stone.
BM: You've spoken about taking your beating like a man, even when it's the mother and father of all kickings...
CE: Yes, I have, because even if things are not going your way you can't just quit, that's a coward not a man. And that is not a man of integrity. The Watson second fight was the worst beating I took, worse than the Benn first fight, but I couldn't quit. At the end of the day, winners don't quit and quitters don't win.
BM: You lost your killer instinct after the Watson second fight, didn't you?
CE: I lost my finishing instinct after that, if I couldn't take them out cleanly with one shot then I went for the decision, because I couldn't bludgeon anybody into submission again. When your hands permanently injure an opponent, it does affect you. I was ruthless in what I did to Michael and it's ofcourse one of the downsides to the sport: injuries, particularly permanent injuries. If I was to advertise boxing to people, I would tell them that it forms you into the best shape ever and is the best of confidence builders. I would inform that there are very, very few injuries compared to other sports when you have headgear to protect your heads, facesaver cages to protect your nose, mouthguards to protect your teeth, handwraps to protect your hands, and boxing gloves to protect eachother. It is a sport that develops your hands and feet. What it can do is keep you off the streets, give you a nice hobby, allow you to perform an art in the gymnasium and bring the competitive edge out of you in the amateur tournaments. But there is only pain involved in professional boxing and I wouldn't advise that to anyone.
BM: You almost quit the sport after what had happened to Michael, didn't you?
CE: What brought me back was the realisation that I had done nothing wrong, that had I failed to climb off the canvas when Michael floored me in the 11th round I would have been cheating myself. In that fateful 12th round, I was so tired I could barely stand, so battered I could barely think. I had to keep fighting and punching until there was nothing left, because to lose without knowing that I had given absolutely everything there was to give would have made it impossible for me to live with myself. I would have continued doing that in any fights where I was losing had it not been for me losing my finishing instinct after that fateful night against Michael. You'll notice in my first fights against Collins and Thompson, fights I went on to lose controversially, I had many clear opportunities to finish them comfortably only to literally back off and allow them to recover.
BM: What were your best performances?
CE: Apart from the Benn first fight, I did good in my last couple of fights on ITV before my Sky deal. I went overseas to fight the German and the Irishman in their backyards and beat them on the scorecards.
BM: When did you first start boxing?
CE: I first started boxing just before I escaped to New York, so it was while I was still over here and I would of been 16 years old. I was used as a human punching bag and had mental scars from that experience, so much infact that I didn't find the courage to step into the ring again until many months worth of training had passed just on the punching bags at the Jerome club in New York. Finally, I decided to step into the ring because the other guy told me that he'd go light on me. To his and my suprise, the training I'd done just on the punching bags for all that time seemed to pay off because I was hitting him at will and he started putting all his efforts onto me but I was doing good with him. That gave me confidence. I thought I was the business after that, I had no problem quitting smoking and drinking and just felt really good from there on in.
BM: And you went from strength to strength?
CE: Yes, but it took me years of hard work to become a skilled fighter with movement that was pleasing to the eye. I enjoyed sparring because I enjoyed the gatherings of other boxers around the ring witnessing me perfecting my craft, perfecting my strut, performing my art, being the centre of attention... What I wasn't too keen on was turning professional because I didn't want to be de-graded in any way, having explensively suited and well-educated men gathering to watch a black man fight didn't tickle my fancy. But I did enjoy attention that much that I couldn't quit boxing, so I stuck to the gymnasium and sparred regularly where only fellow fighting people were gathered.
BM: Who were your idols at that point?
CE: I never really had an idol because I always wanted to be my own person, you don't gain respect having idols and copying others. I was a self-styled pugilist. A guy I admired though at that point was Dennis Cruz, he had perfect balance. I also had a lot of admiration for Thomas Hearns' jab, and I admired many black fighters in the lighter weight divisions who were poetic in their moves. Not neccesarily well-known fighters, I just admired those who were poetic, those who were pleasing to the eye. Dennis Cruz was a gymnasium fighter, I saw him beat Pernell Whitaker and Roy Jones at my gymnasium. Pernell was poetic but Dennis was beating him. He was the best gymnasium fighter I saw, the only possible exceptions would maybe be Mark Breland or when I got back to England, Herol Graham. I sparred with Herol and he was difficult to suss out, he was adroit in the gymnasium, elusive, and he was abit of a tricky ****y. I think he was better in the gymnasium than in the middle of an arena for whatever reason I don't know, but I do know that he could embarass anybody in the gymnasium.
BM: A tricky ****y eh? (Laughs) So how old would Roy Jones of been back then?
CE: Not too sure, but he was only a lightweight back then believe it or not. Yes, I remember him doing the Junior Olympics at lightweight, he won the Gold medal there as a lightweight. He was very ripped, very fresh-faced, very thin, very fast. We called him Lee back then, that's what he was called, he was called Lee.
BM: Uhh... Chris, are you sure this was Roy Jones?
CE: I'm positive.
BM: Ooookay...
CE: Excuse me?
BM: How do you think you would of fared against somebody like Gerald McClellan or Michael Nunn?
CE: I have beaten a tall southpaw so Nunn would not of been so much of a problem. Infact, the tall southpaw I beat also beat Nunn! I was superior to Benn, McClellan lost that one. I know that he also lost to Dennis Milton, I cut Milton to pieces in the gymnasium.
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