There are few boxers who can so deftly weaponize the theatrical potential of a press conference like Chris Eubank Jr. In the initial press event for Dmitry Bivol vs. Artur Beterbiev, Eubank Jr. hurled a single, searing word—“scumbag”—like a perfectly placed jab. With one utterance, he summoned humor, anger, retaliation—but subsequently, an apology. His target was a trio of promotional titans: Eddie Hearn, Frank Warren, and the Sauerland brothers, and their respective promotions, Matchroom, Queensberry, and Wasserman Boxing. Eubank had, in one blow, suspended the usual Riyadh-run formalities, his insult dismantling the civility that veils the power structures these giants have controlled for decades.
But, as swiftly as he struck, Eubank Jr. retracted. An apology—sharp and calculated—followed. Why? Was it the tightening legal grip of Queensberry and Matchroom? Or the surfacing of a softer, remorseful side? For those unversed in the Eubank spectacle, perhaps. But for the more astute, it’s clear: this was no act of regret, but an intricately designed performance.
In apology theory, Aaron Lazare argues that apologies are not merely acts of contrition—they are tools for social repair. Eubank’s apology was not about making amends; it was a tactic, a deliberate recalibration in the power-laden world of boxing, where relationships are as valuable as victories. The apology was less an admission of fault, and more an artfully orchestrated move to restore his standing.
As Erving Goffman suggests, public figures engage in “front-stage behavior”—performances crafted to shape the impressions of those watching. Eubank’s apology was not a retreat, but a reassertion of his control. Goffman writes, “When an individual presents himself before others, his performance will tend to incorporate and exemplify the officially accredited values of the society, more so, in fact, than does his behavior as a whole.” By issuing the apology, Eubank was not undoing his outburst but mastering its aftermath—ensuring his public persona remained untarnished, even as he rattled the cages of the sport’s elite.
Yet, Eubank Jr.’s calculated apology wasn’t just a response; it was an echo of “restored behavior,” as theorized by Richard Schechner. The notion that performances are repeated, ritualized actions—performed for the second or nth time—perfectly encapsulates Eubank’s use of the apology. This wasn’t a spontaneous act of remorse but a rehearsed, ritualized gesture, embedded in the theater of boxing promotion. Every move—from insult to apology—was a part of Eubank’s stagecraft.
And then, there is the shadow of his father, Chris Eubank Sr. Psychodynamic theory suggests that identity formation is deeply shaped by the father-son dynamic, and in Eubank Jr.’s case, that dynamic is cast under the glaring lights of the ring. Eubank Sr., with his grandiosity, set a towering standard—one defined by spectacle, charisma, and showmanship. But while his father embraced the loud and theatrical, Eubank Jr. strikes a more delicate balance between performance and restraint.
Here, role strain theory comes into play—the tension of living up to expectations and reconciling one’s own identity with the burden of legacy. For Eubank Jr., the outburst was not merely a slip of temper but an expression of the ongoing internal battle: how to uphold his father’s flamboyant legacy while carving out his own path. The apology reflects this tension, a way to oscillate between the provocateur he was raised to be and the tactician he aims to become.
Yet, the apology itself—crafted so artfully—was anything but a softening. It was another tool in his promotional arsenal, a part of the delicate dance of remaining relevant in the ever-shifting world of boxing. Eubank perspicaciously toggles between provocation and reconciliation, seamlessly shifting from attack to apology, his emotional nuance emblematises his in-ring showmanship and occasional transgressive showboating. Similarly to his father before him, Eubank knows the value of staying in the limelight, even when the fights themselves have become few and far between.
Frank Warren: [On Eubank bringing a sword up on stage at the final press conference] “I asked him, I say, I’m having a bit of trouble cutting this sandwich of mine can he pop up the room later and do it for me”
‘WHAT THE F*** HAVE YOU DONE?’ -EDDIE HEARN & FRANK WARREN/ AJ-DUBOIS, EUBANK JR, BETERBIEV, AJ-FURY, IFL TV, Youtube, [accessed 11 October], https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICqiDafbR2I&ab_channel=iFLTV
In recent dialogue, it seems too, that away from legal threats, the gamified and playful style of Eubank’s rhetoric has been accepted, enveloped and retorted via similar language with Warren’s witty responsive satirical rhetoric displayed in the above quote, featured on iFL TV. Ultimately, Eubank’s apology wasn’t an act of submission—it was part of the game. A reminder that in boxing, as in life, sometimes the apology can be just as carefully staged as the insult. And in Eubank’s world, everything is a performance.
