Donovan and Bevan Dominate in Body Shot Masterclasses at Croke Park

On a raucous night at Croke Park, two very different body-shot masterclasses told the story.

In one, Donovan dismantled McKenna with ruthless precision. In the other, Bevan broke Brennan down round by round until the inevitable finish. Both men left the ring having proved the same point: if you don’t protect your ribs on this stage, you don’t last long.

Donovan’s spiteful body work leaves McKenna on the brink

Southpaw against southpaw, Donovan and McKenna opened with a tense, probing first round. Donovan, the taller man, refused to rush. He let McKenna lead, watched the patterns, and picked his spots.

Early on, Donovan dipped downstairs with intent. A right hook to the body thudded home, then a lovely left to the chin snapped McKenna’s head back. McKenna tried to respond, stepping in behind his own offense, but he kept walking onto straight shots. A jab caught him clean and another left hand opened a cut around his left eye. Donovan banked the opener 10-9, already in control.

The second round underlined the gap. Donovan again allowed McKenna to go first, then punished him for every mistake. He threaded right hooks through the guard, ripped to the body, and never wasted a punch. McKenna absorbed another string of lefts and more heavy work downstairs, his midsection taking a steady pounding. The score moved to 20-17 Donovan – and the pattern was set.

Then came the explosion.

In the third, McKenna started on the front foot, desperate to close the distance and change the narrative. He pressed, surged forward, and tried to force Donovan into exchanges. But Donovan’s composure never wavered. A clean southpaw jab checked McKenna’s advance, then the body attacks returned with venom.

Inside, Donovan found a home for a right hook to the body. Then another. The next shot sank in deep, and though McKenna stayed upright for a heartbeat, the damage told. He dropped, delayed but clearly hurt, the kind of knockdown that screams of pain rather than shock.

McKenna beat the count, only to be met by another merciless assault. Donovan dug to the body again, then whipped hooks up top – a right to the chin, then a lead right hook that landed flush. Everything he threw started to land: body shots, shots over the top, clean work downstairs that folded McKenna’s resistance. McKenna tried to fire back, but Donovan walked him through a two-piece combination and closed the round with authority.

A 10-8 frame made it 30-26 on the cards. The story, though, was written on McKenna’s body and his bleeding eye. Donovan’s accuracy, variety, and sheer spite to the midsection had him cruising and McKenna clinging on.

Bevan batters Brennan with a relentless, clinical finish

If Donovan’s display was measured cruelty, Bevan’s was a sustained storm.

The main card at Croke Park opened with Bevan eager to erase memories of a scare in June. From the first bell against Brennan, he fought like a man intent on leaving no doubt.

He doubled up on the jab immediately, claiming the centre of the ring. A body shot from Brennan offered early resistance, but Bevan’s response was emphatic: a left hook upstairs, then two more hooks slamming into the body. They traded inside, both hunting the same target, yet it was Bevan’s left to the ribs that kept finding the mark. By the final minute, he was stabbing a jab to the stomach, threading left uppercuts through the middle and dictating every exchange. The opener was his, 10-9.

Round two saw Bevan turn the screw. Again he went straight to the body with a left hook, then began to introduce the right hand. A couple of rights got through in the first minute – the first real glimpse of that weapon – followed by attempted right uppercuts through the centre. A left hook upstairs clipped Brennan, who tried to answer on the inside, only to walk straight into a right uppercut. A stiff jab snapped his head back. Bevan kept digging to the midsection, piling on the damage and stretching his lead to 20-18.

The third round broke Brennan’s foundations.

They went to work immediately on the inside, trading shots, but Bevan’s long jab created the separation he wanted. With that space, he went back to his money punch: the left hook to the body that had landed all night. Brennan had worn those shots as best he could, yet you sensed a reckoning was coming.

Bevan changed the script with a clever switch. Instead of going downstairs, he sent the left hook upstairs – and Brennan crumpled. Down he went, undone by the variation. When he rose, Bevan pounced. Non-stop punching, a furious assault, and a right hand that crashed home. Brennan hit the canvas again. A brutal 10-7 round pushed the score to 30-25 and left Brennan hanging by a thread.

Round four felt like a countdown.

Bevan opened with another “lovely” body shot, this time with bad intentions written all over it. He came out fast, hunting the finish, throwing in bunches. Brennan, clearly hurt to the body by the way he covered up, tried to grit his teeth and answer with a combination that drew a roar from the crowd. It was defiance, not a turning of the tide.

Bevan simply marched back in. A crunching body punch folded Brennan further. A stiff jab rocked his head back. A right hand over the top found its target. As the round ticked into its final minute, Bevan jumped into another right, then went to work on the inside with savage body shots and uppercuts. It was brutal, efficient, and one-sided.

By the halfway point of the fight, the score read 40-34, but the numbers barely captured the beating Brennan had endured.

The sixth round, though, removed any doubt about how this should have ended.

The doctor examined Brennan, who somehow was allowed to continue. Bevan wasted no time. Another body shot crashed in. Brennan went down for a fourth time. A left uppercut, followed by a right hand, sent him sprawling again. The towel finally came in, but Brennan was already laid out on the canvas.

By then, the conclusion felt overdue. After four knockdowns, the fight should have been stopped. Bevan’s body work had done its job long before the final punch landed.

On a historic Croke Park night, Donovan and Bevan didn’t just win. They sent a clear message to anyone sharing their division: at this level, a soft midsection is a liability you simply cannot afford.