“Doping in Boxing: Eubank Jr.’s Warnings and the Sport’s Unseen Dangers”
The sting of a needle, the whisper of a tainted supplement, the shadow of a positive test—boxing’s relationship with doping is as old as the sport itself. Yet, in an era where headlines oscillate between viral knockouts and scandalous suspensions, the conversation around performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs) remains fractured. Enter Chris Eubank Jr., a fighter whose name is synonymous with both legacy and controversy. While his recent focus has been on settling generational scores with Conor Benn, Eubank Jr. has long sounded the alarm on boxing’s doping epidemic, calling it a “cancer” that threatens the sport’s soul. But as Claressa Shields’ recent exoneration and the IOC’s Olympic reprieve for boxing dominate headlines, a question lingers: Are we treating the symptoms while ignoring the disease?
Claressa Shields and the Paradox of “Innocence”
Claressa Shields, the self-proclaimed “GWOAT” (Greatest Woman of All Time), found herself in unfamiliar territory earlier this year—not in a ring, but in a courtroom. After testing positive for marijuana following her dominant win over Danielle Perkins, Shields faced a suspension that threatened to derail her trailblazing career. The Michigan Unarmed Combat Commission initially labeled her a doper, a stigma that clings like sweat even after exoneration. Shields, who vehemently denied using cannabis, fought back with hair follicle tests and expert testimonies, ultimately clearing her name. The commission’s reversal, detailed in a Sports Illustrated report, was a victory, but the damage was done.
Shields’ case underscores boxing’s flawed antidoping infrastructure. Marijuana, banned in competition by many commissions despite its non-performance-enhancing effects, remains a contentious inclusion on prohibited lists. Yet, the real issue lies deeper. As Shields told Fight Sports TV, “They’ll suspend you for a joint, but let real cheats slip through.” Her ordeal highlights a system where trivial offenses overshadow sophisticated doping regimes—regimes that Eubank Jr. has repeatedly warned enable “chemical warriors” to thrive.
Boxing’s Olympic Redemption: A Double-Edged Sword?
Days after Shields’ exoneration, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) recommended boxing’s inclusion in the 2028 Los Angeles Games, ending years of uncertainty. The decision, celebrated by GB Boxing as a “new era,” follows the IOC’s expulsion of the corrupt International Boxing Association (IBA) and provisional recognition of World Boxing, a fledgling governing body. On the surface, this is a win for integrity. But dig deeper, and contradictions emerge.
The IOC’s embrace hinges on promises of stricter antidoping measures, yet boxing’s professional ranks remain a Wild West. While Olympic hopefuls face rigorous testing, elite pros navigate a patchwork of commissions with varying standards—a disparity Eubank Jr. has labeled “hypocrisy.” Consider this: Olympic boxers are subject to the World Anti-Doping Agency’s (WADA) code, which bans substances like marijuana. Meanwhile, in the pro ranks, commissions like Nevada’s still suspend fighters for THC while turning a blind eye to testosterone replacement therapy (TRT) loopholes. “The Olympics aren’t saving boxing,” argued a Inside the Games editorial. “They’re exposing its double standards.”
Eubank Jr.’s Crusade: Voice in the Wilderness
Chris Eubank Jr. isn’t a saint. His career, marred by showboating and tactical missteps, has drawn as much ire as admiration. Yet on doping, he’s emerged as an unlikely whistleblower. In 2022, after his canceled bout with Benn—a fight scuttled by Benn’s positive clomifene test—Eubank Jr. didn’t just demand accountability; he dissected boxing’s culture of complicity. “Promoters, commissions, they’re all enablers,” he told ESPN in a post-fight rant. “They’ll let you juice to sell tickets, then act shocked when someone dies in the ring.”
While recent headlines haven’t spotlighted Eubank Jr.’s antidoping rhetoric, his warnings resonate through ongoing scandals. Take the case of Amir Khan, banned for two years in 2023 for ostarine use—a substance he claimed entered his system via a tainted IV. Or the lingering suspicion around fighters who mysteriously bulk up between camps. Eubank Jr.’s point is blunt: Boxing’s lax testing and inconsistent penalties create a playground for chemists. “We’re not fighting men,” he said in a 2024 interview. “We’re fighting labs.”
The Unseen Dangers: Beyond the Positive Test
Doping’s dangers extend far beyond inflated biceps or spiked stamina. For every caught cheat, countless others evade detection, their enhanced physiology turning fists into wrecking balls. Studies cited by Inside the Games link PEDs to heightened cardiovascular strain, a ticking clock for fighters already risking brain trauma. Yet, the sport’s economic machinery incentivizes silence. A promoter quoted anonymously in Sports Illustrated admitted, “A clean sport is a poor sport. Knockouts sell. Who cares if they’re chemically assisted?”
Then there’s the psychological toll. Fighters like Benn, even when cleared, wear the scarlet letter of suspicion. Benn’s 2022 clomifene case, which he blamed on “egg contamination,” became a meme before it became a verdict. Fans dubbed him “Omelette Boy,” a nickname that trended higher than his comeback wins. “Once they call you a cheat, you’re never clean,” Benn confessed to DAZN. This stigma, Eubank Jr. argues, pushes clean fighters to extremes—over-training, reckless weight cuts—to “prove” their purity, often with tragic consequences.
The Vicious Cycle: Doping’s Ripple Effect
Boxing’s doping crisis isn’t self-contained. It fuels a cycle of distrust that alienates sponsors, frightens networks, and fractures fan loyalty. When the IOC expelled the IBA, it cited “governance failures,” a euphemism for corruption that includes doping cover-ups. Yet, as ESPN noted, the IOC’s own handling of boxing has been criticized as “half-measures,” prioritizing optics over overhaul.
For fighters, the message is mixed. Olympic inclusion offers a purity narrative, but pros see a sport still willing to sacrifice integrity for profit. Eubank Jr.’s solution? Centralized testing, lifetime bans for dopers, and promoter accountability. “Fine the promoters when their fighters pop,” he urged in a SecondsOut interview. “Hit their wallets, and watch how fast this ‘epidemic’ ends.”
As boxing staggers toward 2028, torn between Olympic redemption and professional rot, Eubank Jr.’s warnings echo louder than ever. The sport’s future hinges not on LA’s gleaming stadiums, but on its willingness to confront the monsters in its bloodstream.
(To be continued in Part 2: The Fixes—Testing Overhauls, Fighter Advocacy, and the Road to a Cleaner Sport)
Doping in Boxing: Eubank Jr.’s Warnings and the Sport’s Unseen Dangers (Part 2)
The sting of a needle, the whisper of a tainted supplement, the shadow of a positive test—boxing’s relationship with doping is as old as the sport itself. Yet, in an era where headlines oscillate between viral knockouts and scandalous suspensions, the conversation around performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs) remains fractured. Enter Chris Eubank Jr., a fighter whose name is synonymous with both legacy and controversy. While his recent focus has been on settling generational scores with Conor Benn, Eubank Jr. has long sounded the alarm on boxing’s doping epidemic, calling it a “cancer” that threatens the sport’s soul. But as Claressa Shields’ recent exoneration and the IOC’s Olympic reprieve for boxing dominate headlines, a question lingers: Are we treating the symptoms while ignoring the disease?
The Governance Gap: IOC’s Olympic Theater vs. Pro Boxing’s Reality
The International Olympic Committee’s (IOC) recommendation to include boxing in the 2028 Los Angeles Games has been hailed as a triumph for the sport’s integrity. By sidelining the scandal-plagued International Boxing Association (IBA) and endorsing the nascent governing body World Boxing, the IOC projects an image of reform. Yet, this “redemption” masks a stark contradiction: Olympic boxing’s stringent adherence to the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) code contrasts sharply with the anarchic landscape of professional boxing. While Olympians face rigorous out-of-competition testing and harsh penalties, professional fighters navigate a labyrinth of commissions with inconsistent rules. Nevada, for instance, suspends athletes for THC—a substance WADA no longer prohibits—while ignoring therapeutic use exemptions (TUEs) that enable testosterone loopholes.
This duality isn’t just hypocritical; it’s dangerous. As Chris Eubank Jr. noted, “Olympic boxing is a PR stunt if pros can still juice freely.” The IOC’s move, detailed in an ESPN report, risks creating a false narrative of progress while the pro ranks fester. For every Claressa Shields—cleared of marijuana charges after a Sports Illustrated-documented fight—countless fighters exploit lax protocols. Until governance is unified, boxing’s Olympic renaissance will remain a veneer.
Tech vs. Cheats: Can Science Outpace the Dopers?
Claressa Shields’ exoneration via hair follicle testing reveals both the promise and limitations of antidoping technology. While traditional urine tests flagged her for marijuana, advanced methods proved her innocence—a small victory in a war science is losing. Modern doping thrives on designer substances like ostarine and hypoxia-mimicking drugs, which evade standard screens. Meanwhile, “tainted supplement” defenses, like Amir Khan’s 2023 ostarine case, exploit testing gaps.
The solution? Investment in predictive analytics and athlete biological passports (ABPs). ABPs, which track biomarkers over time, could detect anomalies indicative of doping, even when specific substances evade detection. Yet, as Inside the Games notes, only 30% of professional boxing commissions use ABPs, citing cost. This reluctance underscores a grim truth: boxing’s antidoping efforts are less about ethics than economics. Promoters prioritize profit over safety, leaving chemists to innovate while regulators lag.
The Fighter-Led Reformation: Eubank Jr., Shields, and the Push for Accountability
Chris Eubank Jr.’s antidoping crusade has often been dismissed as grandstanding, but recent developments suggest a shift. Fighters like Claressa Shields, whose Fight Sports TV interview exposed boxing’s skewed priorities, are joining him. Their rallying cry? Athlete-led oversight. Shields advocates for a global boxing union to standardize testing and penalties, while Eubank Jr. demands promoter fines for doping violations—a “hit their wallets” strategy to force accountability.
This grassroots momentum aligns with broader trends. The provisional recognition of World Boxing, praised by GB Boxing, signals a hunger for transparent governance. Yet, without enforceable mandates, even progressive bodies risk becoming figureheads. The path forward requires fighters to leverage their collective influence, boycotting promoters who tolerate doping and demanding WADA-level scrutiny.
The Road Ahead: A Sport at a Crossroads
Boxing stands at a precipice. The IOC’s 2028 endorsement and Shields’ vindication offer glimmers of hope, but systemic change demands more than symbolism. Will the sport embrace centralized testing, lifetime bans, and promoter accountability—or remain shackled to profit-driven complacency? The answer lies in boxing’s willingness to confront its demons, trading short-term spectacle for long-term legitimacy. As Eubank Jr. warns, “We’re not just fighting for titles anymore. We’re fighting for the soul of the sport.” The bell has rung; the next round decides boxing’s fate.
