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« on: December 11, 2025, 05:43:11 am »Chandler Kinney vs Tate McRae
Weigh In
At the weigh-in, Chandler Kinney steps onto the scale first, 128 pounds, compact and athletic, eyes focused straight ahead. Tate McRae follows, 130 pounds, standing tall and confident, her gaze locking onto Chandler’s. The two women hold each other in a tense stare down, unflinching, neither backing away, their rivalry radiating in the silent intensity of the room. Security and officials hover nearby, ready but not needing to intervene, as the crowd murmurs in anticipation. The atmosphere is electric, a quiet tension before the storm.
Chandler keeps her fists relaxed at her sides, jaw tight, breathing controlled. Tate shifts slightly, bouncing lightly on her heels, a smirk threatening but not fully forming. They exchange no words, just measured, calculating looks—each assessing the other, noting every twitch, every muscle, every sign of intent. The moment stretches, long and charged, until the referee signals the weigh-in is complete. The two finally step back, still locked in their mental battle, and the anticipation for their showdown in the ring builds palpably.
Walk Out
The arena lights dim and the music hits, signaling the walkouts. Chandler Kinney steps onto the stage first, wearing a deep red sports bra and matching shorts that highlight her toned frame. Her expression is laser-focused, and she pumps her fists once for the crowd, which erupts in cheers. Every step toward the ring is precise, measured, her eyes never leaving Tate, who stands waiting at the ropes.
Tate McRae follows, clad in a sleek black and gold outfit, her movements smooth, confident, almost gliding as she enters. She flashes a small, controlled smile, but her eyes are sharp, locked on Chandler. The crowd roars at her presence, sensing the tension between the two. She steps into the ring with a fluid grace, bouncing lightly on her toes, hands raised in a ready stance.
As the bell for introductions nears, both fighters stand at opposite ends, the intensity between them palpable. They exchange no words, only hard, calculating stares, the kind that promises the upcoming fight will be a battle of skill, endurance, and raw willpower.
The referee raises each fighter’s hand, signaling that all is set, and the bell for round one is moments away.
Odds
Based on their attributes and fighting styles, the betting odds favor Chandler Kinney slightly for her combination of power, cardio, and speed, but Tate McRae’s precision, jab, and defensive skills make her a strong challenger.
Official odds:
Chandler Kinney -130
Tate McRae +110
Chandler is the slight favorite due to her balanced offense and resilience, but Tate’s reach, head movement, and counter-punching ability make her dangerous, so this fight could easily go either way.
Round 1
The bell rings and both fighters explode out of their corners, circling each other warily before unleashing their first volleys. Chandler feints low, then snaps a sharp jab toward Tate’s chin, which she barely dodges, countering immediately with a hook to Chandler’s ribs. The crowd roars as they trade rapid combinations, Chandler landing a thudding cross to Tate’s midsection while Tate fires back with a flurry of hooks and quick jabs to Chandler’s shoulders and head.
They pivot and weave, each trying to find an opening. Chandler lands a vicious uppercut that snaps Tate’s head back, followed by a crushing body shot that makes the smaller fighter wince. Tate counters with a low hook to Chandler’s ribs, then jumps in with a straight cross, catching Chandler under the eye. Blood immediately begins to bead from a nose strike as Tate’s power punches find their mark, and the crowd can barely contain their excitement.
Both women are relentless, exchanging strikes like seasoned warriors. Chandler ducks a wild hook and comes back with a spinning hook to Tate’s chest, leaving her staggered. Tate responds with a sharp jab-right-left combo to Chandler’s face, snapping her head back and drawing a gasp from the audience. Near the end of the round, a slight slip from Chandler almost looks like a knockdown, but she catches herself just in time, her balance saved by lightning-fast reflexes.
The bell finally rings, but both are breathing heavily, sweat mingling with the trickle of blood from Tate’s nose. Each is battered, bruised, but ready to continue. The crowd erupts in appreciation of the relentless pace and punishment handed out.
Score: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Running Total: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Round 2
The fighters come out cautiously, knowing Round 1 took a toll, but it doesn’t take long before both are trading ferocious combinations again. Tate, still nursing her bloody nose, presses Chandler with quick jabs, snapping her head back repeatedly, but Chandler anticipates a straight cross and slips low, catching Tate’s ribs with a punishing hook that makes her double over. Tate shakes it off and counters with a spinning back fist to Chandler’s shoulder, followed by a vicious uppercut that leaves Chandler staggering.
They clinch briefly, grinding against each other, then break apart with fists flying. Chandler lands a nasty body blow to Tate’s midsection that seems to knock the wind out of her, but Tate responds with a hard cross to the jaw that causes Chandler to stumble toward the ropes. The crowd roars at the sheer intensity as both fighters are now visibly fatigued but refusing to back down. Sweat runs down their faces as they unleash flurries—Tate targeting the ribs and chest, Chandler retaliating with hooks and uppercuts aimed at Tate’s head and body.
Chandler feints to the left then drills Tate with a hook to the ribs and Tate is hurt. Her legs are wobbly and she stumbles back the ropes catching her before she goes down! That last shot shook Tate and she clinches tight holding on until the ref breaks them apart.
A controversial moment occurs when Chandler slips and goes down, but she rolls away and jumps back to her feet. Tate sees the opening and lunges with a vicious hook to the abdomen, then lands a jab to Chandler’s temple, but Chandler weaves and responds with a thudding cross to Tate’s midsection and Tate is wincing in agony. The bell rings, ending the round just as they throw simultaneous hooks at each other as the ref sends them to their corners.
Score: Chandler 9 – Tate 10
Running Total: Chandler 19 – Tate 19
Round 3
Both fighters come out swinging, knowing the fight is dead even. Tate’s left eye is beginning to swell from a sharp cross Chandler landed late in Round 2, and a fresh trickle of blood starts from a grazed nose. Chandler presses the attack immediately, jabbing to Tate’s ribs and snapping a hard hook to the cheek that makes her wince. Tate counters with relentless body shots, pounding Chandler’s abdomen and chest, and the crowd roars at every punishing strike.
They trade blows in a brutal back-and-forth, neither giving an inch. Chandler lands a straight right that snaps Tate’s head back, then smashes a short hook under her ribs. Tate doubles over but recovers quickly, driving her knee slightly forward in a clinch to create space and landing a vicious uppercut that opens a small cut under Chandler’s left eye. Blood drips, mixing with sweat, and Chandler reels but doesn’t back down.
Midway through the round, a particularly nasty exchange leaves both women gasping, leaning on each other for a brief moment before breaking apart. Another hook from Chandler grazes Tate’s nose, drawing more blood, while Tate responds with a thudding cross to Chandler’s body. Both are now sucking air, their torsos heaving, muscles trembling, bruises forming across their ribs and midsections. The bell finally sounds, giving them a moment to regroup but leaving the crowd on their feet, applauding the raw intensity.
Score: Chandler 9 – Tate 10
Running Total: Chandler 28 – Tate 29
Round 4
Both fighters come out still reeling from the previous round, sweat dripping and muscles tight, eyes locked with unrelenting focus. Chandler moves first, using her reach to snap off jabs, then sneaks in a vicious cross to Tate’s ribs that doubles her over. Tate counters with a hard hook to Chandler’s midsection, but Chandler absorbs it and swings back with a punishing uppercut that clips Tate under the chin.
Tate stumbles, trying to recover, but Chandler doesn’t let up—she drills a series of body shots, chest and ribs, and Tate’s legs start to wobble. Another crushing hook to the abdomen sends Tate stumbling backward into the ropes, her mouthguard flying slightly, and suddenly she goes down hard, her knees and side hitting the canvas with a loud thud. The crowd gasps, and the referee drops immediately to start the count.
Tate’s arms flail, trying to push herself up, but the pain is evident—her ribs and midsection throb from the brutal bodywork. She beats the count at eight, but she’s clearly shaken, every breath sharp and labored. Chandler retreats slightly, circling, jabbing to keep Tate off balance, while Tate sways, trying to regain footing, her left eye already beginning to swell from earlier damage.
The bell finally sounds, giving Tate a brief reprieve, and her corner rushes in to stabilize her, pressing ice to her side and back, while Chandler smirks and shakes off the hits she took, ready for the next round.
Score: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Running Total: Chandler 38 – Tate 38
Round 5
Tate limps to the center of the ring, her legs shaky and body tight, knowing she’s already behind on points and her stamina is teetering. Chandler wastes no time, circling with sharp jabs and lunging hooks aimed squarely at Tate’s ribs and midsection. Each body shot lands like a hammer, folding Tate forward, her arms instinctively coming up to protect her aching torso. Sweat drips from both fighters as the pace intensifies, Chandler using her reach and power to dominate the center of the ring.
Tate tries to fight back with a couple of quick jabs and an overhand hook, but her strikes lack the snap they had in earlier rounds. Every time she swings, Chandler counters, forcing her back again. Tate clinches desperately, wrapping her arms around Chandler to slow the relentless body assault and steal a second or two to breathe. The referee steps in briefly, separating them, but Chandler immediately snaps back with a quick combination to the body and ribs, keeping Tate off balance.
By the final thirty seconds, Tate is visibly wobbly, swaying on her feet as each hit sends shocks through her torso. She barely survives the round, her corner stepping in to rub down sore muscles and press ice against her ribs and midsection. Her breathing is shallow, labored, and her body is throbbing from the consistent punishment. Chandler retreats with a small smirk, knowing she’s taken control of the fight.
Score: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Running Total: Chandler 48 – Tate 47
Round 6
Chandler comes out aggressively, riding the momentum from the previous round, her confidence radiating. She starts with a flurry, body punches and hooks snapping toward Tate, trying to end the fight early. But her overconfidence leaves openings. Tate ducks a wide hook, counters with a crushing uppercut to Chandler’s jaw, and suddenly the tide shifts.
Chandler reels back, dazed, her stance faltering. Tate moves in quickly, jabbing repeatedly at Chandler’s already throbbing ribs, then drives a sharp cross straight to her nose. Blood bursts free, pouring down Chandler’s face and chest, mixing with sweat, and forcing her to backpedal in shock. The crowd gasps as Chandler’s eyes widen—her overconfidence punished brutally.
Tate senses weakness and presses the advantage, hammering the body and chest, each shot sending Chandler wobbling, barely keeping her gloves up to protect her head. Chandler tries to retaliate but her punches are sluggish, mistimed, and partially blocked by Tate’s solid defense. Tate lands a knee to the midsection in the clinch, doubling Chandler over, then steps back to land precise jabs to her bloodied face.
The referee watches closely, counting off seconds as Chandler struggles to stay upright, her legs shaky and chest heaving. She survives the round but is battered, bleeding, and clearly shaken. Tate, breathing hard but focused, has turned the round decisively in her favor, exploiting every vulnerability and punishing Chandler for her early overconfidence.
Score: Tate 10 – Chandler 9
Running Total: Chandler 57 – Tate 57
Round 7
The bell rings, and both fighters come out swinging, knowing the fight is teetering on a knife’s edge. Chandler, still reeling from her bloody nose and battered body, tries to press the attack, but her punches are sluggish and telegraphed. Tate, sensing her opponent’s fatigue, moves with precision, landing stiff jabs and body shots that echo through the arena.
Chandler tries to clinch, but Tate wedges inside, driving elbows to the ribs and short hooks to the torso. The pain forces Chandler to stagger back, her legs wobbling dangerously. Tate feints, then unloads a brutal combination to Chandler’s chest and abdomen, sending her stumbling into the ropes. Tate lands a crushing uppercut to Chandler’s jaw while her head bounces off the rope, and the referee steps in to administer a standing eight.
Chandler sways like a ragdoll, blood still streaming from her nose, chest heaving as she struggles to regain composure. The referee counts, but she barely gets her gloves up before the eighth count. Tate paces around, jabbing at the body and testing Chandler’s defense, landing two more punishing hooks to the ribs before the bell.
Chandler survives, but it is clear she is hurt and has been dominated for most of the round. Tate’s strategy of exploiting the earlier bloodied nose and Chandler’s wobbly legs has paid off, leaving her opponent gasping and teetering, though still upright.
Score: Tate 10 – Chandler 8
Running Total: Chandler 65 – Tate 67
Round 8
Chandler comes out cautiously, her battered face a map of the punishment she’s endured. Blood from her broken nose drips down her chest, mixing with sweat as she tries to keep her guard high. Her left eye is already swelling badly, threatening to close, and every movement sends sharp pain shooting through her head. Tate, sensing her opponent’s vulnerability, immediately targets the body and head, landing punishing hooks to the ribs and short, crisp shots to the temple.
Chandler staggers under the onslaught but refuses to go down. She clinches when she can, trying to catch her breath, but Tate pulls back and rakes her with a series of punishing punches, leaving Chandler swaying on her feet. The referee notices the swelling eye and the persistent bleeding and halts the action. A doctor rushes in, carefully inspecting Chandler’s eye and nose. Chandler protests, insisting she can continue, refusing to back down. After tense moments, the doctor allows the fight to continue, giving the all-clear, though it’s obvious Chandler is in serious trouble.
The round resumes, and Chandler scrambles to survive, blocking as best she can, but Tate is relentless. She lands a final body shot that makes Chandler gasp for air just as the bell rings, saving her from further immediate punishment. Chandler’s toughness keeps her upright, but the damage is severe—her nose broken, her eye threatening to shut, and her body thoroughly punished.
Score: Tate 10 – Chandler 9
Running Total: Chandler 74 – Tate 77
Round 9
Chandler emerges for the ninth round, but it’s clear the previous punishment has taken its toll. Her nose is broken, blood still trickling down her chest, and her left eye is swollen shut from the relentless beating. Tate, sensing the finish, wastes no time targeting the big red target. She drives a punishing series of hooks and uppercuts straight to Chandler’s nose, each strike forcing her to stagger back, wincing with every thud. Short body shots to the sternum follow, leaving Chandler gasping for air and barely able to keep her hands up.
Chandler tries to rally, clinching when she can, but Tate breaks free repeatedly, landing crisp combinations that make Chandler’s head snap back. The eye is now nearly closed, the swelling severe, and the referee is forced to step in. He halts the action and calls the doctor over for an immediate inspection. The doctor checks Chandler’s eye and nose carefully, noting the severity of the swelling and blood. Chandler, ever stubborn, protests that she can continue, but the referee makes the call.
With the crowd holding its breath, the ref waves off the fight. Tate raises her hands as the victor, Chandler barely able to stand, bloodied, bruised, and exhausted. It’s a brutal finish, a clear statement of dominance.
Tate McRae wins by stoppage due to a swollen eye/broken nose.
The Official Decision
Bruce Buffer steps into the center of the ring, voice booming over the roar of the crowd, his energy electric.
“Ladies and gentlemen… after nine grueling rounds in the cage, the doctors have determined that Chandler can no longer safely continue. This fight goes to your winner by TKO… Tate McRae!”
The crowd erupts as Tate raises her arms, sweat and blood dripping, chest heaving, but her grin unstoppable. Chandler sits on her stool, corner reluctantly agreeing with the stoppage, her left eye completely swollen shut, her broken nose still bleeding, the fight too dangerous to continue.
The announcer steps aside as the crowd cheers wildly, the brutal battle leaving both fighters marked and unforgettable, but a definitive conclusion is reached—the fight ended not with controversy, but with the undeniable toll of punishment.
Post Fight Interview
Joe Rogan steps in, still buzzing from the chaos, microphone raised as Tate McRae catches her breath, blood drying across her torso, her hair matted with sweat.
JOE ROGAN: “Tate… my god. What a war. First things first—how do you feel about the stoppage? The doctor waved it off after Chandler’s eye completely closed and that nose was just pouring. Did you think it was the right call?”
TATE McRae: exhales, nodding sharply “Yeah… look, I’m a fighter. I always wanna go the distance, and honestly? Chandler’s a tough **** for sure. Tough as hell. She hits HARD. Like… every shot she landed, you feel it in your bones.” She wipes her nose and winces. “But her nose was smashed early, and that eye? Real bad. I saw it getting worse every round. I’d have kept throwing, and she couldn’t see outta that side anymore. As much as I respect her toughness, I’m not out here trying to cripple anyone, even an Awesome Aries as tempting as that may be.”
JOE: “It definitely looked like you started targeting that eye and nose once they were compromised. Was that the game plan, or did you adapt mid-fight?”
TATE: “Adapted for sure. She lit me up in the second—I mean, you saw my mouthpiece go flying. But once I broke her nose and saw the swelling starting… look, this is a fight, Joe. You go for openings. And Chandler? She wasn’t backing off. She kept coming forward, so I had to slow her down.”
JOE: “There was a moment in Round 8 where the doctor came in. Chandler practically shoved him away. What was going through your head when they let the fight continue?”
TATE: smirks a little “I knew she’d say yes. The Aries’s are stubborn as hell, she must get that from Laura Marano. That girl would fight with her head hanging on by a thread. But I also knew that gave me about… what? One round before something gave out. I just stayed sharp.”
JOE: “Did you expect the eye to close completely?”
TATE: “After the third straight right hand landed? Yeah. She was blinking, squinting, wiping at it—classic signs. Once it sealed shut, I knew the ref wasn’t gonna let it go.”
JOE: “Fans are saying this might be the toughest fight of your career. Agree?”
TATE: “One hundred percent. She pushed me harder than anyone. I respect the hell outta her. And trust me—if we ever run this back, I know she’ll show up twice as dangerous.”
JOE: “Anything you want to say to Chandler right now?”
TATE: looks into the camera, serious “Heal up sweetie and we can do this again. You gave me a war. And thank you for that. I'd like to go a few more rounds and maybe one of us can finish the other.”
Joe nods, grabs her wrist, and raises Tate’s arm again to the roaring crowd.
Losers Locker Room
Erin Andrews steps quietly into the Chandler Kinney locker room. Ice packs, bloody towels, and a half-collapsed stool tell the story of the last nine rounds. Chandler sits on a bench, head tilted back slightly as a cutman works on her swollen, completely closed left eye and her heavily bandaged, crooked nose.
ERIN ANDREWS: “Chandler… you seemed upset when the fight was stopped. How are you feeling now?”
CHANDLER KINNEY: gives a tired laugh, winces as the cutman adjusts the bandage “Upset? Of course. I could still see—at least out of one eye. And look… to be honest, Tate was kicking my ass by that point. It’s fine. I’ll survive. I’ll be back.”
ERIN: “Did she break your nose?”
CHANDLER: touches the bridge gently and sucks in a pained breath “Not right away… but yeah. It’s broke. I can barely breathe out of it, but hell—war wound, right? Something to talk about later.” She smirks through the pain. “Not my first, definitely won’t be my last.”
ERIN: “How about the second round? Tate was hurt—probably worse than you realized. Did you know just how badly you had her rocked?”
CHANDLER: her eyebrows lift despite the swelling “Really? That bad? I knew I should have knock her on her ass, sh!t!”
ERIN: “She was wobbling. Mouthpiece flew. One more clean shot and she was going down.”
CHANDLER: snorts, immediately regretting it as her nose throbs “Damn… I knew I tagged her, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. If I’d known she was on the edge like that? I would’ve finished her right there. No question.”
ERIN: “Looking back now, do you feel the stoppage was fair?”
CHANDLER: “Fair? Yeah. I can admit that. My eye was gone, my nose was useless, and she was dialing in every shot. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Fighters never wanna be saved from themselves.”
ERIN: “Is there anything you want to say about Tate’s performance?”
CHANDLER: “She’s tough. Strong. Smarter in there than people give her credit for. She saw my face falling apart and went after it. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
ERIN: “And a rematch?”
CHANDLER: a slow, painful grin spreads across her face “Hell yeah. Once this eye opens again and this nose stops throbbing? Sign me up. I want another crack at her and trust me, the next time it will end with Tate on her ass.”
Erin nods, offering a sympathetic hand to Chandler’s shoulder as the fighter exhales, bruised but unbroken.
Written by the Badass Barbies
Weigh In
At the weigh-in, Chandler Kinney steps onto the scale first, 128 pounds, compact and athletic, eyes focused straight ahead. Tate McRae follows, 130 pounds, standing tall and confident, her gaze locking onto Chandler’s. The two women hold each other in a tense stare down, unflinching, neither backing away, their rivalry radiating in the silent intensity of the room. Security and officials hover nearby, ready but not needing to intervene, as the crowd murmurs in anticipation. The atmosphere is electric, a quiet tension before the storm.
Chandler keeps her fists relaxed at her sides, jaw tight, breathing controlled. Tate shifts slightly, bouncing lightly on her heels, a smirk threatening but not fully forming. They exchange no words, just measured, calculating looks—each assessing the other, noting every twitch, every muscle, every sign of intent. The moment stretches, long and charged, until the referee signals the weigh-in is complete. The two finally step back, still locked in their mental battle, and the anticipation for their showdown in the ring builds palpably.
Walk Out
The arena lights dim and the music hits, signaling the walkouts. Chandler Kinney steps onto the stage first, wearing a deep red sports bra and matching shorts that highlight her toned frame. Her expression is laser-focused, and she pumps her fists once for the crowd, which erupts in cheers. Every step toward the ring is precise, measured, her eyes never leaving Tate, who stands waiting at the ropes.
Tate McRae follows, clad in a sleek black and gold outfit, her movements smooth, confident, almost gliding as she enters. She flashes a small, controlled smile, but her eyes are sharp, locked on Chandler. The crowd roars at her presence, sensing the tension between the two. She steps into the ring with a fluid grace, bouncing lightly on her toes, hands raised in a ready stance.
As the bell for introductions nears, both fighters stand at opposite ends, the intensity between them palpable. They exchange no words, only hard, calculating stares, the kind that promises the upcoming fight will be a battle of skill, endurance, and raw willpower.
The referee raises each fighter’s hand, signaling that all is set, and the bell for round one is moments away.
Odds
Based on their attributes and fighting styles, the betting odds favor Chandler Kinney slightly for her combination of power, cardio, and speed, but Tate McRae’s precision, jab, and defensive skills make her a strong challenger.
Official odds:
Chandler Kinney -130
Tate McRae +110
Chandler is the slight favorite due to her balanced offense and resilience, but Tate’s reach, head movement, and counter-punching ability make her dangerous, so this fight could easily go either way.
Round 1
The bell rings and both fighters explode out of their corners, circling each other warily before unleashing their first volleys. Chandler feints low, then snaps a sharp jab toward Tate’s chin, which she barely dodges, countering immediately with a hook to Chandler’s ribs. The crowd roars as they trade rapid combinations, Chandler landing a thudding cross to Tate’s midsection while Tate fires back with a flurry of hooks and quick jabs to Chandler’s shoulders and head.
They pivot and weave, each trying to find an opening. Chandler lands a vicious uppercut that snaps Tate’s head back, followed by a crushing body shot that makes the smaller fighter wince. Tate counters with a low hook to Chandler’s ribs, then jumps in with a straight cross, catching Chandler under the eye. Blood immediately begins to bead from a nose strike as Tate’s power punches find their mark, and the crowd can barely contain their excitement.
Both women are relentless, exchanging strikes like seasoned warriors. Chandler ducks a wild hook and comes back with a spinning hook to Tate’s chest, leaving her staggered. Tate responds with a sharp jab-right-left combo to Chandler’s face, snapping her head back and drawing a gasp from the audience. Near the end of the round, a slight slip from Chandler almost looks like a knockdown, but she catches herself just in time, her balance saved by lightning-fast reflexes.
The bell finally rings, but both are breathing heavily, sweat mingling with the trickle of blood from Tate’s nose. Each is battered, bruised, but ready to continue. The crowd erupts in appreciation of the relentless pace and punishment handed out.
Score: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Running Total: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Round 2
The fighters come out cautiously, knowing Round 1 took a toll, but it doesn’t take long before both are trading ferocious combinations again. Tate, still nursing her bloody nose, presses Chandler with quick jabs, snapping her head back repeatedly, but Chandler anticipates a straight cross and slips low, catching Tate’s ribs with a punishing hook that makes her double over. Tate shakes it off and counters with a spinning back fist to Chandler’s shoulder, followed by a vicious uppercut that leaves Chandler staggering.
They clinch briefly, grinding against each other, then break apart with fists flying. Chandler lands a nasty body blow to Tate’s midsection that seems to knock the wind out of her, but Tate responds with a hard cross to the jaw that causes Chandler to stumble toward the ropes. The crowd roars at the sheer intensity as both fighters are now visibly fatigued but refusing to back down. Sweat runs down their faces as they unleash flurries—Tate targeting the ribs and chest, Chandler retaliating with hooks and uppercuts aimed at Tate’s head and body.
Chandler feints to the left then drills Tate with a hook to the ribs and Tate is hurt. Her legs are wobbly and she stumbles back the ropes catching her before she goes down! That last shot shook Tate and she clinches tight holding on until the ref breaks them apart.
A controversial moment occurs when Chandler slips and goes down, but she rolls away and jumps back to her feet. Tate sees the opening and lunges with a vicious hook to the abdomen, then lands a jab to Chandler’s temple, but Chandler weaves and responds with a thudding cross to Tate’s midsection and Tate is wincing in agony. The bell rings, ending the round just as they throw simultaneous hooks at each other as the ref sends them to their corners.
Score: Chandler 9 – Tate 10
Running Total: Chandler 19 – Tate 19
Round 3
Both fighters come out swinging, knowing the fight is dead even. Tate’s left eye is beginning to swell from a sharp cross Chandler landed late in Round 2, and a fresh trickle of blood starts from a grazed nose. Chandler presses the attack immediately, jabbing to Tate’s ribs and snapping a hard hook to the cheek that makes her wince. Tate counters with relentless body shots, pounding Chandler’s abdomen and chest, and the crowd roars at every punishing strike.
They trade blows in a brutal back-and-forth, neither giving an inch. Chandler lands a straight right that snaps Tate’s head back, then smashes a short hook under her ribs. Tate doubles over but recovers quickly, driving her knee slightly forward in a clinch to create space and landing a vicious uppercut that opens a small cut under Chandler’s left eye. Blood drips, mixing with sweat, and Chandler reels but doesn’t back down.
Midway through the round, a particularly nasty exchange leaves both women gasping, leaning on each other for a brief moment before breaking apart. Another hook from Chandler grazes Tate’s nose, drawing more blood, while Tate responds with a thudding cross to Chandler’s body. Both are now sucking air, their torsos heaving, muscles trembling, bruises forming across their ribs and midsections. The bell finally sounds, giving them a moment to regroup but leaving the crowd on their feet, applauding the raw intensity.
Score: Chandler 9 – Tate 10
Running Total: Chandler 28 – Tate 29
Round 4
Both fighters come out still reeling from the previous round, sweat dripping and muscles tight, eyes locked with unrelenting focus. Chandler moves first, using her reach to snap off jabs, then sneaks in a vicious cross to Tate’s ribs that doubles her over. Tate counters with a hard hook to Chandler’s midsection, but Chandler absorbs it and swings back with a punishing uppercut that clips Tate under the chin.
Tate stumbles, trying to recover, but Chandler doesn’t let up—she drills a series of body shots, chest and ribs, and Tate’s legs start to wobble. Another crushing hook to the abdomen sends Tate stumbling backward into the ropes, her mouthguard flying slightly, and suddenly she goes down hard, her knees and side hitting the canvas with a loud thud. The crowd gasps, and the referee drops immediately to start the count.
Tate’s arms flail, trying to push herself up, but the pain is evident—her ribs and midsection throb from the brutal bodywork. She beats the count at eight, but she’s clearly shaken, every breath sharp and labored. Chandler retreats slightly, circling, jabbing to keep Tate off balance, while Tate sways, trying to regain footing, her left eye already beginning to swell from earlier damage.
The bell finally sounds, giving Tate a brief reprieve, and her corner rushes in to stabilize her, pressing ice to her side and back, while Chandler smirks and shakes off the hits she took, ready for the next round.
Score: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Running Total: Chandler 38 – Tate 38
Round 5
Tate limps to the center of the ring, her legs shaky and body tight, knowing she’s already behind on points and her stamina is teetering. Chandler wastes no time, circling with sharp jabs and lunging hooks aimed squarely at Tate’s ribs and midsection. Each body shot lands like a hammer, folding Tate forward, her arms instinctively coming up to protect her aching torso. Sweat drips from both fighters as the pace intensifies, Chandler using her reach and power to dominate the center of the ring.
Tate tries to fight back with a couple of quick jabs and an overhand hook, but her strikes lack the snap they had in earlier rounds. Every time she swings, Chandler counters, forcing her back again. Tate clinches desperately, wrapping her arms around Chandler to slow the relentless body assault and steal a second or two to breathe. The referee steps in briefly, separating them, but Chandler immediately snaps back with a quick combination to the body and ribs, keeping Tate off balance.
By the final thirty seconds, Tate is visibly wobbly, swaying on her feet as each hit sends shocks through her torso. She barely survives the round, her corner stepping in to rub down sore muscles and press ice against her ribs and midsection. Her breathing is shallow, labored, and her body is throbbing from the consistent punishment. Chandler retreats with a small smirk, knowing she’s taken control of the fight.
Score: Chandler 10 – Tate 9
Running Total: Chandler 48 – Tate 47
Round 6
Chandler comes out aggressively, riding the momentum from the previous round, her confidence radiating. She starts with a flurry, body punches and hooks snapping toward Tate, trying to end the fight early. But her overconfidence leaves openings. Tate ducks a wide hook, counters with a crushing uppercut to Chandler’s jaw, and suddenly the tide shifts.
Chandler reels back, dazed, her stance faltering. Tate moves in quickly, jabbing repeatedly at Chandler’s already throbbing ribs, then drives a sharp cross straight to her nose. Blood bursts free, pouring down Chandler’s face and chest, mixing with sweat, and forcing her to backpedal in shock. The crowd gasps as Chandler’s eyes widen—her overconfidence punished brutally.
Tate senses weakness and presses the advantage, hammering the body and chest, each shot sending Chandler wobbling, barely keeping her gloves up to protect her head. Chandler tries to retaliate but her punches are sluggish, mistimed, and partially blocked by Tate’s solid defense. Tate lands a knee to the midsection in the clinch, doubling Chandler over, then steps back to land precise jabs to her bloodied face.
The referee watches closely, counting off seconds as Chandler struggles to stay upright, her legs shaky and chest heaving. She survives the round but is battered, bleeding, and clearly shaken. Tate, breathing hard but focused, has turned the round decisively in her favor, exploiting every vulnerability and punishing Chandler for her early overconfidence.
Score: Tate 10 – Chandler 9
Running Total: Chandler 57 – Tate 57
Round 7
The bell rings, and both fighters come out swinging, knowing the fight is teetering on a knife’s edge. Chandler, still reeling from her bloody nose and battered body, tries to press the attack, but her punches are sluggish and telegraphed. Tate, sensing her opponent’s fatigue, moves with precision, landing stiff jabs and body shots that echo through the arena.
Chandler tries to clinch, but Tate wedges inside, driving elbows to the ribs and short hooks to the torso. The pain forces Chandler to stagger back, her legs wobbling dangerously. Tate feints, then unloads a brutal combination to Chandler’s chest and abdomen, sending her stumbling into the ropes. Tate lands a crushing uppercut to Chandler’s jaw while her head bounces off the rope, and the referee steps in to administer a standing eight.
Chandler sways like a ragdoll, blood still streaming from her nose, chest heaving as she struggles to regain composure. The referee counts, but she barely gets her gloves up before the eighth count. Tate paces around, jabbing at the body and testing Chandler’s defense, landing two more punishing hooks to the ribs before the bell.
Chandler survives, but it is clear she is hurt and has been dominated for most of the round. Tate’s strategy of exploiting the earlier bloodied nose and Chandler’s wobbly legs has paid off, leaving her opponent gasping and teetering, though still upright.
Score: Tate 10 – Chandler 8
Running Total: Chandler 65 – Tate 67
Round 8
Chandler comes out cautiously, her battered face a map of the punishment she’s endured. Blood from her broken nose drips down her chest, mixing with sweat as she tries to keep her guard high. Her left eye is already swelling badly, threatening to close, and every movement sends sharp pain shooting through her head. Tate, sensing her opponent’s vulnerability, immediately targets the body and head, landing punishing hooks to the ribs and short, crisp shots to the temple.
Chandler staggers under the onslaught but refuses to go down. She clinches when she can, trying to catch her breath, but Tate pulls back and rakes her with a series of punishing punches, leaving Chandler swaying on her feet. The referee notices the swelling eye and the persistent bleeding and halts the action. A doctor rushes in, carefully inspecting Chandler’s eye and nose. Chandler protests, insisting she can continue, refusing to back down. After tense moments, the doctor allows the fight to continue, giving the all-clear, though it’s obvious Chandler is in serious trouble.
The round resumes, and Chandler scrambles to survive, blocking as best she can, but Tate is relentless. She lands a final body shot that makes Chandler gasp for air just as the bell rings, saving her from further immediate punishment. Chandler’s toughness keeps her upright, but the damage is severe—her nose broken, her eye threatening to shut, and her body thoroughly punished.
Score: Tate 10 – Chandler 9
Running Total: Chandler 74 – Tate 77
Round 9
Chandler emerges for the ninth round, but it’s clear the previous punishment has taken its toll. Her nose is broken, blood still trickling down her chest, and her left eye is swollen shut from the relentless beating. Tate, sensing the finish, wastes no time targeting the big red target. She drives a punishing series of hooks and uppercuts straight to Chandler’s nose, each strike forcing her to stagger back, wincing with every thud. Short body shots to the sternum follow, leaving Chandler gasping for air and barely able to keep her hands up.
Chandler tries to rally, clinching when she can, but Tate breaks free repeatedly, landing crisp combinations that make Chandler’s head snap back. The eye is now nearly closed, the swelling severe, and the referee is forced to step in. He halts the action and calls the doctor over for an immediate inspection. The doctor checks Chandler’s eye and nose carefully, noting the severity of the swelling and blood. Chandler, ever stubborn, protests that she can continue, but the referee makes the call.
With the crowd holding its breath, the ref waves off the fight. Tate raises her hands as the victor, Chandler barely able to stand, bloodied, bruised, and exhausted. It’s a brutal finish, a clear statement of dominance.
Tate McRae wins by stoppage due to a swollen eye/broken nose.
The Official Decision
Bruce Buffer steps into the center of the ring, voice booming over the roar of the crowd, his energy electric.
“Ladies and gentlemen… after nine grueling rounds in the cage, the doctors have determined that Chandler can no longer safely continue. This fight goes to your winner by TKO… Tate McRae!”
The crowd erupts as Tate raises her arms, sweat and blood dripping, chest heaving, but her grin unstoppable. Chandler sits on her stool, corner reluctantly agreeing with the stoppage, her left eye completely swollen shut, her broken nose still bleeding, the fight too dangerous to continue.
The announcer steps aside as the crowd cheers wildly, the brutal battle leaving both fighters marked and unforgettable, but a definitive conclusion is reached—the fight ended not with controversy, but with the undeniable toll of punishment.
Post Fight Interview
Joe Rogan steps in, still buzzing from the chaos, microphone raised as Tate McRae catches her breath, blood drying across her torso, her hair matted with sweat.
JOE ROGAN: “Tate… my god. What a war. First things first—how do you feel about the stoppage? The doctor waved it off after Chandler’s eye completely closed and that nose was just pouring. Did you think it was the right call?”
TATE McRae: exhales, nodding sharply “Yeah… look, I’m a fighter. I always wanna go the distance, and honestly? Chandler’s a tough **** for sure. Tough as hell. She hits HARD. Like… every shot she landed, you feel it in your bones.” She wipes her nose and winces. “But her nose was smashed early, and that eye? Real bad. I saw it getting worse every round. I’d have kept throwing, and she couldn’t see outta that side anymore. As much as I respect her toughness, I’m not out here trying to cripple anyone, even an Awesome Aries as tempting as that may be.”
JOE: “It definitely looked like you started targeting that eye and nose once they were compromised. Was that the game plan, or did you adapt mid-fight?”
TATE: “Adapted for sure. She lit me up in the second—I mean, you saw my mouthpiece go flying. But once I broke her nose and saw the swelling starting… look, this is a fight, Joe. You go for openings. And Chandler? She wasn’t backing off. She kept coming forward, so I had to slow her down.”
JOE: “There was a moment in Round 8 where the doctor came in. Chandler practically shoved him away. What was going through your head when they let the fight continue?”
TATE: smirks a little “I knew she’d say yes. The Aries’s are stubborn as hell, she must get that from Laura Marano. That girl would fight with her head hanging on by a thread. But I also knew that gave me about… what? One round before something gave out. I just stayed sharp.”
JOE: “Did you expect the eye to close completely?”
TATE: “After the third straight right hand landed? Yeah. She was blinking, squinting, wiping at it—classic signs. Once it sealed shut, I knew the ref wasn’t gonna let it go.”
JOE: “Fans are saying this might be the toughest fight of your career. Agree?”
TATE: “One hundred percent. She pushed me harder than anyone. I respect the hell outta her. And trust me—if we ever run this back, I know she’ll show up twice as dangerous.”
JOE: “Anything you want to say to Chandler right now?”
TATE: looks into the camera, serious “Heal up sweetie and we can do this again. You gave me a war. And thank you for that. I'd like to go a few more rounds and maybe one of us can finish the other.”
Joe nods, grabs her wrist, and raises Tate’s arm again to the roaring crowd.
Losers Locker Room
Erin Andrews steps quietly into the Chandler Kinney locker room. Ice packs, bloody towels, and a half-collapsed stool tell the story of the last nine rounds. Chandler sits on a bench, head tilted back slightly as a cutman works on her swollen, completely closed left eye and her heavily bandaged, crooked nose.
ERIN ANDREWS: “Chandler… you seemed upset when the fight was stopped. How are you feeling now?”
CHANDLER KINNEY: gives a tired laugh, winces as the cutman adjusts the bandage “Upset? Of course. I could still see—at least out of one eye. And look… to be honest, Tate was kicking my ass by that point. It’s fine. I’ll survive. I’ll be back.”
ERIN: “Did she break your nose?”
CHANDLER: touches the bridge gently and sucks in a pained breath “Not right away… but yeah. It’s broke. I can barely breathe out of it, but hell—war wound, right? Something to talk about later.” She smirks through the pain. “Not my first, definitely won’t be my last.”
ERIN: “How about the second round? Tate was hurt—probably worse than you realized. Did you know just how badly you had her rocked?”
CHANDLER: her eyebrows lift despite the swelling “Really? That bad? I knew I should have knock her on her ass, sh!t!”
ERIN: “She was wobbling. Mouthpiece flew. One more clean shot and she was going down.”
CHANDLER: snorts, immediately regretting it as her nose throbs “Damn… I knew I tagged her, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. If I’d known she was on the edge like that? I would’ve finished her right there. No question.”
ERIN: “Looking back now, do you feel the stoppage was fair?”
CHANDLER: “Fair? Yeah. I can admit that. My eye was gone, my nose was useless, and she was dialing in every shot. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Fighters never wanna be saved from themselves.”
ERIN: “Is there anything you want to say about Tate’s performance?”
CHANDLER: “She’s tough. Strong. Smarter in there than people give her credit for. She saw my face falling apart and went after it. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
ERIN: “And a rematch?”
CHANDLER: a slow, painful grin spreads across her face “Hell yeah. Once this eye opens again and this nose stops throbbing? Sign me up. I want another crack at her and trust me, the next time it will end with Tate on her ass.”
Erin nods, offering a sympathetic hand to Chandler’s shoulder as the fighter exhales, bruised but unbroken.
Written by the Badass Barbies