Chantelle Cameron Claims Three Titles in Epic Fight Against Mikaela Mayer

Chantelle Cameron tore through the noise, the bad blood and the pre-fight boasts in Birmingham, and walked out with three world titles and a fresh notch on an already historic career.

On a savage night at MPW-06, the Briton outworked and outlanded Mikaela Mayer over 10 furious rounds to claim the WBA, WBC and WBO super-welterweight belts by unanimous decision, the judges scoring it 97-93, 97-93, 96-94.

It was billed as a fight-of-the-year contender. It lived up to it.

Cameron’s statement in a storm

Cameron entered the ring already holding a unique distinction: the only woman to have beaten Katie Taylor in the Irish icon’s professional career. This, though, was about something else. A new division. A new rival. A new stage to prove that win was no one-off.

From the opening bell, she fought like a woman intent on underlining her place among the sport’s elite.

Mayer, the decorated American and pound-for-pound star, came out on the front foot, trying to dictate. Cameron answered with cold precision. She timed a left hook beautifully in the first as Mayer pressed forward, a warning that the counter-puncher in front of her had no intention of being bullied.

The round ended with shoulders clashing and tempers spiking, the animosity from Friday’s fiery weigh-in spilling straight into the contest. They squared up on their way back to their corners, the referee stepping in as the crowd roared. The tone for the night was set: this was going to be nasty, and it was going to be relentless.

Fight breaks open

Cameron looked the heavier-handed fighter early, stepping into a lunging right hand in the second. Mayer refused to back off, walking her down and cracking a right hook to the face as she trapped the home fighter on the ropes. It was high-risk, high-tempo stuff from both.

Mayer tried to find her rhythm in the third, looking to settle behind her jab and get her distance. Each time she reached, Cameron punished her. A sharp counter right landed clean, only for Mayer to fire back with a crisp two-punch combination. The exchanges were tight, the margins slim, but Cameron’s back-foot game plan began to take shape. She read the attacks, picked her moments, and made Mayer pay for every misjudged step.

As the rounds ticked by, the space between them shrank. The long-range chess match turned into a phone-booth brawl. On the inside, Cameron clipped Mayer with a short right hook; Mayer dug hard to the body, investing in the kind of shots that only tell in the championship rounds. Neither gave an inch. Neither wanted to blink first.

The fifth brought one of Mayer’s best moments. She thudded a right hand into Cameron’s face, then bit down on her gumshield and stood her ground as the pair swapped brutal body shots in the pocket. The pace was ferocious, the sound of leather on ribs echoing around the arena.

Momentum swings, then hardens

Just when it looked like Mayer might be clawing control, Cameron surged again.

She turned aggressor in the seventh, stepping forward behind a stiff jab and sending a right hand arcing over the top. The change in posture was clear: Cameron was no longer just reacting, she was dictating. Mayer circled, tried to reset, but the Briton stalked her, cutting off the ring and forcing exchanges on her own terms.

By the end of that round, Cameron was hunting her down, shoulders rolling, eyes locked in. Mayer, usually so composed and technically assured, struggled to fully impose her preferred rhythm. The fight had turned into a battle of attrition, and Cameron seemed to relish it.

The damage told on both faces. By the ninth, swelling was visible, Mayer wearing a cut by the eye, blood appearing to trickle from Cameron as well. Every clinch came with a shot on the break, every lull shattered by another burst of punches. This was elite-level boxing stripped of gloss, two of the best in the world trading in a trench war.

Bell, embrace, and more venom

When the final bell rang, they did something unexpected. They embraced. A brief, raw acknowledgement of the shared ordeal, of the quality and brutality of what they had just put each other through.

Then the respect gave way to another volley of words.

Mayer, convinced she had done enough, let Cameron know it in no uncertain terms.

"I did beat you Chantelle. You are lucky in your little back yard," she said, insisting she had outboxed the new champion and demanding three-minute rounds for a rematch, away from the UK and on her home soil in the United States. She promised she would "kick your ass even harder" if they met again.

Cameron, for her part, had already set the tone in the ring and on the mic.

"I just wanted to play with [Mayer]," she said, having spent the build-up listening to predictions that she would be stopped or dominated. "Talk is so cheap, and I showed that tonight. Don't talk too much game – you've got to back it."

She wants to run it back. She wants longer rounds. She wants Mayer again.

Whether the rematch lands in the UK, the US or anywhere in between, one thing is clear after Birmingham: Chantelle Cameron is not just collecting belts, she is carving out a legacy, one brutal, unforgiving fight at a time.